105. Big

When I was younger and fighting adolescence surrounded by fields not bad influences, chasing ponies not boys I couldn't wait, we couldn't wait to finally get out and grow up. Wear make up, drink with a wider group than the boy school sixth form. School was just one big disappointment, I mean I always had friends of course but we were never badly behaved enough to be cool and nowhere near good looking enough for this not to matter. Boyfriends were treated like near miracles - I remember one chap used to drive a car with one of those awful body kits, he was a couple of years older, and I was besotted. After years of mooning after him, trying to look cool in the pharmacy his mum worked in while I waited for an acne prescription on the off chance of him popping in... he asked me out. Well of sorts, he used to pick me up in his car, car of dreams remember, and cruise round town before going back to his where I'd let him try and kiss me then make my awkward excuses to leave. I was under strict orders that I wasn't allowed to tell anyone, sophisticated or what. 

Desperate to be seen as the grown up I so clearly was I imagined my twenties to be glossy and full of romantic meetings like I'd seen on this programme, Sex and the City. Played on mute, one eye on the door just in case mum tried to come in and wanted to give me a sex talk or worse still someone from school found out and called me a lezzo (the worst of all secondary school labels, remember?) I wanted out of provincial living where everyone knew what everyone I was doing. I wanted bright city lights, a bright city flat and a decent Selfridges to supermarket carrier bag ratio. I'd wear high heels, cook up a storm, I'd be dancing on the so called glass ceiling before 25 and then finally accept that marriage proposal and have some babies. That’s how this happens, right?

University came and went, I bought a Britta filter, I made cleaning rotas, I moved in with the boy and started an internal checklist. Steady collection of flat pack furniture. Check. Family birthdays where we're both invited. Check. Mutual friends, invites to the weddings of mutual friends. Check. Check. Duvet sets, shared coat hangers, a Sunday laundry routine. I'd just graduated and sat waiting, drumming my fingers for adulthood to just happen. I became more and more serious. Work was important, our future was important, going out on a Friday and not coming home was not how it was meant to be. In reality I was planning and buying media space, hardly brain surgery, and I now realise I was lonely not desperate for him to sit in with a Horlicks and a jigsaw every weekend. Constantly pushing for an answer, where is this going? 

Once he got a peek at my blog and a post called "ring wish list" in my defence it was based on the Marc Jacobs dove rings but no amount of reassurance got that across. Doomed. The break up was documented well enough here, I moved into town and rebuilt my entire life. New flat, new job, new sunny outlook. (When I wasn't crying into that second bottle of wine that is, refreshing his Facebook page every minute, wet mascara pouring down my face and collecting in a pool in my collar bone. I lost weight, #winning) 

Living on my own, throwing myself into work. Where's that checklist now? Last week I dropped in on a bra event at Tezenis, every item in store for a cut price for one day only. Brilliant. I walked out with armfuls of super identical and super sensible white bras - and a single baby pink one which, if you squint, looks suspiciously white and is just as sensible. No buttons, no boost up and no blushes necessary. Poured out onto my bed next to the Wang handbag and a packet of Meadham Kirchhoff nail wraps that will forever stay in said packet (since when am I ever going to want to use va-jay-jay themed nail art in real life?) I had to confirm that this pile of sensible smalls was, and is, the most grown up the only grown up thing about me.

And maybe I'm actually ok with this. So what if I spend my last ten pounds on Tatler and fake tan. So what if I'm not going to settle down any time soon. I drink far too much on nights out, listen to the Wanted on Spotify (minimised window, obvs) wear dresses Zooey D herself would applaud, every few months I debate shorter extensions and yet I still opt for mermaid hair.

I've stopped stressing, searching for someone to tell me "Gosh aren't you adult" Call me, don't call me I won't be sitting up. The laundry hasn't been done? I won't be worrying. When my greatest stress is finding that bikini that will stay in place and make my tits look fantastic when I go away next month I think we've turned a corner. Youngest in the team? I'm the youngest in the agency, people roll their eyes when I talk I can't be sure many think I'm very good at my job but that could just be my paranoia. Childish or what. Sometimes I spend entire Saturdays in bed, not achieving not full filling anything. I don't save, I don't make plans further than the weekend.

