The Missing Sisterhood.

If there's one thing that I learnt in Australia (apart from: DO NOT sleep anywhere near a dingo, of course) it was that women can be complete cows to eachother. I realise that I didn't need to travel across the world to come to this shock realisation, but it did inspire me to write about the bitchy middens that we are.

Image: Pinterest

As I melt into my seat on the train at Flinders Street, contemplating whether the stifling heat deems partial nudity on public transport acceptable behaviour, I fan myself with the free newspaper that was thrust into my arms on the way to the platform. I’m feeling dangerous, so I attempt to move my bare leg from the leather seat beneath me, only to realise upon ripping it off that any skin making contact with the seat is now closer to velcro than any sort of human matter it may have resembled earlier this morning. My hair has frizzed, my hands are clammy….my makeup has slid so far off my face my nipples are almost wearing mascara.

Just then, the doors of the train swoosh open, and on struts a beautiful, tall, DRY young woman. Not a drop of moisture on her, I look on in awe as she gracefully makes her way through the train carriage. Thinking back now, it all happened in slow motion. There was a lot of hair swishing. Like some sort of shampoo ad. That’s a severely dazed, sweaty, dehydrated account of what happened though, so don’t quote me on it. As she gazes through the crowds with her big baby blues looking for a seat, it is only then that I take a second to look around at my fellow commuters and realise a pattern; men are either gazing at her open mouthed or silently battling it out with one another to be crowned the most eligible train companion. Women, on the other hand, are unimpressed, hostile, judgmental, even jealous?  I admit it, this broad left me feeling like no treat, but did I hold it against her? No! So it got me thinking…

Confidence is a funny thing; its what we’re told we should have, the thing that some people lack…sometimes confidence is even considered unattractive. Confused? Me too.

We all have days when we feel like we’re not good enough, or even just that we’re not as good as some others. Am I right? But maybe our inner perceptions of ourselves are whats really holding us back. If I’m having a thunder thighs thursday and encounter a tall leggy girl in cut off denims with her legs out to the world, I’m immediately conscious of the size of my legs…quick to criticise my unsuspecting victim in an attempt to lighten the blow my ego has just taken. What kind of logic is there in that sort of thinking? The majority of us seem to have fallen foul to this horrible habit that’s crept up on us and made itself feel right at home in our sub-conscious, only revealing itself when we happen to cross paths with someone we feel inferior to. What if that seemingly perfect woman you were just glaring at was looking right back at you, admiring your hair/clothes/figure/eyes/general loveliness, albeit with the same bitterness you feel towards her. Would you be able to see what she sees?

The media drown us in stories of confident women- the (s)heroics of those who love themselves just enough to be admired, but not so much that they are found intimidating. Where is the fine line? Can Beyoncé be confident because she balances her bootylicious-ness with a strong hatred for her knees? If I’m feeling particularly foxy one day, should I voice how I feel about my bad skin to prevent myself from sounding full of it? With a calculated, but conflicting, pic’n'mix of celebrated curves, eating disorders, fad diets and ‘big is beautiful’ articles narrating popular culture, I find it easier to live my life as a confi -don’t.

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Today's Rant.

I’ve been an avid user of the internet since the days of dial-up, so not much that the internet has to offer surprises me anymore. Or so I thought.

I logged on this morning to find that ‘Twerk’ has made it into the Oxford dictionary.

Yes, twerk.

This may not seem odd to those who used the word, and did the twerking, back when it originated in the early nineties – but to the majority of people watching Miley bounce around, it may seem completely ridiculous. As I sit here writing this post, I take small comfort in the fact that ‘twerking’ is still being underlined by that jagged red line that usually infuriates me so much. Don’t ever change, Spellcheck…and I promise never to Add twerk to Dictionary.

It got me thinking about other words that have had their dictionary debut in the past year or so. I get it, we are now in a digital age and people are using words like selfie, twerk, totes, yolo – but when I Google the word ‘literally’ and get ‘Used to acknowledge that something is not literally true but is used for emphasis or to express strong feeling’ as a definition – shit just got serious.

I think it speaks for us as a generation when words used so informally are being made so mainstream. ‘Retweet’ is another word to have made it into the Oxfod Dictionary of Anything Goes – but what happens when Twitter disappears and something else takes over? 

With online jargon being spread through music, slogans and fashion, I wonder if the English language is just going to be something future kids read about in their weird little electronic robot books. 

I would LITERALLY die. 

Like, literally.

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My Wishlist.

Unfortunately - or fortunately depending on how skint I am at the time- my job leads me to many a website I never even knew existed. Websites full of beautiful clothes/bags/shoes/makeup that end up in my infinite Bookmarks list, just sitting idle until I feel reckless enough to purchase one of the little gems. 

I fear what I'm showing you now is less of a Wish List and more of a I'll Give In Sooner Or Later List. I feel like I should have a shopping version of that drunk text app. You know the one? Asking you just in the nick of time, when you're hammered on gin, if you really want to tell that boy exactly how much he means to you. Pick items, add to basket, proceed to checkout:

Computer: WOW. Are you sure about this?

Me: Um, yes... *OK*

Computer: Are you really sure though? Can you afford it?

Me: Yes! *OK*

Computer: FINAL WARNING: YOU CANNOT AFFORD THIS.

Me: Pfft... *clicks to confirm order*

What?

I ain't scared of no computer.

So here is my wish list... I could probably write up one of these every single day, but I'm going to keep it to my favourite bits and pieces because when I do eventually buy all of it in a couple of weeks- you can't shout at me. I'll be all: "This hasn't been some spur of the moment impulse decision...remember I blogged about it a couple of weeks ago?"

First up is the baby blue playsuit from Motel.I love the pattern, the colour is really sweet and it's got long sleeves. As someone who is somewhat of a chubber in the upper arm, sleeves are a godsend!

These heels are from Asos... I'm not going to lie, I saw a Little Mixer wearing them at the One Direction premiere. Minus 100 cool points? Maybe. But it's still a beautiful shoe!

Nike Dunk Sky Hi Paris Trainers. I've had a love hate relationship with trainers for a while now; I like the idea of having them and wearing them as everyday footwear... but don't like sporty looking trainers. Which I thought they all were. Until I saw THESE. I have searched the internet far and wide for these bad boys and the only result I'm getting is an eBay ad charging £230 for them. Surely that should be enough to put me off right? Wrong.

This jumper is a pretty low key item from Lavish Alice. I've never really dabbled in leopard print before but I think I'm going to start from the sleeves and work my way in. It's down to £18, I should just buy it shouldn't I? 

*Enter bossy computer app*

Maybe I'll think about it.

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