I love ice cream.
I love chocolate.
Therefore I really love when they’re both combined, such as in the case of Cornettos and Drumsticks.
So you would think my perfect date would involve one of these…no.
I have a slight issue with these ice creams – mainly that I can only eat them in private because well…umm…this happens:
I get ice cream all over my face
Yep. Just like a child.
No matter how careful I am I always end up with chocolate all over my face. Mainly my nose.
I have no idea how (and no big nose jokes)
Therefore it’s best to just not eat them in public…unless there’s a bathroom close by that I can dash into with a napkin over my mouth pretending I’m having a coughing fit.
I get stressed very easily and I don’t always help myself.
I will put off assignments until the last minute then stress when I start them the week before.
Your job is to calm me down, NOT point out that it is MY fault!!
The routine is always exfoliate then shave and there is a reason for this, which is it freaking hurts to do it the other way.
I have sensitive skin so it’s especially painful for me.
Clearly, I know this, yet on Saturday I found myself shaving without exfoliating first. Now this in itself is not a problem. There is no rule saying you have to exfoliate before shaving, but you should NOT do it after and what do you think I did?
While a normal person would think, “oh I forgot to exfoliate first, never mind, I’ll just leave it for today.” Me, I think, “oh maybe I’ll just do it after, I’m sure it won’t be the same as last time.” And what do you think happened? Yep. Rash. I spent all of Saturday night and Sunday sulking with red, itchy legs.
Do not laugh or say I told you so or even dare bring this up when I do it again!
(Also do NOT type razor burn or shaving rash into Google images. Hopefully I will learn from this at least!)
I am not a fan of body-shaming. As soon as someone publishes a new article about what the perfect person (or part of them, such as the oh-so-joyful thigh gap) looks like, I publicly start ranting about it. Twitter, Facebook, friends and sometimes even here, I will condemn the objectification of our bodies (both women and men) and talk about positive body image, individuality, beauty being skin deep, blah blah blah. I sound like I don’t care if I have a thigh gap or bikini bridge or whatever new reason we’re not perfect is, but secretly I do.
The Daily Mail published this article the other day about the newest body ideal for us to obsess over, the “nipple meridian.” Joy.
So, being the Daily Mail who’s regular readers don’t erm… read…they included a helpful diagram
The Nipple Meridian – The Daily Mail’s guide
Basically the attractiveness of breasts is based on a 45:55 ratio. Yep. 45% above the nipple and 55% below.
You don’t have to tell me this is stupid. I know it is. It’s proven by the fact it was published in the Daily Mail. I’ve already written about my hatred of being judged based on my appearance (most recently here) but after reading this (well not the Daily Mail, I read an article in the Age about how stupid the article in the Daily Mail was) I instantly checked my own nipple meridian. Not only that, I almost contacted an ex to ask him if he thought my nipples were in the 45:55 ratio (note the use of the word almost, I realised that would be really insane and put the phone down).
This is not the first time I’ve done this. When I heard about the thigh gap I immediately jumped up and stood with my legs together in front of the mirror to see if I had one (if you must know, I didn’t). With the bikini bridge I instantly laid down and checked if there was a gap between my hip bones and abdomen (and I actually squealed with delight when there was).
I understand that these things are stupid (and in most cases unattainable) and I wouldn’t want to date anyone who wanted me to have a thigh gap but that doesn’t mean I’m not self-conscious.
Basically, I’m a hypocrite.
As previously mentioned, I love football. I’m English, it’s basically my religion.
As I have also previously stated, I have OCD which means I have little quirks like I can’t wear odd socks.
Now usually my OCD has no effect on my enjoyment of football, until Puma decided to do this:
*eye twitch* WHY!!!!!!
These are the boots Puma designed for the Fifa 2014 World Cup. Now, knowing that I can’t wear socks that are even the slightest bit different, how do you think I feel about a pair of boots that are two totally different colours?!
Yep. I basically sit there, eye twitching, teeth grinding, muttering (and ok, occasionally yelling) about how much I hate Puma (with the occasional “FUCK YOU PUMA” thrown in there for good measure). I really struggled to watch the World Cup because of this. I had hoped these boots would be limited to the two weeks of the World Cup and when Premier League returned I would be safe to watch again. That’s when Puma decided to design some boots just for their sponsored Arsenal players:
Puma’s stupid special Arsenal boots
And Mario Balotelli also moved to Liverpool and insisted on continuing to wear his pink and blue boots.
