A Little Bit About…Beauty Regimes (while in lockdown)

Ironically my very first part time job was in a popular high street health and beauty store within the make-up and fragrance section. Now I say that is ironic, purely because I myself am prone to a beauty fail or two (or 1,782) and the fact that I was advising the general public on “beauty” was quite simply a disaster waiting to happen. Don’t get me wrong, I am very much a girly girl – I love getting dressed up and doing my hair and make up – but I am FAR from being a natural at it. In the last year alone I have had some of the most epic beauty fails possible. Examples to follow in a second.

In every family or group of friends there’s normally different types of women, right? There’s the one who has watched enough YouTube make-up tutorials that they could give any famous make-up artist a run for their money.  There’s the one that somehow manages to paint her right hand as well as her left hand when painting nails (something I will never be able to get my head around). There’s the one who has every single lotion and potion you could ever need. There’s the one that can curl her own hair. There’s the holy grail, the one that can French pleat her own hair. Then, there’s me. I am none of those girls. When I get ready with my friends for a night out, all I’m trusted with is pouring the wine!

Right, now to tell you about some of those beauty fails I mentioned. Let’s first rewind to Spring last year when I had a wedding to attend in the north of Spain with friends. I decided to try out some fake tan on my legs, as I didn’t want to have to wear tights. I didn’t have any latex gloves to put the fake tan on with, so I tried to improvise and somehow thought a Ziploc sandwich bag over each hand would do the job….it did not. I repeat, it did NOT. Patchy or streaky don’t even begin to describe what my legs looked like. I somehow managed to achieve a striped, chevron effect. Needless to say I ended up going to the wedding with bright red legs after scrubbing them so much to get back to “normal”.  

Now my next example happened only just a month ago, proving I don’t ever learn from my mistakes. I didn’t have time to drop in to my usual beautician, so decided I should attempt to quickly tidy up my eyebrows myself while getting ready to go to brunch with friends. I rummaged about in my bathroom cupboard to find some of those “easy to use” wax strips you can buy in stores as they seemed easy enough to use if even the box said so. I did the left eyebrow first, not perfect, but good enough end result. Then…I got cocky. I wacked the next strip onto the right eyebrow WHILE brushing my teeth at the same time. BAD MOVE! I pulled the strip off after a minute or so and continued to brush my teeth. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw the wax strip I had just used…with half of my eyebrow on it! I was terrified to look in the mirror, and when I finally did, my worst fears were confirmed – I had accidentally waxed off the outside half of my right eyebrow. I honestly think my poor right eyebrow might be the only thing on the planet that is thankful for the lockdown situation – a chance to regrow without all the funny looks!

What made me think of these stories today? Well as much as we’re all aware of the severity of the current COVID-19 situation, we can’t help but think about how our basic beauty regimes have gone out the window, am I right? Roots are growing out, grey hairs are growing in, fringes are growing into eyes, Shellac manicures are half way up our nails by now and there are monobrows galore!  

Hairdressers, beauticians, nail technicians – you guys are the unsung heroes behind every outfit we choose and every picture posted on Instagram. We miss you and appreciate you more than ever!

A Little Bit About…Mums

I’m at a funny stage in life whereby some of my cousins and my best friends are mums to their own children, meanwhile I still ask my mum to phone the dentist for me when I need an appointment (anyone else in that boat? I guess I’m learning we never really grow out of that, no matter what age). But no matter who the mum figure in your life is, or what your definition of mum may be, it seemed fitting to do a little post about all the great mums out there in the world since today is Mother’s Day back home in the UK.

I’ve been fortunate to always have my mum by my side. She’s my personal assistant, comfort blanket, body guard, fashion advisor, therapist, personal shopper, taxi driver, cheerleader and number one fan all wrapped up into one 5ft 2½ inch woman (if I’ve learnt anything about keeping her happy, it’s that the aforementioned ½ an inch is important!). A real life superhero.

