When Becca was still new, we went to quite a few groups. We went to the breastfeeding group at the local SureStart almost every week, we went to Baby Start regularly, we took a baby massage class and did a term of Baby Sensory. I took a Buggyfit course, and we have attended Waterbabies since 8 weeks. I tried a couple of the local Netmums meet ups, but didn’t really click with anyone, and it was the same with our local play group. I really enjoyed getting out and having my week filled with little activities. Then, when Becca got to about 4 months old, I sort of fell out of love with them all. The breastfeeding group was lovely, and it was nice to go along and chat with other mums and have a cup of tea, but then Becca was almost the oldest there, and ladies started to disappear after a few sessions of talking about weaning. There was very much a feeling of doing your duty for X months, and then it was over. Talk of early weaning, because the baby was hungry, or top ups, because they wouldn’t settle. I couldn’t do the small talk, as I wasn’t planning to stop and I wasn’t concerned about being able to go out or have someone else feed her. I was just fine, and so I no longer fit in. The same pattern emerged across other baby groups. At Baby Sensory, I didn’t really bond with anyone. It was mostly older mums, in a relatively wealthy area. They didn’t seem to know how to talk to me or what to say. Sessions consisted of the same small talk every week, and I had nothing to say. Every week, the same old questions. Is she sleeping through yet? Oh you poor thing. Have you weaned her yet? That would help her sleep. How much milk does she have? Formula would help you know. It all seemed like a competition. Like we, as mothers, weren’t able to strike up a conversation that wasn’t about comparing baby statistics. It was depressing. It was baby top trumps, and because of our parenting choices, Becca always seemed to lose.

Becca ready and waiting for some people to arrive, at our second ever session.

I stopped going to everything, apart from our weekly Waterbabies session, by the time she was 6 months. I was lonely. I was desperate to meet some likeminded parents who would be happy to talk about baby led weaning, cosleeping and breastfeeding past six months. I was desperate to meet parents who wouldn’t suggest I just put her down, just give her a bottle, just stop doing whatever I was doing that wasn’t ‘normal’ and so was clearly wrong, just stop being me.

I messaged Niki, hopeful that she must know some group somewhere. Something, anything, to get me out of the house and meeting other parents. She didn’t. She said, perhaps jokingly, that we should set something up. I said yes, we should. So we did.

We spent the next month making grand plans, exchanging emails every day, phoning venues all over the city to try and find somewhere to hold our group. We hadn’t met in person until half way through the planning, but I already knew she was good people. It was amazing, to be quite honest, to meet someone ‘in the flesh’ who thought the same things as I did. Someone who I didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or upsetting them because they did something differently or what they would be saying about me after I left. I felt so comfortable talking to Niki, and it was so freeing.

Our group was started to allow parents who believe in an Attachment or natural approach to meet, to talk without competition or comparison, and to feel safe and not judged for their parenting choices. I think we have achieved that, although our group is still small and we only have one regular weekly member aside from Niki and I. As well as meeting Niki, I have made another good friend through the group, so I suppose in that sense it has already served it’s purpose. It is nice to get out at least once a week and feel that I am doing something good. It is nice to feel like we are there for people, if they want us. It is nice to get together with people who parent the way you parent, or even if they don’t, they are understanding about your choices. It’s nice to get together.

If you are in the Coventry or Warwickshire area and follow an Attachment or natural parenting style, please check out our website www.attachedparents.co.uk for more information about our group. We would love for you to come along and chat with us. We also have a cloth nappy library and an AP book library which we have at every group session.

This post was inspired by a blogging prompt from Nickie at Typecast to help raise awareness of CLIC Sargent’s Yummy Mummy week, which runs 10th to 18th March 2012.

Twitter #dosomethingyummy

 

 

Family is a tricky thing, isn’t it? It is something that everyone has in common, and yet something completely unique. No two families are the same. I bet it’s not easy to explain your family to someone new. Families are full of heartwarming stories and tall tales. Who means what to who, and where are they now? Who do you get one with, and who do you miss? Who are you close to, and what do they do? I love how complex and interesting our family ties can be. I love how our families can continuously surprise us.

