Again. But different.

Tomorrow at 4am I leave for the airport. Once there I will check in, probably browse Boots and other stores buying too much ibuprofen and maybe some preventative thrush tablets. I'll eat food I don't want and probably a coffee I won't drink before I board the plane to Sri Lanka via Doha.

It's been nearly a year since I last departed for Sri Lanka and 6 months since I've been back. I feel like many things have changed, yet most things haven't which is what I'm anticipating feeling in Sri Lanka and that is comforting. The places will hopefully feel more familiar, the food will be more delicious and the toilets won't be such a surprise. But there will be all new people. All new people to get to know, to look after and to worry about. All new fears for them and dreams they're achieving and times they just really want to fucking go home. All new hospital visits and infections, broken toes and lice. All new families and places to sleep and things to try to understand.

These are the reasons I love my job. No day is ever the same. I can never be bored and the times when I want to just kick something are the times when I achieve clarity and when I remember why I'm doing what I'm doing. Why they are doing what they are doing. I work with the best. I learn from the most skilled and compassionate people I've ever known. At times I feel like a total fraud. Like a psychopath who is learning how to pretend at emotion and trying to convince people that I'm really legit. Like I can be trusted. But the truth is I feel absolutely everything. I feel it in a way that my face can't convey and my mouth can't articulate, but I feel everything that happens and everything that I fear will happen and everything that doesn't happen. I worry all day and my sleep is fragmented with more worry and then I start another day of the same. Almost the same.

I wonder about Steve. How he'll be this time around and if he'll ever betray the veneer of perfectly fine, perfectly calm. I know his heart breaks a little and he probably has no idea that my rhythm is out of sync as well. The murmur which becomes much more of a groan is his. It's always more difficult for the one who stays behind. Who does all the stuff you do together, but alone. Who has no distractions except for the distraction of the empty bed, the lack of washing up. No more clothes I left in the basket for the wash that were actually already clean. Nothing to get annoyed about or to change the emotion he feels for me. Just the constant space until I can fill it again.

These months away from the UK will be jam-packed with crazy and laughter and fatigue. Each day will bleed into the next and before I understand that a month has just passed, it has. The melancholy doesn't last and the highs are really fucking high. I just hope that there's still space for me and that this time around will be some of what it was last time. Ideally I'd like a few less vagina punches, but I know that's asking a lot. I want smiles and challenges and plenty of sweaty hugs. I want tuk tuk drivers with neon smiles and sarees that require sunglasses to admire. I want plenty of EGB or I won't get any food and I want to shop at No Limit and buy something I might actually want to wear at home. But mostly I want it all to be OK and for everyone to have a beautiful, transformation time just like lat time. I want it all again. But different.

Woman writes blog in pants with no makeup.

This week saw me tie up some loose ends at work, get my huur did and, drink with two of my favorite women and get in one fantastic Facebook argument a la 9th grade. I was slightly ashamed of myself for indulging, but the topic I was fighting about is something I feel incredibly strongly about. I am super passionate as you may have noticed, and am not afraid to look like a dick in front of the kingdom of of Facebook (not really. I don't have that many friends) And all of you. After our debate came to a natural end I couldn't believe my luck when I found this listicle that so beautifully demonstrated what I was trying to say. I posted it on my Facebook page yesterday.
Go on. Have a look and I'll wait.

I adore The Vagenda and this exercise has cemented that love in a deeper place in my heart. Never afraid to tackle women's issues and be direct, it is one hell of a publication. What they are asking us to do here is to challenge the headlines that we see every day, that we find acceptable every day and see them for what they truly are, superficial, sexist bullshit that should not stand. Not one of the articles pictured is one I'd want to read. Every headline, no matter the actual subject includes a play-by-play about how each woman looks, what each woman is wearing or in poor Amy Adam's case, not wearing (makeup. GASP!) How is this fucking relevant?