Over the last 29 years, I’m pretty certain I’ve racked up quite a lot of daughter-debt in time, money and energy to both her and my dad. Between keeping me fed and watered and always spending quality time with me, to staying up to all hours of the night (deliberately not going to specify here whether I am referring to when I was a crying baby or to the countless times I have had one glass of wine too many and came home from the pub too late). The point is, I owe you a whole lot. But since I’m so wonderful, let’s just call it even, okay? 😉

We might not always look alike (everyone normally says I look like my dad much to mum’s annoyance haha), we might not share the same taste in clothes, music or TV shows, and we might not always have agreed on whether or not I should tidy my room when I was younger, but we do most certainly have one thing in common: the DNA which somehow enables us to get ourselves into ridiculous situations! I’m pretty sure if I wasn’t your daughter, I wouldn’t have done even half of the silly things which have enabled me to create content for this blog (let’s make ourselves feel better and call them “life experiences”, shall we?). But what can I say, I wouldn’t change you or our (very high) probability of getting into ridiculous situations for the world.

Anyway, just like us (I’m also only 5ft 2½ inches), I’m not going to say too much else and keep this short and sweet. Love you mum!

A Little Bit About…Cleaning

For those of you that know me well, you’ll know that organising is not my forte. Don’t get me wrong, I can be organised when I want to be, but why deny it when the majority of the time I find myself chasing my tail. Do I pack the hour before going to the airport? Do I run about like a crazy person at 6am in the morning trying to piece together an outfit for work? Do I iron my dress when I’m supposed to already be running out the door to go meet my friends for dinner? Yes, guilty as charged for all of the above. BUT, do I know exactly where everything is? Yes, 99% of the time I do. Even if that does mean that when I want to put on those black and gold earrings I got last summer, I need to remember they are in a gold clutch bag under a pile of gym clothes at the bottom of my wardrobe. Organised chaos I believe it’s called.  

So why is this week’s chosen topic about organisation? Well, I haven’t left my flat in the past 4 days because of the current Coronavirus situation (we’ve been told to stay indoors except for emergencies where I live) and have quickly had to adjust to life indoors, when I’m used to constantly being out and about. And what have I found? That I have cleaned and organised more in the past 96 hours that I have in the past 29 years. Mrs Hinch would be proud! It hasn’t necessarily been a case of trying to disinfect my entire house to get rid of germs, but instead it’s been my way of feeling like I’m being productive with my time.

So what exactly have I organised? Here’s a few examples…

Does anyone else have a chair in your room that gradually accumulates stuff through the week? Like the 5 outfits you tried on and decided against before picking the one you want to go out in. Or the clean washing that you haven’t had time to hang back up yet. Well for the first time in probably months, I can see the actual chair!

Another habit of mine is chucking whatever I have in my hand as I walk in the front door into a decorative bowl I have on a side table. It was like an unintentional memory box today filing through everything and sorting it out. There were the usual culprits, like spare change, receipts, headphones and packets of chewing gym. Then there were a few previously thought to be missing in action items, like my favourite sunglasses, a charging cable for my work phone and a pack of new batteries I was convinced I had bought but couldn’t find anywhere.

I also sorted out the bathroom. Boy oh boy, that was like opening Pandora’s box. I found out that I buy new shampoo, shower gel, mouthwash or whatever it may be, when I actually already have 3 in the cupboard. I also deep cleaned my make-up brushes and found approximately 17 hair bobbles despite complaining on almost a daily basis that I “don’t have any”. And weirdly one of the most satisfying jobs for the weekend was sharpening all of my eye-liner and lip-liner pencils. I don’t think I’ve ever had them all perfectly sharpened at the same time (don’t judge a girl for getting excited over something so trivial, it’s tough times trying to entertain yourself indoors for so long).

I know fine well that as soon as life goes back to normal, I’ll likely go back to being chaotic, but at least for the next few weeks while I’m “quarantined” at home I can be content with my new found love for organisation (“A Little Bit About Lockdown” seemed a bit of an extreme title for the post).

Stay home if possible and stay safe everyone!

A Little Bit About…Driving

I have a love hate relationship with driving, and cars in general I guess.  Yet despite being a stickler for mixing up 1st gear and reverse when sitting at traffic lights (oops), I somehow managed to pass my driving test first time around at the ripe young age of 17. It seemed to go downhill quickly from there though (both figuratively and literally).

