I have a couple of NOTD posts. Firstly the uber-sparkly pink polish from Nails Inc, Burlington Place, which was amongst the polishes hubby bought me for my birthday. It's as camp as a fully bedecked Christmas tree and I love it. This was three coats and my nail line was still slightly visible underneath so this is definitely a layering polish.
Click on photos to enlarge.
Next up we have the mani I have on now, which is Y'all come back ya hear, which is an orange with a jelly finish and The Colour of Minnie, the softly shimmering red. This was two coats each. I don't think the orange would ever be opaque thanks to the jelly nature of it.
I won't be buying any more OPI (no matter how much I'm drawn to them) as they're not cruelty free and I thought they were. Duh. I learn more all the time about my new CF mission. I will just concentrate on all the great CF nail polish out there like Zoya, Barry M, Butter London, Catrice, Essence, Ciate, elf, Models Own, Nails Inc, NYX, Tony Moly, etc etc etc.
I love the mix of orange and red together. I think I'll do lots more colour- blocking of nails like that.
Today I'm going to talk about compliments. Our mission for today is: Tell us about the best compliment you have ever received.
Who doesn't love compliments? I'm the same as anyone else in that respect. I'm going to go for the most recent compliment I received, which was on Friday from my cousin's little girl, C. She's really my second cousin but she wants me to be her auntie, so an Auntie I am! C is my favourite person, she's just adorable. I was wearing a pretty peach dress with little cream hearts. She touched my dress at the hem and shyly said 'You look really beautiful in your dress.' AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Consider my heart well and truly melted.
There's something extra special about being loved by a child. They love you for you, and that's as pure as it gets. She doesn't see me as a fat person, just as a person who dishes out lots of squidgy hugs and occasionally brings presents for her. On Saturday when we went out for a meal to celebrate my dad's and brother's birthdays. C always wants to sit next to me when we go for a meal but on this occasion she had the company of other children to play with so she sat on another table. After the meal I teased her saying 'I thought you'd forgotten who I was!' She didn't say anything then, but the next day she sidled up to me for a cuddle and said 'I didn't forget you yesterday.' I said I know, that she had children of her own age to play with. With that she gave me an indignant 'B_____'s FIVE, you know. I'm EIGHT!' Well that's me told! :D
She was coming into my aunt's living room on Sunday when she whipped her head round and smacked her temple right on the heavy metal door handle. I think it made all of us feel sick at the sound of it and of course C was immediately in floods of tears. Her dad picked her up to have a look at her eye and she shook her head and said 'I want Leah!' so I gave her lots of cuddles and wiped away her tears. She said she felt sleepy so I was thinking 'Head injury - sleepy - not good!' but she was offered some of her favourite pomegranate seeds and she soon perked up, thankfully.
I've got this cardigan with studs on the shoulder and she loves it. She's always putting it on even though she can wrap it around herself 4 times. She looks like Dracula in his cloak wearing it, in fact this weekend she said 'What's a Dracula?' I said sharp teeth, likes to bite necks and she said 'Oh, a vampire!' Hehe.
Here she is hiding under her cardi while Dr Who final was on because the men with scary teeth were giving here the heebie jeebies.
So, what's the best compliment you've ever had? Thanks for reading!
22 days done, 9 to go...not that I'm counting or anything....*looks shifty*.
Today's mission is: If you could talk to your 13 year old self, what would you say?
Strap yourselves in. Trigger warning for everything.
Dear 13 year old Leah, This year you start having periods. I'm sorry to say they don't get any better and you have about 40 more years of this shit, so painkillers are your friend. Oh, and even though you're not going to discover the art of self-love for another 3 years, it totally helps with the cramps.
You're going into the most uncertain and challenging times of your life - at home, in school, and in your relationships with others, but above all this, your body will be the thing you are made to feel bad about the most. Yes, you were a very tubby child, but if not for the adults around you making you feel bad about your body, you'd be absolutely fine - in fact, by the time you're 15 your love of the outdoors and walking will mean almost all your puppy fat goes and you are muscular and strong as an ox, but you won't realise that until 20 years later when it's far, far too late. Kids are always cruel, but it's not really their cruelty that will affect you - it's the arseholes in your own family and church who'll do that - people who SHOULD know better. You'll remember one time at nan's when the adults were having a dig, and your cousins joined in too, because what adults get away with unchallenged kids think is acceptable behaviour. You stormed out over to the rec away from the cunts and to cry, wondering why your mum never stood up for you. 20 years later you'll realise it's because they did the same to her, and then you can't be upset with her any more.
