Single-hood

Festive periods are full of friendly faces, family and people who have watched you grow from a small bean on a screen to an individual. It’s lovely to relax, replenish and socialise with positive people in your inner circle and returning to the craziness of my choice of work has made me appreciate and love them with utter devotion. However, it is always hard tackling the numerous questions at social gatherings which are usually trying to dissect life-choices and potential romances.

Single-hood has been my donation to family occasions for the last 3 years, and its baggage that I’m accustomed to carrying around and unpacking in front of an audience (it’s customary to have your appearance subjected to the disbelief of you being single to your family and friends, right?).
Family are 100% biased, but biased doesn’t help you in the brutal field of dating, ‘seeing’ or ‘casualing’.

Over the years the “you’re so pretty, I don’t get how you’re single” or the “what are you doing wrong? It’s not like you’re ugly” from friends and relatives doesn’t initiate the ego boost intended; all it does is make me question every little thing that shapes me as the individual I am.

I mean if I am ‘pretty’ and non-ugly (Side Note: I don’t see myself any prettier than a bin, so I am not bragging here) my personality, interests, and enjoyments out of life must absolutely suck, right?
This has been a nagging, little depreciation, on a loop, going round and round in my brain for the last few years. I had tried new things, developed interests, and created an ‘identity’ for myself which I felt positive about and proud of and of course we all want to find a person to appreciate these things about ourselves and vice versa.

I was a little naïve and forgot that sometimes people who aren’t your family aren’t obliged to be biased or kind.

The day someone who I had thought appreciated all of the things that I thought were positive about myself, branded them as “boring” and described me as a “boring person” initiated a state of grief I had never experienced before. I felt ashamed and completely uncool and a little unworthy. It confirmed the depreciation in my mind and I started to not associate myself with the things I once found interesting.

I listened to music I didn’t like but was socially seen as “cool”, forced myself to wear clothes that were “fashionable” and all over the shops and scour Instagram for comparisons that were the opposites of me but were popular; trying but failing to evolve into something that wasn’t me. (None of these are bad things to enjoy but I was being untrue to myself which makes them bad).

It didn’t last long. 4 days to be exact.

Just because one person, who obviously wasn’t intended to last anything longer than a life lesson, said a wrong thing at a wrong time, doesn’t mean you should find truth in their anguish. One thing it has taught me was to not hold faith in someone to validate my worth, but to do a bit of soul-searching instead *Cliché Alert*. Love yourself. Eat good food, with good people, walk, test yourself, run, jump, shout at the top of your lungs on top of a hill into the wind and most importantly LIVE. You don’t need to have someone to validate your worth. As long as you are happy with your own progress, you don’t need anyone else. And unless you appreciate yourself, how can you expect someone else to appreciate you?

There is no shame in being single. It’s a perfect opportunity to explore to be adventurous, spontaneous, but most importantly yourself.

Have fun out there!

With love,

Pipedream xx

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Emotional Haircuts

What. A. Year.

2017; to be an absolute cliché, has been a rollercoaster of trials and tribulations, ups and downs and complete downhill spirals. On the exterior its been a year of growth and new beginnings which are supposedly good for the soul, but with every new beginning there is always an ending, and these endings have taken a toll on me this year… I have the emotional haircuts to prove it.

Emotional haircuts for me, are processes of making changes to your appearance, signalling an end to negative patterns/lifestyle choices and initiating positive, new, emotional directions.

Despite the name, emotional haircuts aren’t limited to hairstyles; they can be a new piercing, tattoo, lipstick colour or even something someone has said that you can’t “pull off” (due to their personal preference). *Bore off* Your body, your decision.

I have always refused to change myself because of a boy, friend, family member or just basically someone who has insinuated or flat-out told me that I should change something about myself. However, I feel that it is completely okay to initiate a change because OF someone/something that has impacted you negatively e.g. a boy, friend, job etc.

My hair has always been a dispensable component of my appearance. I haven’t really regarded my brunette locks with any compassion over these last 12 months, going from long to short, to subjecting it to colour, ombre bleaching, but I have now completed my most drastic change yet. Fully Blonde. *Sudden Gasps*

It wasn’t an easy change, and I was told by many people not to do it because “it wouldn’t suit me” or because it is not “natural”. I was coming out of my comfort zone (which hadn’t served me very well to be completely honest) into the unknown; driving the hair dresser mad with my indecisiveness (I had a gut feeling that she wanted to throw hair dryer at me). But a switch flicked e.g. my defiance, and I had a F*** it moment, which is how I wish to tackle 2018.