And yes. I think I can live with that. 

104. The woman your woman could play like

Hello, gentlemen, look at your woman, now back to me, now back at your woman, now back to me. Sadly, she isn’t me, but if she stopped watching Gossip Girl and switched to playing Call of Duty, she could help break the siege in the battle of Khe Sanh like me. Look down, back up, where are you? You’re on an original Nintendo 64 with the woman your woman could play Goldeneye like. What’s in your hand, back at me. I have it, it’s a Playstation handset with all characters unlocked on Tekken 3. Look again, the controllers are now a level 81 Paladin with dual spec. Anything is possible when your woman plays like a lady gamer and not a noob. I’m on a Mario Cart.

*Inspired entirely by old spice*

103. What Laura Did (The Birthday Edition)

The Caudalie event with Natalie, genuinely excited to try the purifying mask is that a bit sad? / Monki changing rooms a la Gretchen: "Well, I mean you wouldn't buy a skirt without asking your friends first if it looks good on you." The joys of trying to get a decent yes I'm in a changing room but how does it look picture. / Finding that even in an xs size dress the mirror is not friendly – how large does this shift dress look? I did end up buying this little beaut and I love it / Alongside the standard issue and much loved money my parents bought me lots of beautiful kitchen bits for my birthday – pastel measuring cups, do you know just how Nigella that makes me feel in the kitchen?? I’ve made more muffins than my waist can cope with, best present ever / Taking two days off for my birthday, the absolute joy of taking hours to get ready with eyelashes and a decent blow dry attempt with no rush. / Drinks in Covent Garden with my lovely parents / Le Relais de Venise for steak supper. Even dad was impressed – although I think the fact I shared my steak and my pudding might have had something to do with that! One of my favourite restaurants in town and such a lovely treat / Baking muffins /Flowers outside Liberty. Can someone buy me flowers please. Anyone? / The singing handyman. He was clearly miming / Cherry blossom on my road / Inspired by Laura, who wouldn’t want this as their phone background?

102. Easter Treats

The first Easter away from any kind of family celebration krept up on me this year. With four days and few plans the weekend was spent in lazy food comas by day catching up with mum and friends and a spot of impromptu bar hopping by night. Easter itself has been a particularly lazy affair, refusing to buy myself chocolate I made hot cross bun inspired muffins instead with apples, orange zest, cinnamon, a pinch of ginger, dark brown sugar and a naughty sprinkle of white sugar on top before baking. We've finished off about four each with cups of tea and  Mary Poppins on the TV and later we plan to catch the tube down to Covent Garden for an easy walk ( and to burn those muffins off) Lovely stuff, and another whole day off tomorrow too! 

A couple of poor phone quality snaps from my day so far.

101. Approach with caution

If every pink wrapped, glossy paged, sweet as saccharine chick lit is to be believed; that chance encounter, the moment your eyes meet across a crowded train, that handsome stranger (they're always handsome) asking to buy your coffee is just bound to end in love. True love. Nothing but love.

As. If. Public pursuing is quite possibly as uncomfortable as a gyno appointment and nowhere near as productive. Fancy them and theres the fear he's drunk, or partially sighted and bound to realise his mistake any minute. There's the fear others will be watching and judging just how quickly you say yes. God she's easy. There's the fear of saying no to a lowly 4 on the tube if there's a chance it might put the solid 8 sat next to you off asking you out instead. Then the sad realisation that the solid 8 sat next to you is never going to ask you out.

Several weekends ago I was makeup free minus a lick of mascara, it wasn't pretty, but some guy still struck up a conversation and asked me out on the tube. He was ok, nice jacket, nice hair. He may as well have grown a second head right there and then for what I can imagine the absolute look of horror on my face must have been. The truth is that even faced with a decent looking boy the act of public, unrehearsed asking out isn't romantic and exciting. It's bloody terrifying. I wanted to say why? Why, when I'm not wearing foundation? Do you not have standards? See, even the nice guys can't get it right.