I'm not going to lie, the next few years are going to get gnarly. When you're 14 and away to visit your dad for the first time in years your mum is going to move an alcoholic rapist into your home. He's going to make your life a living hell for the next 5 years, try to sexually assault you (luckily you had no use for the 10 inch knife down your trouser leg at the time but I know you would've chopped it off at the root at the earliest opportunity), smash up the bathroom twice, ban you from entering the living room for the entire years he's there, make you leave school and go out to work to support your mother who is struggling to fund his booze habit, make you buy (and cook) your own food as soon as you start work and then nick most of it so you are forced to go hungry, beat the shit out of your dog so badly she goes blind, and all the while your mother will support him, even after he tries to coerce you into bed. Worse than that, she'll fuck off out constantly leaving you alone with him in the house so often that you get a lock put on your bedroom door and lay in bed, scared to make a sound so he'll know you're in, scared to even breathe. You'll spiral into ill mental health that will see you check under every bed and in every wardrobe for years to make sure you're safe in the house until finally, you move in with your mum's friend 5 days a week so you at least can concentrate on your school work. You'll only get a break from this when you break down telling your dad about it aged 18. You hadn't been really close with him for a long time but soon you'll be living with him and he'll be sleeping on a mattress on the floor for a year so you don't have to put up with the abuse any more. By 19 you'll be moved out of the town that caused so many bad memories and off to start a new life. Things will get brighter. You're tougher than you know. That alcoholic cunt dies, and your only regret will be you're too far away to piss on his grave. You make it up with your mum, and your dad is there for you. What he didn't do in your early childhood years he'll more than make up for in time. You'll meet and go out with a few arseholes, but long, long into your future you'll meet someone who'll make you realise the rest happened just so you knew what you didn't want in a partner. Far from letting the events in your life poison you, you are more aware of the suffering of others as a result and try to be kind, because as you know all too well, you can never tell what a person is dealing with behind closed doors. Oh, by the way, when you're 15 you'll have a dalliance with Sun In hair lightener. It won't go well, trust me. You should always wear sunscreen, but you won't. You really are a stubborn bugger. Love, Your positively ancient older self x x x Thanks for reading, and if you're feeling sad for me, don't. I got through it all, and I'm happy. I don't think about this stuff too much because it makes me sad, but it needs to be pulled out and dealt with once in a while.
It's OMCZ time again, and this fortnight's challenge was picked by Gail, who chose geek as the theme. Click photos to enlarge.
**EDIT** I forgot to list where my clothes are from.
Cardi, Simply Be (I think, past season) via eBay
T shirt, gift from a friend (a few years ago)
Skirt, Simply be (old)
We were talking on Twitter (Steph, Gail and I) about geeky things and I nearly did a dance when I remembered I have my original 1990s Gameboy...except could I find it? Could I hell! Oops.
So I went with big glasses, pigtails, a cardi (all good geeks love a cardi), my phone and a George R R Martin book as my geeky things. I have no waist nor feet in these photos, but hey ho, they'll come back for another day.
Go and check out the other ladies in the challenge.
Today I'm going to write about my dream job. The brief was thus: If you could do anything in the world to make a living what would it be?
My dream job is writing. I love to write and blog and my ideal would be to be able to make money from it. Ever since I've been able to grasp a pen being a writer has been all I wanted to do. As a child when asked what I wanted to do the answer was always 'Be an author.' The trouble is that aside from writing posts for my blog I'm terribly undisciplined. At the cusp of the year I set out to write my autobiography. Before you think 'Jaysus, she's a bit jumped up!' I have to say it has been at the request of a lot of people over a number of years as I've had a somewhat chequered past and an um, entertaining life, to put it in flowery terms. How far have I got in 5 months? Halfway through the first chapter. At this rate I'll be done by the time I'm about 70. I have this terribly romantic notion of myself labouring over a rickety old typewriter, supping endless cups of coffee to keep me alert (I don't even really like coffee - it gives me the shits!) whilst I mop my angsty writer's brow and gaze wistfully at the outside world from a rain-drenched window. I keep thinking up reasons not to write, when quite obviously I need to find reasons to bloody well write.