Exhibit A: having just passed my driving test, I eagerly drove my mum home from the local shopping centre one night. With me driving, and my mum in the passenger seat, we stopped at a set of traffic lights. When they eventually turned to green, I stalled the car and couldn’t get it started again in time to go before they turned back to red. You could cut the road rage tension with a knife, all the cars behind us clearly frustrated, cursing and swearing at me for holding them up. A good few minutes passed and the lights remained at red, we waited and waited. Five minutes passed, five whole minutes…and the lights remained at red. People started honking their horns, my mum and I in a whirlwind of exasperation, embarrassment and confusion. Eventually (and to this day, I’m still not even sure why we thought it would be a good idea), we decided in a state of panic that my mum should get out of the car and press the button at the pedestrian crossing. I guess our logic was similar to that of the “turn it off and back on again” mentality, whereby when something breaks down or gets blocked, pressing the button would kick-start it again. But you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to guess what happened next… As soon as she hit the button, the lights turned to green and off I sped…without her. For a split second, I was so proud of myself for shooting off and freeing the disgruntled queue of cars behind me. Then I took a quick glance in my mirror and saw my poor mum standing waving her arms in the air in disbelief. I pulled in at the next available turning, and waited on her running up the side of the dual carriage way, I’m surprised fume wasn’t coming out of her ears. I felt awful! And unfortunately I can’t say it was an isolated incident of me doing something ridiculous…onto exhibit B!

An old boyfriend and I decided to take a day trip one Sunday to a place about an hour away. Without thinking twice, I parked my car in a multi-story car park and off we went for a bite to eat and to explore. Little did we know that the car park closed early on a Sunday, so when we ventured back to get the car at 7pm, it was completely closed. We had no other choice but to phone my mum and dad to come and rescue us! They had to come all the way to pick us up, take us home, then do the round trip once again the following day to pick the car back up…and pay the overnight parking ticket (thanks for coming to my rescue for the 128926th time mum and dad!).

Now exhibit C doesn’t actually involve me driving, but it involves being in my friend’s car, and surely it’s only fair for these ridiculous things to happen to someone else once and a while too? Years ago, a few of the girls decided we would go to the seaside for the day to celebreate my friend just recently passing her driving test and getting a car. ROADTRIP! But…we got half way there and we got a flat tire. We ended up having to abandon the car at the side of the motorway and get a ride home with her sister who worked nearby. My friend and her dad then headed back down later that afternoon to change the tyre. But guess what happened? They drove all the way there that evening…only for her to forget the car keys!

So all of that being said, if you and I ever have to go somewhere together, I highly recommend we get public transport or you offer to drive yourself 🙂

A Little Bit About…Expectations

Expectations are a funny thing. We sub-consciously combine what we think might happen with what we hope will (or will not) happen, leading each and every one of us to anticipate something completely different. One hundred people could be going to the same event, yet every single one would be expecting something slightly different. It’s an unwritten rule isn’t it? Expectations are the epitome of Murphy’s Law: if you have high expectations, you’re bound to be disappointed. Does that mean that the opposite also applies? If you go into something with little to no expectation, does it pleasantly surprise you? I’m absolutely not saying we should therefore be all doom and gloom in the hope that things actually turn out better, it’s simply an observation.

Here are a couple of trivial, but perfect examples of how expectations accumulate, then turn out differently.

Recently, I took the same flight which I’ve taken a million times before. I normally wouldn’t think twice. But I had been suffering from back pain, so I was dreading having to sit in the one position for 3 hours straight. And considering the take-off time was 11am, I was only 4 hours into my day and hadn’t exactly tired myself out enough to sleep through the uncomfortable-ness (that’s a word, right?). Anyway, I got on the plane, checked my seat number and BAM, 31E. The back row, the middle seat. Ew! Worst row, worst seat. I sat down, wedged in-between two people and put my headphones in, hoping my array of Spotify downloads was enough to keep me entertained for the next 180 minutes. However, turned out the medication I was taking for my sore back kicked in; before I knew it, we were landing and here I was waking up from the best nap ever (for any Friends fans, it would have given Ross and Joey’s nap a run for its money). Low expectations, excellent end result (for those of you who don’t value a good nap and therefore don’t appreciate how good of an end result that is, you need to rethink things).

Contrastingly, my mum, my cousin and I all suffer from a thing called “get-too-excited-as-if-we’re-still-5-years-old-and-end-up-with-a-migraine-instead”-itis. What does this complex ailment consist of I hear you ask? I mean I’m sure there’s some kind of medical explanation involving excitement as a trigger and chemicals being released into our brains and blah blah blah, but since my medical knowledge extends as far as “stick a plaster on it” or “take a paracetamol”, I’ll stick to the layman’s description: it means we get so animated on the lead up to holidays, family reunions, parties or any other similarly exciting event, that we end up with a blinding headache. High expectations, disappointing (and sore) result.