And ladies lets not pretend we don't know just how tactless the not so fairer sex can be I've grinned, grimaced and guffawed at gems like "I don't fancy her, but she's the one I'll always wonder what if..." or "This is the happiest I've been all year " (we were drum shopping) or the simple but oh so effective social commentary of "woah". Even today I thought I'd nailed casual knit charm for the Italian to ask "Has someone broken up with you again?"

No, but I'm never wearing this jumper out again.

The thing is; these little moments of absolute brain to mouth malfunction are usually saved until you've known each other for a few months. Not long enough for there to be any serious consequences obviously, but enough to be able to smile at their stupidity and vow to get them back and then forget all about it. How are we meant to react when they've dropped an absolute clanger of a line on first meeting?

"I love your perfume"
"oh I'm not wearing perfume"
"No really it smells great, you smell great"

We were stood next to the loo in a very busy bar but I'm not entirely sure he'd realised that. I certainly spent a lot of time trying to check if I (a) smelled like a loo and (b ) if that genuinely did smell rather nice. Last week a builder waited until I was level with him then shouted "YOUAREVERYBEAUTIFUL" at my face. Forget thinking of something cutting to say back (I refuse to accept street calls as compliment) I nearly fell over it was launched at me with such force. Another gentleman followed me from one end of the tube platform to the other, sat next to me and walked side by side with me until I reached the tube exit where he finally stopped me, admitted he didn't know where he was going but didn't want to miss his chance of asking me out. I'm sure in his head he thought this was very romantic, I call it lucky. I had my studded Alexander Wang in my hand and was this close to swinging it in his direction. At his face.

You see there just isn't a right way to do this, there's a very fine line between romantic and "requires assistance for reported harassment". Gentlemen I beg you, save your spontaneity, reign in that romance and for gods sake ignore those impulses. You may be kicking yourself but at least she won't be. 


*Disclaimer, the above events took place over a year. Don't think I imagine myself as some man magnet, christ I'm no Samantha Brick.

100. Sunday summary

1. So last week I found out a kidney infection was actually adrenal exhaustion - brilliant news on the busiest week of the year so far! I've been trying to catch up on sleep but I've had about as much charisma and personality of the Hilton girls, my medicine still makes me nauseous within minutes and even today I'm still genuinely aching and falling asleep into my dinner. Lovely stuff.

2. It's my birthday on Tuesday and my lovely parents are coming to London for dinner - I think my favourite Sardinian will host, it's the closest thing to our friends trattoria in our tiny Italian village and their ravioli is just to die for. Mum spent a good 10 minutes this evening rattling various birthday presents down the phone to see if I could guess what they were (I couldn't, obvs) but I'm more excited about having the two of them in town.

3. Forget turning 23 though, I feel more like 43. Tonight I've turned down a fabulous night in Boujis for a night in my pyjamas with a mug of tea, forget dolling myself up these days the best part of my day is taking my make up off.

4. This is my 100th post, it feels like I've been writing this forever and not just 18 months. Thank you to everyone who reads it, comments on it, follows it. I'm planning a thank you giveaway just for you lovely lot soon.

5. Another special thank you to Natalie from www.miabellaluna.blogspot.com for inviting me to the Caudalie event. It was such a lovely evening and she cheered me right up when I was feeling so rotten - and didn't complain once at my awful map reading skills, what a babe!

6. I've treated myself to some Victorias secret bikinis for my holiday in June. Does this guarantee I'll look exactly like the model as soon as I put it on? No? Please?

7. I've decided that I really don't like my fringe. Brilliant.

8. Fringes grow out quickly though, don't they?

9. Literally sat willing my fringe to grow right now.

10. The rest of tonight will be spent watching back to back I'm Alan Partridge (I'm obsessed, literally obsessed) with a face mask (perfect skin before the morning please I'm sick of looking gross) and the secret bar of fruit and nut I found hidden in the fridge. Bliss