I thought I would follow in the steps of all the celebrities (like the little sheep I am) picking their “favourite moments of 2017” but shaking it up and being a little spicy *sarcasm* by showing my “emotional haircuts of 2017” and I have had my fair share…

*Drumroll*

*Insert Vain Selfies*

March 2017

May 2017

September 2017

October 2017

December 2017

Emotional haircuts make me feel confident, refreshed and ready to tackle any Bulls*** that is guaranteed to come my way.

I want to Thank you, whoever and wherever you are for reading my blog! Whether this be your first or the many, I appreciate every read and the constant support!

Happy New Year Treasures! It’s going to be a good one!

Have fun out there!

With love,

Pipedream xx

Dear the charming man in the aisles of a supermarket…

As I drove away I kicked myself. I wish I had said a mere “hello” to an attractive stranger that kept meeting me in the centre of each aisle in Sainsbury’s.

I could be completely reading into nothing, but the smiles grew wider (and a cheeky little blush) as the coincidences occurred the pessimist in me assumed he was smirking at my scraggly, sauna induced hair and make-up bare face, making me blush and retract all eye contact.

I’m heavily dismissive of compliments and opportunities like the above as I am so insecure and unconfident about myself that I assume I’ve got something (e.g. Left over food, smudged make up etc) on my face, if someone is looking at me persistently *as I got in my car I immediately checked for self-sabotage*.

I was hoping the gestures would lead to a conversation but 1) my “fleeitis” (a very not so serious condition where I leave a scenario, quickly when things get “serious”) flared up and 2) why should a man always make the first move?

This is something I have been mulling over for some time now.

In this modern society, women are slowly gaining equality which I completely back. But I feel like some views need to be altered to match the evolving changes.

Why should a man make the first move? I feel like if I the woman I am; find someone attractive, shouldn’t I tell them? However growing up, my mum always said that a man should pursue “you” and to do vice versa makes you look “desperate” and no one likes desperate *sigh*.

It’s quite a traditional view (to put it politely) for a male to solely “court” a female (I’m completely disregarding the swiping notion of tinder) but while we insist on gaining further equality *we have a long way to go, unfortunately*, doesn’t this mean we have to put our money where our mouth is and go up to that tall (small is cool too, I’m just being cliche here), attractive and potentially intelligent male and introduce ourselves in all our womanly glory? Because males have done so throughout history. Let’s do the same.

It also opens up the field of dating to the males that feel insecure and unconfident in themselves to initiate anything (which are completely relatable emotions; and are frequent opportunity killers). These types can be the best, but can be overlooked.

Taking hold of your life and going after what you want allows you to 1) feel empowered *fist pump* and 2) prevents you limiting yourselves to the confident types that “dig” themselves and will probably break your heart *stereotype but relatable*.

All I am saying is, if you experience a situation similar to mine, don’t be the egg on the shelf; say hi. You never know what could happen. It is the season of goodwill and giving… let’s give out good vibes!

Have fun out there!

Merry Christmas!

Love,

Pipedream xx

Deer in headlights…

I’m just over here waiting for my Glo-Up.

This elusive term has been plaguing social media for a while now and for anyone that doesn’t know what it means it’s basically when the ugly duckling, transforms into a swan and tramples all over the “haters” as they feel fab (a touch petty, but who doesn’t like revenge?)

Just to clarify, I don’t want the aesthetic glo-up (I mean it would be nice but I’m okay with hiding in the background at the mo). I want the kind where I actually become a co-ordinated human being and not someone that manages to make a fool of myself at every opportunity.

Yesterday I fell off a treadmill. It’s a pretty simple piece of equipment, even with an emergency stop button. But alas, running for my life, feeling pretty good about how much pain I’m intentionally putting myself through and then BAMN.

A few years back I hurt my knees and ankles in a horse-riding incident (I landed on my feet, ew) and they have been getting worse as time has gone by. But as one of my legs gave way putting me off my stride; resulting in me stumbling, falling and nearly strangling myself on my headphones (all completely graceful *not*) pushing the emergency stop button never occurred to me. Am I feeling alright? I just sometimes wonder, why me? And why do I get myself into these situations?

I’m a full-time pleb, yearning to get my s*** together, but when you have the characteristics of a deer in headlights, it’s no wonder. Am I right? *rolls eyes*

Have fun out there!

Love,

Pipedream xx

A Guide to Backburners

I dodged a bullet.

A few of you have been asking me to write this for a while and I think now is the absolute perfect time.

Backburners.

Dating is a very very tough sport, full of failure and success. It’s competitive and more often than not (for me anyway) brutal.

I have found that there are so many terms regarding dating; for all the factions in which you encounter within it e.g. “ghosting”, “catch and release”, “layby” and I wanted to now add in one of my own.