Maybe the solution lies in removing our expectations altogether, or at least neutralising them. Maybe expectations are the result of overthinking at its best. Maybe I’ve gotten too in my head with this whole topic that I’ve gone and accidentally set such high expectations in my mind of how to end this blog post that now no ending I come up with seems good enough…

A Little Bit About…The Colour Yellow

There’s always something you forget when you’re going on a trip, isn’t there? Recently, I forgot my headphones – not the worst case scenario, but frustrating nonetheless. On the hunt for some new ones in the limited array of airport shops (side note – why do I always browse airport shops as if there’s going to be something brand new and exciting, something that’s not the same standard WH Smith or Boots you get at almost every airport across the UK?), I got side tracked and decided to buy a book instead. Those that know me, know that my first choice of entertainment would never be a book. Cosmopolitan magazine at a push, but never a book. Even with hindsight, I can’t really tell you why I decided to buy it other than one small fact: that it was yellow. The cover stood out immediately. Then, when I looked closer, it was called “The Yellow World”. It looks yellow AND it’s called yellow, sold! Why? No idea. Good to know I’m a complex individual isn’t it….?

Since going off on a tangent is one my (not so) many talents, this then made me think about what the colour yellow meant to me. Funnily enough, something I hadn’t ever thought about, because, well, why would I. I’m aware there are a multitude of studies and theories about what certain colours make us think and feel and why, so without attempting to pen a ground-breaking theory on colour psychology and buyer behaviour all because a yellow book cover convinced me to buy it, here’s what comes to my mind when I think of the colour yellow:

1) Sun – no explanation necessary (again, a great demonstration of how advanced I am as a human being….yellow sun, blue sky, green grass. The depth of my personality really is astounding, isn’t it?)

2) Spain – Spain holds such a big place in my heart as I have so many fond memories there over the years, I’ll forever feel part of me is at home when I see the red and yellow flag

3) Sunny D – remember that “fruit juice” we used to convince our parents was good for us? In hindsight that ghastly luminous colour probably turned our insides yellow but boy oh boy did it taste good!

4) My Personal Trainer’s shoes – because luminous yellow trainers hurt my eyes in the gym at 6am every morning

5) Cheese – this one cuts me deep, real deep! I used to put cheese on EVERYTHING, there was nothing that didn’t taste better without some cheese. Then I found out my severe headaches and migraines were due to a lactose intolerance so adios cheese for me!

6) McDonalds – seeing those golden arches at 3am on the way home from a night out, when the taxi ride feels like a never ending rollercoaster

In summary…nothing particularly profound or insightful. So who knows what the meaning is behind me buying it beyond it being bright and shiny!

Anyway, now back to the book. I hadn’t read anything by this author before (I hadn’t read anything in ages to be perfectly honest) yet strangely, he had me hooked almost instantly. The author himself overcame a long battle with cancer throughout his adolescence, and albeit many of the stories in the book are related to his experiences during that period, the book isn’t only relatable to people who have been through a similar circumstance. In fact, it’s about small, everyday lessons he has learnt over the years and how they can change our day to day lives. The “yellow” reference throughout the book is about certain people that come into your life: the right people at the right place at the right time. They might not stay for long (or forever), they might not even seem important at the time, but their impact – no matter just how big or small – resonates with you forever. When I read that, suddenly I started thinking of all the “yellows” in my life throughout the years. And by that I mean the actual people, not just the many, many, many (MANY) McDonald’s and Sunny D’s I’ve had.

Conclusion? I’m a lucky girl. I’m surrounded by yellows. Recommendation? Think about your own yellows, and if you fancy, grab a copy of the book

A Little Bit About…Blazers

Within a month of me starting my first proper office job, two other girls roughly the same age as me started too. Naturally, we started to become friendly, go to lunch together, grab a coffee together at break time etc. As with any new job, there were stupid questions galore and copious amounts of ridiculous situations we got ourselves into, particularly being the youngest three in the department.

After a while, we made a WhatsApp group to keep in touch, and discuss everything from the latest office gossip to what time we should get the train at to get to the department away day that week. Said WhatsApp group was named “Should I wear a blazer?”. Why? Because finding our way through our first ever “grown-up” job taught us a very valuable lesson, and made us realise that the answer to that question is always yes.

I have my interview tomorrow and don’t know what to wear, should I wear a blazer? Yes.