I have the perfect location for inspiration - our living room has a view of the sea and our sun room would be the perfect place for me to write from - there's already a table out there I could use as a desk and it's out of the comfort of the living room so it would feel like 'work' rather than fannying around. There's nothing stopping me from sitting out there for an hour a day inspired by the sea and working on something, except my own self-doubt and a mild dose of hypothermia on cold days, but it's nothing an extension lead and a fan heater won't fix. When I address my 'blocks' to doing what I want to do in a rational manner like this it blows them all out of the water and boils it all down to either laziness, or that perhaps I don't really want to do what I think I want to do - if that makes sense?! I suppose the only way to find out if I'm book author material is to give it enough of a go - suck it and see, as they say. I don't doubt that writing a book is a massive commitment of time and effort, and it may just be I'm better suited to shorter pieces of work, but either way exercising my writing muscles in any way, shape or form can only be a good thing. I think the hard part is choosing something to write about, in which case a bash at my own life story might be a great way to cut my teeth. No one knows me like I do, after all!
In this day of the internet we are all our own historians. There's never been such a wealth of information available to 'pass on' to our loved ones, and what better way to influence the way we are remembered than telling our story in our own words? Have you ever thought about writing your story? What's your dream job? Thanks for reading.
Some of you who follow me on Twitter will know my blogging Twitter account @justmeleah_blog was suspended about 10 days ago. I thought it was because I'd retweeted a photo of a gigantic penis which was too good not to pass on (hahaha.) It turns out I was actually suspended because I got caught up amongst a bunch of spam accounts and they'd suspended my account in error. It has been reinstated now.
In the meantime I was tweeting up a storm on my original/general chit-chat Twitter account, @justme_leah and lots of people who were following me on my blogging account then started following me there too, which now leaves me in the position where some of you will be following me twice. For some of you that'll might be too much of me, so feel free to follow me on one account or both, if you wish. ;)
To clarify, the @justmeleah_blog account will have my blog post links posted to it, I'll be taking part in psbloggerschat on that account and chatting about blog related things, with a tiny sprinkle of real life stuff thrown in.
The @justme_leah account will be used for more of my general life stuff, will likely have a few health-related posts about Fibromyalgia/CFS/depression and activist-y stuff about the welfare reforms/disabled rights etc. It's also likely to be a bit more sweary than my blogging account on occasion and will have a lot of my Instagram photos posted to it.
So follow me on one account, both (or none) as you wish!
Aside from the 31 days of May posts (which I'm kind of regretting starting as I worry I'm boring you all) I've not had as much time for the blog as I'd like of late. I can't go into the exact reasons why, but a mixture of life stuff and slightly-more-ill-health-than-usual is putting great demands on my time and it means I've had to batten down the hatches in the last week and focus on self-care above all else. I'm fine, hubby's fine, and it'll all come out in the wash, so just bear with me and I'll be back to regular scheduling soon.
Today is day 21 of 31 days of 'Blog Every Day in May.' Today's remit is: Talk about something that is in the news today.