I mean it’s highly controversial and morally wrong, but as a species, we are forever looking to see if the grass is greener and social media and the abundance of dating apps allow this too happen more frequently than not.

Whenever friends are “seeing” someone I always ask if they have any “backburners”. Now you may be asking, Pipedream, what on earth are backburners? Well dear reader I will tell you.

I cannot deny that in the past I have had back-burners. These are the people that you are talking too but remain simmering away at the back of the hob, whilst the main candidate is on full heat at the front. *Beyoncé hair flick*

The backburners however, can be switched on to a higher heat (bit of cheeky flirting) as the front runners continue or just let you down. *meh*

It can appear fickle but I highly doubt anyone reading this can deny EVER doing it (if you can I’m obviously just a bad person) and I have just created a term for such madness.

I would also like to add that if anyone has someone on the back-burner now, they most indefinitely are the people you should be dating. Because if the person on full heat was really that much of a gem, the others wouldn’t matter.

Have fun out there!

Love,

Pipedream xx

Feeling myself…

I’m just over here, feeling myself, don’t mind me.

I feel gooooooooood today. Recently my blog has been solely an outlet for me to vent about areas in my life that need improving and changing, and as time has rolled on I have been such a negative Nancy within my posts. However, the majority of negativity that I harbour is towards how I look, physically and aesthetically; as I am usually very insecure, needing people’s affirmation to validate whether I am a good enough human.

Today. is. where. this. changes.

I have woken up, the sun is shining and I have a spring in my step. I overlooked my flaws; my chunky arms, weird shaped hips and my obvious over-consumption of bread (stomach rolls), and looked in the mirror and told myself “I am fab, as I am”.

It is a huge waste of time and energy focussing solely on negative aspects of my life and myself.

I am breathing ✔️

I live comfortably ✔️

I am surrounded by the best people ✔️

I have good hair – a strong muddy brown ✔️

My boobs look good ✔️

I feel fab ✔️

I’m not sure why it has taken 20 years to figure out, but it’s not self-righteous or vain or egotistical (which society brands anyone that is happy within themselves) to feel good and own that.

Im probably not the only one, but when I ordered clothes online, as soon as they arrived and I put them on, I expected the garment to transform my body shape into the image of the model that made me buy it in the first place. I usually sent the items back because I didn’t feel good/sexy enough to wear it, or as if I wasn’t allowed to wear it, because I branded myself mediocre or not womanly enough. Comparing is bad.

I’m completely done with comparing myself to others, when it is absolutely impossible to achieve the same or look the same; instead I want to commend them for being different, beautiful, achieving amazing things and doing their best but also allow myself to think the same things too.

Have fun out there,

Love,

Pipedreamxx

Being an A**hole…

I have a massive chip on my shoulder *Not literally, I am perfectly healthy*

Semantically that phrase could have a multiple of meanings, the first assumed usually being “a person who thinks highly of themselves without the credentials”. However, my chip provokes a defiance and hostility, when an insecurity is provoked. *sigh* Because I have many.

I love to keep up with Celebrity Gossip and News, being an avid reader of Cosmopolitan to the Daily Mail, and yesterday an article was written about a celebrity interview that struck some home truths.

Jennifer Lawrence has been an advocate of honesty and is usually one for removing the rose-tinted glasses of Hollywood, which is something I completely adore about her. She was in the midst of being interviewed for the show ‘Actors on Actors’ by Adam Sandler, when she expressed that when she socially interacts in public she becomes “incredibly rude” because it’s the “only way of defending” herself and this is something I can completely relate too.

As a species we are expected to be sociable and amenable, however that can expose us to many opportunities of hurt. Dating, education, careers and other scenarios which expose us all to knock-backs, rejections and successes which shape our characters as individuals.

I am completely aware that my knock-backs and rejections have strengthened my mentality in dealing with them, as I will always get back up and continue; however, I wrongly assume that my success is a coping mechanism which is a hostility when someone pokes the monster that is made up of my insecurities.

I work in a predominantly male environment where “banter” overrules the art of conversation but as the finger points to me, after months of trying; I have used up all of my witty remarks and sly digs, resorting to my old friend hostility and defiance. Some may not say hard enough, but during these last few months I have tried to get out of my comfort zone as much as possible, by taking part in activities that previously made me want to melt into the ground.

I tried to resolve my defiance and hostility by putting in zero effort when socialising. Which I thought would be a better idea, than putting in effort and failing; as that would definitely light up my insecurities, when the jokes punchline was me.

It’s something I want to shake off, but when I feel vulnerable I find myself saying hateful things that I don’t mean, in the hope that the other person will retract and leave me to deal with myself. This is of course all going on inside my head and on the exterior, I am a “calm, calculated” person that hates to make a fool of myself (mutually felt by many of us) even though it comes naturally. I’m just a mess.