I rant about this a lot and I spend much of a game or highlights show telling players to wear boots that are the same colour (if it’s live TV they can totally hear me!) It doesn’t help when the person watching with me (in this case my Dad) decides to further enrage me by shouting out things such as “did you see that? He hit it with his pink boot.” *GLARE*
Thank you Puma for ruining football for me and also inspiring me. I now plan to run for Fifa president purely so I can introduce a rule that says players are only allowed to wear plain black boots, with black laces, and a black or white sponsor logo.
They even come in a stupid box!!
As mentioned in my previous post I can be lazy, that’s why I was so excited by the innovation that is spray-on moisturiser. It’s so easy! No bending or trying to figure out the right amount needed – just spray and rub in and you can get all those hard to reach places, it’s like a triple win!
In case you wondered, this is the moisturiser I’m using and no I am not getting paid to promote it (though I wish I was!)
Now, you’re probably wondering what this has to do with…well…anything. OK here’s the problem, while spray is very convenient and quick (and ok, fun!) it has a downside. It gets on the floor and makes it slippery.
If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you will know that I am quite possibly the most uncoordinated person on this planet, so what do you think happens when I use spray moisturiser? Yep. I slip. While a normal, rational and reasonable person might think, “well maybe I just won’t use it anymore,” I have a very annoying little voice in my head whining at me, “but it’s just soooo easy!!”
I make slipping look fun!
I had reached an impasse. That’s when I had a brilliant idea – I will stand in the shower when I spray. I can just feel you rolling your eyes at me and thinking, “oh my God, what a moron.” Yes. It was a stupid idea. Shower is already slippery. Adding slippery moisturiser means it’s MORE slippery. So I still slip and I also end up cleaning the shower afterwards so it probably ends up taking the same amount of time that it would have if I had just used ordinary moisturiser. But the nagging voice persists.
So yes, despite all this, I will still use spray-on moisturiser and I will still complain about its slippery-ness. Don’t try to change me. Just accept the fact that my laziness might one day kill me.
See, t’was truly convenience, not curiosity, that killed the cat (the cat being me).
I am lazy. So very lazy.
If I’m not going out I don’t wear make-up, I don’t do my hair, I wear trackies and a big comfy hoodie. I like being comfortable.
Occasionally on one of my comfy, home-oriented days I feel the need to venture out into the great, wide world in search of food.
When venturing the 1km or so to my local shops or supermarket, I still don’t feel the need to do my hair and make-up or even change out of my trackies. I’m in public for 10 minutes at the most. But there are times when I wish I had made an effort. Such as when I run into cute boy. I worry that my appearance will mean he will overlook me, then I think, no. I’m not going to be interested in anyone who doesn’t give me the time of day just because I wear trackies in public or my hair is a mess.
If you don’t want to talk to me because of how I present myself, fine. It’s your loss.
There are loads of conspiracy theories around and I’ll admit that I follow some of them but there’s a particular one that I often bring up and it’s one of my own:
LIDS
Yep. You read that right. Lids. The lids of bottles and jars in particular.
Yep. Lids just like these!
I believe these are devices made by the devil himself!…Well not the devil, but by men.
Men realised that we women were evolving exponentially faster them and that soon they would no longer be needed. Therefore they created bottle and jar lids that women can’t remove themselves thus maintaining their usefulness! It’s a conspiracy dammit!
This is my general rant when I can’t open a bottle or jar. (And if I have PMS, as I stated in my previous post this is one of the things that will make me run around yelling “ELENA SMASH!”)
I hate being 25 and still having to have someone open my juice for me. I really, really do.
I know there are ways around this, I for one am a fan of using a knife to cut the seal open, but if you’ve been reading this blog you’ll know I’m very uncoordinated so that is a very bad idea.
Hence, this is all a ploy to encourage women to keep men around!
Rant over.
PMS effect every woman differently. Mostly in a negative way. When it comes to me, I would say that PMS has the same effect on me as anger on Bruce Banner. I turn into a mini-hulk type figure stomping around yelling “ELENA SMASH!” (I would love to tell you I’m exaggerating but I have actually been known to do this when I’m really annoyed at something or someone.)
RAWR!! ELENA MAD! ELENA SMASH!!!
So when I have PMS I would advise you stay away (but not too far or else I will start crying and accuse you of ignoring me) and tread lightly. And for your own safety, please for the love of God do NOT eat my chocolate or ice-cream!
This is why I'm single... 