I have a presentation to do in front of the company management team tomorrow, should I wear a blazer? Yes.

The dress code for tomorrow’s conference is smart casual and I was going to wear jeans, but should I wear a blazer? Yes.

I’m going out tomorrow night straight from work and don’t know what to wear, should I wear a blazer? Yes.

What to some people may appear to be a simple £34.99 navy blue blazer from H&M, became a suit of armour, an invisible cloak of confidence to the three of us (okay that’s maybe a bit melodramatic, but you get the picture). Seriously though, what a handy piece of clothing! Think about it: smart enough to wear with a dress and heels, and make an outfit look more formal, yet casual enough to wear with a pair of jeans and boots. PLUS, they good on both men AND women. Talk about versatile!

I do have to admit though, my relationship with blazers wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows. Thinking back to primary school, it gives me shivers remembering the fuzzy purple material my blazer was made of. And the fact that I had the exact same one for 3 years didn’t help – I had one year of looking like I was wearing my Dad’s jacket, one year where it fit just right then one year where it was gradually getting too small but “would still do”, meaning I had to work the cropped look as best I could until the end of my third year. The Goldilocks and Three Bears of blazers.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am no fashionista. In fact it’s quite the opposite, for as long as I can remember there’s been a running joke in my friend group that I’m the one with the bad fashion sense. But that says it all, if even I can appreciate blazers, everyone should. As I look out my various outfits to wear to work for the week*, I can’t help but think the world should appreciate the blazer a whole lot more.

*Just to be clear, I don’t normally look out my outfits for the week ahead, I’m never that organised. Just so happened that today I discovered that if you don’t spend all day Sunday hungover and feeling sorry for yourself, you can actually be very productive – who knew!

A Little Bit About…Perspective

You know the usual Friday morning office chat, where everyone arrives in a good mood since it’s almost the weekend, but no one quite has the energy to kick start those last 7 hours of work yet? It’s not the normal Monday, “how was your weekend?”, or the mid-week classics about “how the kids are doing” or “this great new gym class I went to last night”. It’s more reflective and philosophical than that, almost nonsensical. It could be anything from what 5 people, living or dead, you’d like to have dinner with, to what your chosen superpower would be. The trending topic the other week amongst me and my colleagues was what our lives would be like if we were best-selling authors, and what each of our books would be about, leading us to make millions (naturally!).

There was one girl who said she would write about refugee camps, as she (very admirably) volunteers in her spare time to help integrate refugees into society. She told us several stories about people she had worked with, where they had come from and where they were now. She spoke of how they considered her to be “rich”, not because of what she earned, but because she was fortunate. Fortunate enough to have family, friends, a happy upbringing, an education, a society which encouraged her values and freedom. Those experiences made her the richest person one could hope to be in their eyes.

We chatted about how a story like that really gives you some perspective on life. Every single day we moan about meaningless “first world problems”, forgetting that there are much more serious problems going on in the world (or perhaps pretending they don’t exist). So, we made a pact, in which we’d try to keep the bigger picture in mind, and not let the stress of our day to day work overwhelm us. We vowed to always take a deep breath, not to snap at each other under times of pressure and to help each other out as much as possible as colleagues. Because at the end of the day, we ARE very fortunate.

Ironically, about 7 minutes after our conversation ended, the very same girl who told us the story went storming off in a stressed out frenzy because of yet another urgent email demanding something budget-y and excel spreadsheet-y. Then 5 minutes after that, I was moaning about how many meetings I had that afternoon meaning I wouldn’t get to eat lunch until later.

So turns out that’s the thing about perspective: the goal isn’t to have it, but to have it and keep it (for more than 7 minutes at least…).

A Little Bit About…Hot Dogs

We all have our guilty pleasures when it comes to snacking, right? Please say yes and make me feel less guilty about my all too frequent snack attacks! Weirdly, after eating it 3 times a week at the tapas bar beneath my flat on my year abroad in Spain, one of my favourites is chopped-up hot dogs in a spicy bravas tomato sauce. I know what you’re thinking, classy, right? So why are hotdogs this week’s topic of choice? Well I recently had that exact dish (if you can even classify it as a dish) for dinner two nights in a row as I was feeling really under the weather, like I had the flu coming on, and was craving the strangest home comforts.