My current inability to quash my insecurities, prevents me from doing so many things; from sport, to being on stage (a dream) *sigh*.

However, I am still rather young, with lots of time for growth; something I intend to do. Grow.

Have fun out there!

With love,

Pipedream xx

Diaries of a Potato

As I mooched around Sainsbury’s on a mission for ingredients for the evening cooking sessions at school; I realised that I’m slowly creeping into my old comfort eating habits and general laziness.

Last week was a big week for me, because I had joined the gym with lots of good intentions and abs in mind. The problem is however, that I have a classic potato mindset, I’m insecure about people seeing me workout and I’ve just started watching stranger things… resulting in me not going once these past couple of days. Instead I’ve stuffed my face and cried in the mirror.

Fast forward to today and I feel a little disgusted by my joy and enthusiasm for eating (all the bad things) and rewarding myself for merely getting out of bed this morning; with my favourite strawberry liquorice and a pot of liquid chocolate *face palm*. It’s now getting to the point where I am worried to even try on my gym clothes, because they probably won’t fit around my fluctuating hips, expanding thighs and don’t get me started on my poor sports bra (it has already been through enough as it is).

BUT Christmas is plastered all over our shops and I’m using the whole “it’s Christmas” excuse to prevent the shame of admitting my eating habits are disgusting and I’m a bit of a carb mess. It’s also November and I’m told “too soon” for Christmas. Humbug.

As I age I feel like weight is such a controversial subject for me because somedays I “werk” my winter coverage feeling all empowered, owning my body, but other days I cry in the corner, wiping my tears away with magazine cut outs of Victoria Secret Models. Le sigh.

The problem I feel is I signed up for the gym because of superficial reasons, I want to look “hot” and my idea of hot is not my body shape. My height also intensifies weight gain and coverage because you can look a lot bigger due to being a little compressed in height compared to tall people. Small people, do you hear me? Or is my 5″3 self making up b***s***?

My heart and happiness definitely lies with sugary, carbohydrate food and lots of it, and I never feel joyful after exercise. I just hurt. I need to find the middle ground and I will; but just for tonight I’ll finish my bag of sweets (with joy) and think about all the seriousness of health tomorrow.

Have fun out there!

Love,

Pipedream xx

Magic

Throughout my childhood, I can always remember being surrounded by avid story tellers; my Grandad being the biggest.

I have many fond memories sitting around the ever changing dining room table at the family home (I swear each time I visited, it changed) with Grandad at the head of it, deep within the depths of a story. And no story was ever the same.

They always, most definitely evolved into more dramatic versions as a new guests listened, and encouraged him further.

His stories revelled in magic and people within his day to day life, captivating anyone in his company and I guess I’ve always craved to tell stories like him. To make life seem a little more magic.

However, yesterday I swear I saw a little glimpse of that story telling magic return. I’m very aware of coincidences but I have always been a bit of a skeptic about synchronicities (“meaningful coincidences”).

No one likes to lose their phone, especially now that a life can be stored within a thin slice of metal and glass; Bank details, favourite songs that remind you of good times and the ever growing apps to keep you entertained instead of socialising with humans. But that was exactly what I had done.

I had remained casually calm but 2 hours later and my steps fully retraced, despair began to seep in. I had received help from lots of people in the attempt to find my phone and I had experienced no luck.

Side note: Why on earth did I not think to register on “find my iPhone”? Am I mad?

Zeb (my car) had been subjected to thorough examinations (and my erratic driving between the sites of where I work) and me dramatically hitting the steering wheel, begging the heavens for a little touch of magic.

Since having my car, it’s been my most convenient place to throw fits of rage, sadness and overwhelming joy in utter privacy. But as I drove away from campus, shouting at the sky, I cannot express my shock as lightning flashed through the sky, just at the pinnacle of my rant.

The lightning I experienced wasn't a dramatic as this GIF.

Something within me, in that moment, changed. And I weirdly knew (synchronicity?) that I was going to find it. Don’t even ask why… I was just following my gut.

I had parked up and retraced my steps further and face down in the mud (in tyre tracks) was my phone and it’s ridiculous coloured case… brown. (I had checked there prior but in the midst of panic, I must have overlooked it).

I understand that this sounds absolutely ridiculous, and lightning adds a touch of pathetic fallacy to the story but in that very moment all was ironic and a touch monumental.

I think I need to invest in a glow in the dark case or something with a little more pizazz, in case this happens again. And I absolutely intend to switch on find my iPhone…

I have no idea what point this post serves but I feel like you should be reading this around a fire, listening to equally dreadful stories told by others.

Have fun out there.

With love,

Pipedream xx

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