They are such a big thing, families. All of these people who we are connected to, and often don’t even know. Those who we are connected to in ways we didn’t even realise. Things that go unsaid, others presuming you already know, and then one day you do and so much more makes sense. Learning of all that came before you, and the ripples that continue as time goes on. The intricate and delicate relationships that make up this group of people, bonded together.

There’s plenty of family to gain, too. The family that is gathered along the way through marriage, who soon feel like they were always there. New people marry in, bringing not just themselves but their own families too. The family of your partner, who welcome you with open arms, adding you into theirs. All of these people, family, all connected. Always growing. New babies are born, and in the future, their babies. The family net is cast wide. You meet people who know your people, find you are somehow related to others without ever realising. Someone, somewhere, often knows someone somewhere else.

Then there is the family that isn’t really family at all. Your chosen family. The dear friends who you can’t imagine life without. The aunts who aren’t really related, but you often forget that fact. They say you can’t choose your family, but we can, and often do. Family are those who you surround yourself with, those who are there for you no matter what, those who you look forward to spending time with, those who stand the test of time. Ask someone to explain their family to you and if they are lucky, they wouldn’t know where to start.

Best of all, there is the family you create. The person that you meet, who changes everything. The plans you make together. The life you make together. The life you make, together.

Family. It’s an amazing thing. A complicated, intriguing, exciting, frustrating, amazing, ever evolving and completely special thing.

This post was inspired by a blogging prompt from Nickie at Typecast to help raise awareness of CLIC Sargent’s Yummy Mummy week, which runs 10th to 18th March 2012.

Twitter #dosomethingyummy

When I met Dave, living together in a shared flat at University, I had no idea that just over 5 years later we would have a one year old daughter and be engaged to be married. He was a friend, a lovely one at that, and I loved him. I loved him, but not like that. Ew. Then, suddenly, I did. I knew that this was different, and I knew I didn’t ever want him to go away. I’d have happily married him right away, but apparently that’s not cool.

I knew he would make a great dad. I was super excited for this future that I couldn’t wait to make with him.

I nagged.

We started trying for a baby. Probably mostly to shut me up. Let’s just say it didn’t take us long and then I was pregnant. Woah. It was awesome and exciting and totally scary and weird. Mostly scary exciting.

40 weeks and 4 days later, Rebecca was born. Woah. It was awesome and exciting and totally scary and weird. Mostly scary exciting. Also tiring, and a little bit gross.

What’s important, though, is that we had a baby. Our baby. We had made this tiny little baby and she was all ours. It was down to us. We had to take her home and keep her safe and love her. It was awesome and exciting and totally scary and weird. I mean, we were parents now. Shouldn’t we have had to take some kind of test for this? Surely we weren’t responsible enough to be parents. I guess we were, as we had decided we were going to be, and then we went and did it. And now she was here. And she was amazing.

She has changed her life like I could never imagine. I’m no idiot, I knew having a baby was going to be a life changing experience. I mean, you have a baby. Life changing. It’s one of those things, though, that you can never really imagine until it’s happened.

A year on from her birth, and I can’t imagine life without her. My life is all about her, caring for her and nurturing her and supporting her to grow into whoever she decides she wants to be. I can’t really remember what things were like before she was around. I am so used to her being here, I don’t know what I’d do if she wasn’t. That is possibly the scariest part. It scares the crap out of me that something could happen to our baby. To my baby. I guess that fear will always be with me, even when she is all grown up with a family of her own. I will always worry about her, because that is my job. I just hope that I never have anything much to worry over.

This post was inspired by a blogging prompt from Nickie at Typecast to help raise awareness of CLIC Sargent’s Yummy Mummy week, which runs 10th to 18th March 2012.

Twitter #dosomethingyummy

The best thing about our new house is the space. More rooms mean more space. More space means less stress. It is so nice having space to play, space to put the toys away, space to sit without looking at piles of stuff, space to walk without tripping over, space to crawl without bumping into things. Space to breathe.

The second best thing about our new house is the light. Our old house didn’t get much light in the living room, so it always felt a little gloomy even on the brightest of days. The new house gets so much light. As we are on a hill, and have three floors, the living room gets quite a view and, as a result, a lot of light. I didn’t fully appreciate until now what a little bit of sunlight can do for your mood. Of course, ask me again in the summer how I like all the light, when I am sweating from the sun streaming in. For now though, I like it a lot.