Now fast forward a few days later, when I did in fact have the flu, and I woke up with red blotches all over my chest (which believe it or not turned out to simply be a heat rash after falling asleep hugging my hot water bottle). But naturally, my first instinct was to Google it. Bad move! As we’ve all done at some point, a perfectly innocent Google search of symptoms somehow snowballs – you click from one page to another, read certain articles which casually mention something else it may be, so you continue your Internet deep dive and before you know it, you’ve wasted 15 minutes reading stuff you know nothing about yet somehow believe it now qualifies you to have a degree in Medicine and diagnose yourself.

My Google search thought process went like this:

· I typed in “rash on chest”

· Read the first few titles and thought “Oh, should have known, can hear my Mum’s voice in my head telling me to hold a glass against it to check if it’s meningitis”

· Then I thought “I knew I should have bought the plain tumblers instead of the ones with flamingos all over them, I can’t see a thing through this glass. I’ll check the other symptoms of meningitis just in case”

· “Hmm, I guess I do have a few of those now that I’m reading it…”

· “Nooo, stop being irrational. How would you even have gotten meningitis? Let’s check the common causes”

· “Viral, blah blah blah, some common food contain bacteria, including soft cheese and….HOT DOGS”

· THOSE STUPID CHOPPED-UP HOT DOGS HAVE GIVEN ME MENINGITIS!!!!!!

It sounds ridiculous doesn’t it? After 5 minutes of severe panicking, I decided to let the logical part of my brain take over and settle on the fact I had a simple case of the flu, and the redness on my chest (which at this point was 90% away I must add) was in fact caused by the hot water bottle.

I was chatting to a friend of mine later that day on WhatsApp and told her about my 15 minutes of madness. She replied with several laughing emojis and said that if it made me feel any better, she had panic-Googled “the menopause in your 20s” earlier that day because she had felt what she could only describe as “hot flushes”, when in actual fact it was all because she had put her heating up too high by accident.

Lessons to be learnt?

1. If you think there is something actually wrong, you should go see a Doctor and definitely should not Google what’s wrong with you, then pretend like you’re a series regular on Grey’s Anatomy.

2. We all let the illogical side take over now and again, so don’t worry, you’re not alone!

3. Chopped-up hot dogs in a spicy tomato sauce is a weird, yet wonderful snack

A Little Bit About…Balance

On paper, I have my life together. At 28 years old, I own my own flat, go to the gym twice a week, speak a foreign language, have a plethora of straight As from school back in the day, seem to be doing fairly well professionally AND just successfully used plethora in a sentence. Funny thing is though, life happens in 3D and not just on paper (or Instagram for that matter).

Do I own a nice 2 bedroom flat? Yes. But 90% of the time it genuinely looks like I’ve been robbed. And admittedly the only reason it’s decent the other 10% of the time is because my mum is coming to visit me.

Do I like to get up at 6am to go to the gym before work? Yes. But last night I had an entire packet of biscuits and a can of Coke for dinner. It’s called damage control, ok?

Can I speak Spanish? Yes. But that’s largely due to an obscene crush on Enrique Iglesias growing up, which somehow escalated into years of studying grammar and vocabulary. So much for him being my Hero.

Do I have a ridiculously squeaky clean academic record? Yes. But I can count on one hand the number of books I’ve read since the age of 18. I was such a geek up until that age that even now, the thought of reading for pleasure sends me to sleep. And just FYI, apparently Cosmopolitan magazine doesn’t make a good impression when you’re asked at a fancy dinner party or work event what your latest read was. Who knew!

Am I “going places” in work? I’d like to think so. But that doesn’t stop me feeling like a fish out of water at least 10 times a day.

Long story short, I have lots of ducks in my pond but they are most certainly not in a row. And do you know what? That’s ok! That’s what makes us human after all.

I could speak publicly in front of hundreds of people and stay relatively calm. Yet put me in front of a good looking, well dressed guy and I somehow lose the ability to even remember my own name.

I could blow 100s of pounds on a new outfit and spend hours on hair and make-up. Yet the minute I walk out the door, my tights would rip and a gust of wind would blow my hair all over my face.

I’m THAT girl. But in the end, I reckon most of us are.

Conclusion? Be a hot mess AND an absolute boss. Be a fitness freak AND have the ability to shamelessly eat an entire pizza to yourself. Be a geek AND be daft enough to have to Google how long it takes to boil an egg. Be the go-to expert in work AND forget your laptop password every Monday morning.

It’s called BALANCE!