Well, my cousin told me something yesterday from the news, and it's in the forefront of my mind now. Now, a disclaimer. We can't believe everything we see in the news. Half the time the 'news' is there to distract us with fripperies while mass genocide goes virtually unnoticed, but I'm not going to talk about anything as important as war - I don't know enough about it. (We seem to have reached a Catch-22 already.) Celebrity I do know a lot about, shallow bitch that I am - although having said that, I made a conscious decision to stop reading trashy mags and newspaper articles about who was shagging who because it's so transient. However, when someone has been in the public eye for so long, we tend to feel we know them, and that leads me onto... I first became aware of Johnny Depp when he was in 21 Jump Street (the old TV show, not the hilarious film of recent times.) Or was it in Nightmare on Elm St where I saw him first? Either way, I fancied his part-Native-heritage butt off. He had his wild model-shagging days and then settled down to a life of domestic bliss in France with the gap-toothed sylph Vanessa Paradis. Although he was taken out of our daydreams and into the arms of the person responsible for 'Joe Le Taxi' (Youtube it if you're not familiar) it was somehow OK because Vanessa was relatively normal by Hollywood standards. She wasn't made of hair extensions, acrylic nails and silicone. She probably reeked of red wine and garlic and may have swallowed a few snails and frogs legs in her lifetime. You can't be jealous of someone who's chewed on a snail, surely?! Anyway, I digress. Then the news came that Johnny and Vanessa were splitting up, and there were rumours it was because he'd fallen cock over vagina for smokin' hot Amber Heard, Johnny's co star in The Rum Diaries. If you haven't seen it, for fuck's sake watch the mano-a-mano bouncing up and down in the car scene below. I think I laughed up a kidney. Anyway, back to the tale of the middle aged man making a total arse of himself...so he's *allegedly* left the mother of his two children for a woman for 20 years his junior. Oh, it's all amicable, of course - methinks because Vanessa Paradis is too classy to drag their business through the gossip columns. Why, Johnny, why? Why think with your cock? (Actually, why do any of you male earthlings think with your purple heads instead of the one with eyebrows?! Rhetorical question, obvs, you're still thinking about Amber Heard.)
All things age Johnny, even you. In 2, 5, 10 or 20 years Amber Heard might have fucked off for someone who's in better restorative order and then you'll have whiskey-soaked nightmares of the gap-toothed baby-mama you left for a taste of younger poon. Is it worth it, when in a few years your kids may call another man 'daddy'? Are you planning on recycling your life and having a couple of kids with your new squeeze and her younger womb? Did you do it just because you can? Have you for all these years hoodwinked us? Was the staggering drunk Cap'n Jack Disney-ola persona just a front for what is essentially an alcoholic tramp with entitlement issues? And why is the rum always gone?
Or have I got it all wrong? Is it wrong to suppose blame on the part of the one who shacks up first post-break up? Is it biased of me to think that because men have left behind their 'old' families for aeons to life afresh with younger partners Mr Depp is doing the same? Or is there no smoke without fire? What did you think when you heard those 'Johnny loves Amber' rumours might actually be true? Or do you not give a flying monkey fuck who he dips his wick in? This, my friends, is why I stopped reading the gossip columns. My time could be so much better spent.
I will now go and watch grass grow for an hour to free myself from the headache I got trying to work out what drives Johnny Depp's dick radar.
Thanks for reading, it's been a ride!
Now for the love of all that's good and holy, watch this scene.
We all make up traditions that carry
over year after year. What is your favourite tradition? Big or small,
share the details and why you enjoy it.
I'm not a traditional person per se - I don't have a Sunday roast, I don't have a weekly fish night, no scheduled bonk days, or any other such thing, but one big tradition in my family is to spend Christmas Day at my aunt's house. When my nan was still alive about 20 of us used to pile round her house for Christmas lunch and a buffet tea. It was crowded, freezing cold despite the numbers, and we always used to have to manoeuvre over a drunk uncle passed out on the floor blocking the way to the bathroom, but those are times we all look back fondly upon because we were all together. My nan would get her record collection out, which had 'classics' like Max Bygraves, Chas and Dave and other cheesy sing-along tunes. She loved a sing-song, my nan, Cockney bird that she was.
She died in 1997, and the first Christmas after that we went to my aunt Sis's house, but since 1998 my aunt Ann has always hosted Christmas lunch. Numbers have dwindled over the years, as the 'glue' that held us all together has gone and the family has fragmented into its own factions slightly. Of course it'll never be quite the same again, but we make the best of it - after all, life goes on. I'm sure many a family before ours has lost its matriarch and at the same time lost some of its sparkle. Some people have such a life force about them that everybody is different somehow in their absence, almost as if we've lost the oil to our gears and nothing flows quite as smoothly. My nan was one of those people who smoothed everything over, brought everyone together and made things it all look effortless. I'm sure she had a good swear over the cooker when no one was in earshot, but her main priority was making sure everyone was fed, and fed well.
Look at the fetching 70s wallpaper below!
L-R Me, nan, my brother and my mum, who's shooting the world's greatest evils to whoever was taking the photo. Note we're all elbow deep in crisps. Stay classy.
What's your favourite tradition? Thanks for reading!