Know what else I like? Carpets. I didn’t think I would, as I’m a wooden floors kind of person, but oh my. Carpets are where it’s at. Being comfortable, and warm, when playing on the floor is a good thing.

Being higher up also means there’s more to look at. I can nose at people right from my living room window. I can look out over a lot of back gardens, while our own back garden is only overlooked by our two neighbours. Bonus. I can see far into the distance. There’s some hills and some lights. It’s nice though. Sunset is pretty awesome.

But yeah. The space. The space is ace. Space to play. Space to live.

The day after the first birthday came the first birthday party. It was, if I’m honest, a little bit surreal. I had a baby, and that baby was one, and now her baby friends were coming over to have a party. I felt like there must be some other adult in charge, as it couldn’t possibly be me. Only, it was me. I guess I’m a parent, or something?

We were up late into the night preparing the food and getting the house ready. We got up early too, and I dashed to the post depot to collect some parcels before more party prep. The cavalry arrived at lunch time, and Alice & Alex did a marvellous job of hanging the bunting (what dip!) while Dave’s Dad and Sister blew up many, many helium balloons (and created a couple of fantastic balloon rainbows for me). It all came together brilliantly. In case you couldn’t guess, there was a bit of a rainbow theme.

During the week Becca had helped me to gather up all of her ‘rainbow’ coloured toys, which were in a basket in the playroom, along with the colourful wooden blocks and megablocks. The kids had a good run around, getting in to everything, while we waited for everyone to arrive. Then came the food. I suddenly realised I hadn’t eaten all day and I was faced with a wall of cakes.

The rainbow birthday cake, plus mini party rings and chocolate covered marshmallows, dipped in sprinkles.

We also had a selection of sandwiches, breadsticks & dips, a rainbow fruit platter and a rainbow vegetable platter. I’d made little tags for everything in photoshop and printed them out.

The sweet treats were rainbow cupcakes (all the different coloured cake batters layered together) and ice cream cone cupcakes made by my mum.

I took a close up of the totally awesome rainbow fruit platter, because I was seriously proud of it, but I have no idea what happened to it. I think it’s on another memory card. I guess it’s now a long lost memory card. It’s probably in the same place as my debit card, which disappeared this week without a trace after doing some online banking.. anyway.. back to the story..

We had just enough highchairs to go around. Becca had her first date, sharing a highchair tray with her baby buddy William. It was very sweet, and they even played a little footsie!

Singing Happy Birthday.

Of course, there were more presents..

Plus more general adorableness..

I think it was a pretty good party.

On the 6th of January, our baby girl turned ONE YEAR OLD. Um, what? That can’t be possible. She’s just new, our little tiny baby girl, all new and cute and needy and cute.  Oh wait, she’s crawling about and climbing on everything and dancing to every little tune. She’s not a tiny baby anymore. I’d be sad, if it wasn’t so totally awesome. One year olds rock!

Her birthday was a friday, and Dave had taken the day of work, so we got up late and then opened a bunch of presents. It seems like all we have done lately is open presents. I’m not knocking it.. but it’s going to be a long 12 months until the next lot! Pretty poor planning on our part, sorry kid.

Her ‘main’ present was a fantastic Grimms XL Rainbow, which I – I mean we – have already had a lot of fun with.

After presents we took a mini road trip to a soft play centre in Banbury, Rugrats and Half Pints. She loved it, and it’s the first time she’s really been to somewhere like that. We had a bit of lunch and then she had a great time crawling around and exploring all of the tunnels and lights in the baby area. We had a little go in the ball pit too, and she looked pretty funny trying to crawl on top of the balls, ending up just sliding along on top of them. Dave and I had a pretty ace time too. It’s got to be one of the perks of having kids, that you get the excuse to go in the giant soft play centres. As Dave said while we were there, they should do ones for adults, they’re so much fun!

We had a great time, worth the long drive to get there. Rugrats and Half Pints is a lovely soft play, with a really good separate baby area which a lot of soft play centres are lacking. It has nice sensory equipment as well as the expected.. uh.. soft bits. The food was pretty tasty too! I got her a couple of helium balloons to celebrate with but sadly one of them didn’t even make it home (the jury is still out on what happened, but rumour is she was trying out her new 4th tooth and got a little over enthusiastic).

Here she is at exactly one year old.. looking pretty grumpy on the drive home.

We lit her birthday ring after dinner, and talked about her year and all the amazing things she’s done so far. It was nice to think back and reflect on just how much she has grown in one year. It amazes me, utterly amazes me, that in just one year you can go from newborn baby to the baby we have now, the complete little character that we love sharing our lives with. She is a little person already, a little individual with such a personality. It’s been a pleasure sharing my last year with her, taking care of her and watching her grow. I can’t wait for what the next year will bring.

If you missed it in my last post – I am now engaged. After 18 lovely days of being engaged, I decided to tentatively delve into the crazy world of wedding planning. Woah.

Now, I am a girl who has always wanted to be a wife. Life ambitions, when asked, were to get married and have kids, and raise those kids and look after that man. Whilst baking pretty cakes and having other mums over for tea and looking completely immaculate. Or something like that. Perhaps I was born in the wrong era.

I also have a bit of a thing for wedding blogs. I have been reading A Practical Wedding since Meg was still in the early stages of planning her own wedding. [Brides-to-be - if you don't already have APW in your feed reader, go subscribe right now. And then buy the book. You won't regret it. I love it so much, I'm advertising it in my sidebar for free.] I also go through phases of subscribing to the other wedding blogs. You know, the wedding porn. The post after post of beautiful, amazing, fabulous weddings type blogs. Then I delete them, because I’m not engaged yet and I feel sorry for myself. Then I re-subscribe because I miss having the omgsobeautifulweddingporn in my life.

With this in mind, you may think you can imagine exactly the kind of bride I would be. I’d want the big white princess dress, the tiara, and the mismatched but still totally coordinated bridesmaids in our wedding colours. We would arrive in the posh car (if not horse and carriage, why not eh?) at some lovely stately home, or maybe even a church. I would walk down the aisle to something classical played on strings, going on to a champagne reception I’d want to have a three course sit down meal, while everyone admires the beautiful table decorations I made myself, to really put some of our personality into the day, followed by more drinks and toasts. We would cut the three tier fruit cake with the cute little topper and then have our first dance while everyone snaps away, and we’d dance on into the night before being waved off on honeymoon.

Right?

Erm, well.. no. Actually, not at all.

I love weddings. I love wedding blogs. I love tv shows about weddings. I love seeing the beautiful princess dresses swooshing about, and the brides looking beautiful, and the gorgeous venues. I love looking at their sweet decorations and their colour schemes and what they’ve put the bridesmaids in. I especially love the look on the grooms face as he turns to see his bride for the first time that day, as she walks down the aisle towards him.

Only, I don’t want any of that. It’s amazing, and it’s beautiful, and it’s wonderful, but it’s not me – and it’s certainly not us.

We had already planned our dream wedding, long before we got engaged. Yes, we planned it. As a wise bride said in the A Practical Wedding book, “the wedding is not a surprise party for the groom”. Now that we are engaged, we are sticking to our plan, because it is what we wanted long before there was a budget, or a timeline, or a ring on my finger, and I think that makes it more real. Our day will be our day, and it will represent us as a couple and us as a family. It won’t be very expensive. It won’t be the best day of our lives (we already have a daughter, for goodness sake, what could be more amazing than that?) but it will be the best damn party we ever throw.

So, after those wonderful 18 days I thought I’d have a little google. I thought I’d see if I could find any ‘venues’ that would be a good fit for The Plan, that we could maybe take a look at in the coming months so that at least that important part was sorted. BIG mistake. A day later, I was already at breaking point. I was on edge, waiting for emails back from The Most Perfect Wedding Venue Ever, a venue that I already suspected we wouldn’t be able to afford, but I already wanted more than anything ever. We couldn’t afford it. Well, no, we could afford it, but there was no way I was prepared to pay for it. It’s one day, people. An hour later and there’s already another Most Perfect Wedding Venue Ever (That’s Even More Perfect Than The Last). I feel sick waiting for an email, a phone call. They reply. It sounds great. It sounds perfect, intact. Only.. we have to wait until April to go and see it.

I continue to plan for The Most Perfect Wedding Venue Ever (v.2) because I just can’t help myself. I’m in it, now. I’m in the crazy wedding space. We’re deliberating over a guest list, I’m googling vendors for chair hire and other essentials. I’m making a budget. The photographer is all but booked, pending our visit to TMPWVE.2 in April.

It’s been three days guys. This is mental. It’s been three days since I thought I would ‘have a little google’, which quickly led to a downward spiral of link hopping, while fretting that no such TMPWVE existed anywhere near us. I was frustrated. I was upset. I was a crazy person.

For a few hours.

Now I see. I see why that thing that happens to brides happens to brides. I see why people talk about ‘planning your wedding’ in the way that they do. We aren’t even really planning a wedding – there is very little that is ‘weddingy’ about it apart from that it is a wedding – we are more just planning a party, and yet I am still this crazy already. Good luck to the rest of you.

And yes, in case you were wondering, I have re-subscribed to the wedding blogs. It’s finally acceptable for me to be reading them, right? No way am I going to pass on all that wedding porn.

Our Christmas card this year.

Pretty late, I know, but I just wanted to make a little post about our first Christmas as a family of three. We had a lovely time. We stayed at home, our new home, just the three of us. We woke up late and opened presents, we had a nice relaxing time and I cooked dinner in the evening.

Oh, and Dave proposed.

Yeah. That was pretty exciting! After last years hormone induced pregnancy meltdown about the lack of anticipated proposal (for no real reason, just, y’know, I had got it in my head that it would happen because I was about to have a baby and all) I really really hadn’t been expecting it. I was simply looking forward to Becca’s first Christmas and the first Christmas in our new home, so it was a lovely surprise, and very sweet.

Here’s a bunch of pictures from our first Christmas as a family…

We went to see the Coca-Cola Christmas truck, to kick off our Christmasness..

Becca’s first visit to Father Christmas..



Um.. yeah.. she didn’t like him much..

Christmas Eve, and our Christmas Elf, Eddie Bauble-Cracker, went back to the North Pole..

We were very lucky, and Santa certainly came to visit us in the night..

Christmas morning, and we waited eagerly for lazybones Becca to wake up so that we could open our stockings..

Before heading downstairs for a lot more Christmas fun..

It’s safe to say we were buried under a very generous mountain of gifts..

While the kids played with their new toys (yes, that’s Dave and Becca) I cooked our meal..

Of course there was pudding..

..and that was our Christmas!

I am quite excited about 2012.

I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions. I don’t really see the point in them. I suppose I can see how the new year gives people an extra reason to try and change, but I think that resolving to start your next great plan on the 1st of January just sets you up for failure. If you want to change, you can promise it at any time. If you want to start exercising, it’s probably an easier promise to make in the spring than in the dark of winter. If you want to start eating better, it’s probably an easier promise to make once the sweet treats of Christmas and New Year have finally been finished.

The end of 2011 was hard. Not horribly hard, but exhaustively hard. You may have noticed, from the distinct lack of posts, but I was rather busy. At the start of September we went on holiday with Dave’s family, for a week in the South of France. When we returned, after a very generous offer from my Mum, we started looking at houses towards the end of September. On the 1st of October we put down a reservation deposit on our brand new house. From then on, 2011 consisted of a lot of phone calls, researching, planning, organising, list making, packing, moving, cleaning, unpacking and rearranging, all while trying to keep Becca entertained, and with Christmas preparations thrown into the mix too. Moving with a baby under 1 is very strongly not recommended by this mama. During this time Becca got her first tooth, followed by her second and third, which made her rather clingy and not very happy. She also had her first real cold.

October and November are a complete blur, as is much of December. We moved in on the 9th of December. The decorations went up on the 10th, and I spent the next week and a half finishing off moving things over from the old house, cleaning it top to bottom, and unpacking at the new house. Then it was Christmas. Then it was New Year. Then it was Becca’s 1st Birthday. I feel like I haven’t sat down in 3 months. There has always been something else I should be doing. There still is, really, as there are still boxes to unpack and things to organise, but we have everything we really need now so there is certainly nothing pressing.

I am quite excited about 2012.

For once, the new year really does feel like a fresh start. We have a new home, our first ‘real’ home, one that we can settle into, taking root, making it our own. We are in a new town, new places to explore and new friends to find. This is a fresh start, of sorts. A fresh start for us as a family, and for us as individuals.

I am quite excited to be a parent.

Yes, I am already a parent. It’s been just over a year since Rebecca was born, and we became parents. She turned one last week, and this coming year for her is going to be so very different to the last. She is going to grow so much, learning new things and having new experiences every day. I finally get the chance to really parent her, as the first year consists more of nurturing and caring and doing things for her as she is so dependant on me, but she is now gaining more independence with every day. I can now begin to step back a little and watch her grow, being there to guide her and support her rather than do everything for her. That, in itself, is so very exciting. I look forward to the spring, and exploring the new outdoor spaces around our new home. I look forward to the summer, and playing out in our new garden (we have a lawn! finally! I have longed for a lawn for this very reason), and watching her through the patio doors from our kitchen. I look forward to finding new groups to go to, and meeting new people and hopefully making some friends along the way. I look forward to it all, and all the years to come.

I am quite excited to be a family.

Yes, again, we are already a family. Over the past month or so, Rebecca seems to have grown up. It suddenly feels like we have a toddler rather than a baby. She has her own character, she is her own person. I’ve always enjoyed taking her places and doing activities, but now it feels like she is beginning to participate in them with us. Going out with a baby in tow often felt like Dave and I were going out, and we were just bringing her with us. We would push her around the park and show her things and she would sit with us in a restaurant and we would entertain her. Now, it’s like she is part of the conversation, without actually being able to talk. She has her own little personality. She has likes and dislikes. Family outings really seem like family outings now, rather than just outings with a baby. We are becoming a team, and we all get a say of sorts. We are becoming a family, and that’s a very exciting thing.

I am quite excited to make a home.

At long last, we are finally homeowners. It still doesn’t feel that different. Yet. I still feel like I should be asking someones permission before making holes in the walls. It is very exciting, though, to be able to plan and discuss and think about how we will decorate, and what we will change and how we will make our home our home. We can personalise our home in more ways than just hanging a couple of pictures. We can make it fit our needs, and be exactly what we want. I love our home, more than I thought I would love a house, and it’s still all magnolia. The thought of something as simple as painting the walls is very exciting, as we get to really make the space ours, although for someone as indecisive as me these decisions can feel a little daunting!

I am quite excited to be me.

This has a danger of sounding a little like a resolution, but it really isn’t. It’s more just a change. This year, I am just being me. I really appreciate the comments my last post received, and you all really made me think about what it means to be me. I realised that all that stuff doesn’t really matter to me, I have just made it matter by thinking that it should. I have made it matter by thinking that if it doesn’t really matter to me then I’m somehow not a woman, that I’m not good enough or that everyone else will think something of me. I have realised that being me is actually pretty awesome. I like me, it turns out, even if I don’t know how to wear makeup or I don’t really know how to do my hair. I don’t really care if that makes people think any less of me. If it does, then they’re obviously not people I care about. The two most important people in my life love me exactly as I am, and that’s enough for me. So this year, I’m embracing my me-ness. I’m going to make an effort to feel good about who I am and be happy in myself. I already feel better for it.

Here’s to an exciting 2012.
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I have never been the type to really bother with making sure my hair is done nicely or my clothes are in style. I rarely wear makeup, and absolutely can’t imagine it being a daily necessity. Heck, most days I don’t even manage to shower. I wear glasses, not because I like them, but because I am too lazy to bother with contacts. My baby is scared of my hair dryer, and as a result my rather unruly, naturally curly, hair goes relatively untamed.

Reading this, you’ll likely assume I am a girl who doesn’t really care how she looks. You would be wrong.

Growing up I lived with my Dad, and I suppose I could be described as a tomboy. An only child, a girl, living with her Dad.. well, makeup and fashion tips were hardly going to be discussed while braiding our hair and putting on facemasks, or whatever other girly stuff I was led to believe everyone else was doing with their mums and sisters every night. In their pyjamas. Eating chocolates. The closest my Dad and I came to this fictional scene would probably be the day he cut my hair, using a bowl as a guide, then told me how awesome it was that I looked like a Beatle.

It’s safe to say I was never a popular kid.

For some reason, throughout life so far, I just haven’t gravitated towards particularly girly girls. I wouldn’t feel comfortable asking girl friends to talk to me about this sort of thing. I always thought it wasn’t the kind of thing you just brought up, without seeming like a bit of a loser, and it must just have been the sort of girly bonding thing that I obviously had missed out on at some point. I cared about clothes, though I think my sense of style as a teen was somewhat misguided (had a bit of a thing for French Connection v-neck sweaters in 6th form), and I REALLY cared about my hair (despite it’s utter shitness – every trip to the hairdressers would, without fail, end with me in tears, and they often still do). I just didn’t know how to do any of it ‘right’. A couple of times I have asked friends for tips, for help buying makeup, for a tutorial on how the hell to apply eyeliner, and I’ve felt like such a dick every time. Like I’d be laughed out of the girl club. Girls should know how to be girls, right? We should just know. I felt like I had missed out on some sort of secret code, like maybe my handbook was missing, lost in the post.

So here I am, approaching 25, and I still don’t know how to do my hair, how to apply makeup, or how to buy clothes that actually look good on me (if there is such a thing).

I still feel like a dick.

Asking a lady at a makeup counter to show you how to apply makeup, because at 24 you seriously haven’t got a fucking clue what you are doing in the slightest, feels only slightly more idiotic than asking a friend at 15/16/17/18. The looks of pity, however, feel a whole lot worse.

Almost everyone that I see, especially here in the blogging, tweeting, internet world, seems to know something I don’t. Maybe their girl manuals didn’t get lost in the post. I know blogs are all somewhat aspirational, so it’s hardly a fair guide, but I still feel like the little sad girl in the corner who doesn’t know how to do her hair. We all get to choose, in this internet world, what image we put out there for others to see, and we are likely to choose the most flattering angle/the best hair day/the cutest outfit. Look at my profile pictures on any of the many sites I belong to and I can garentee you they will be photos of me on a day where I have had to get dressed up and make a real effort, spent hours on my hair, applied a little bit of make up, or had a new haircut. They will be one of many photos that were taken, but one of the few I would have been semi-happy with, and then it will likely have been edited to within an inch of its life to make it all that more flattering. THEN I will be happy with it. I will allow it to represent me in my online identity. I will let it be the face that people see.

The rest of the time I am just me. I will have days old hair, pulled back into some messy ponytail/bun hybrid thing that I think looks decent until I see a photo of me from the side, I won’t have any makeup on, I will be wearing some unflattering, probably a few sizes too big (or maternity, because I’m still rocking some maternity wear 11 months on due to lack of decent wardrobe) clothes, and I will have bad skin. That is the real me.

I hate it.

I want to be you.

I want to be you, over there on your blog. You always look so good, with your sweet ‘no effort at all’ but still ‘done’ hairstyle, your cute outfit that all just goes and looks great on you and not at all the wrong size, your great skin (or is it just your great makeup? I can’t tell. It’s that great) and your just altogether perfect awesomeness of your totally wonderful life. That I want.

Only, it’s probably not, is it? You probably picked the best photo taken in the cleanest room with the most flattering light at a great angle, right? Then you probably removed a couple of blemishes, right? All while thinking “man, I wish I could look as cute as that girl over there on that blog/Flickr stream/random pinterest pin”. Right?

Or is it just me?

Those photos, by the way, to me they get progressively worse. In the first, I am half hiding in the shadows, at a wedding, I’m wearing a little makeup and I tried to tame my hair. This is an acceptable photo. In the second, it’s not too bad, but I’m not looking at the camera, not wearing any make up and likely didn’t brush my hair, and I’m smiling so my wonky teeth are on show. This is unlikely to get uploaded to facebook. In the final photo, it’s Mother’s Day and we have one for a walk in the park, I’m not wearing makeup, my skin is terrible, my hair is greasy and pulled back into a shoddy ponytail with random short bits sticking out, and I look fairly miserable. I’m suprised this wasn’t just deleted.