Photo by: http://i226.photobucket.com/albums/dd296/casedawg230/stophatin.jpg

Answer: It's not, but we as a society have become so desensitized to this scrutiny that we are complicit in it, and by being complicit, we are propagating the idea that a woman's appearance is newsworthy. Now I'm not saying this can't happen to men. It does, but in a different way. Men are often sexualised in the media without context. Let's take Heat's Torso of the Week for example. Yikes. Total sexism there ladies and we are to blame.

Even in the articles I'm discussing, if you look at #2 there's Diet Coke's Hunk of the Week. Really, ladies? This is a thing? There is pressure on men to look great too, of course, but rare are the articles chastising men for leaving the house with a hair out of place. #5 would not be newsworthy if we were talking about Benedict Cumberbatch's nipples, but Rhianna's are worth reading about. We've all got them, people,and sometimes they like to play peek-a-boo. Stop being a pervert, watch the fucking game and get your eyes off my tits!

The most fucked up point to make here is that nearly all of these articles were written by women. I was asked a very interesting question earlier in the week which was 'can women be sexist to each other'? The answer is fuck yes. All this talk about 'shapely legs' #6 and 'enviable figure' #5 is fucking sexist. These authors might as well have been wolf-whistling as these celebs walked by as well as chronicling their physical attributes above all else.

It should not be important that Jennifer Garner has a nice rack under her frumpy shirt. Poor Clare Danes in #13 is just trying to go for a run, but the author comments on how she is displaying her body. Who doesn't run in leggings? Is this really fucking print worthy and why are we sexualising this woman when she is quite clearly doing nothing of a sexual nature? If these articles were written by men I believe more people would see the problem, but because it's us women-folk visiting these expectations and limitations on each other it often goes unnoticed.

Notice it. We as women are hard enough on ourselves, let's not be hard on other women too. Even if they are celebrities that we will most likely never meet. It's bullshit. The reason we are so hard on ourselves is because of all this vacuous nonsense flooding our brains and taking up space where our confidence and empathy should be.

I challenge you all to not pick up that US Magazine, or that Heat magazine. It's full of stories designed to make you hate on other women. And none of you are malicious. I know that, but it happens without us even knowing it. Read magazines that make you feel god about yourself. Myslexia or The Vagenda.

Let's change the conversation. Let's make it about who these women are, so we can be inspired in a positive, healthy way and not about how they look. I know that I as a woman would hate to think I was being judged in the same way. Let's cut this Mean Girls shit out and start being more supportive of each other.

Congratulations! You have piss poor judgement!

I hope my friend doesn't kill me for writing this, but it's been bothering me for days now. I actually sat up this morning and ran through all the possible options and came to the conclusion that there is no worse question to ask a woman than 'are you pregnant'? I thought of 'are those real'?  or 'are you on your period'? even the old high school throwback 'do you smell fish'? After careful consideration I decided that I would rather be asked those questions for eternity than have someone ask me even once 'are you pregnant'?

It is never ever fucking OK to ask a woman if she's pregnant. Ever. In fact, I find it hard to believe that in the history of the world anyone has ever thought that this was OK unless you're a god damned doctor, then you can ask away. What can possibly be gained by asking someone this highly personal question? And what are you insinuating with your query?

Photo by: http://imgur.com/C4Q2A

There are events in everyone's lives that are top of the tree in terms of personal importance. I myself am childless, but I imagine that being pregnant is one of them. I have friends and family members who planned for months how they were going to tell everyone the big news. Recently a video of a man finding out he's about to be a grandfather via a fortune cookie went viral and brought a tear to even my cynical eye. Most women I know believe it's bad luck to discuss a pregnancy before the first three months, so how the actual fuck someone has the big, bold vagina or testes to walk up to woman and ask her to divulge this, the innermost workings of her body, her biggest secret ever, her most joyous moment which is hers alone to share at the fucking water cooler floors me. I feel enraged that we are so invested in other women's bodies that we feel that to ask this is in any way acceptable.

Why are you asking me if I'm pregnant? What if I am? What does that have to do with you?
What if I'm not, but I've been trying for years and something isn't working? What if I recently miscarried or I just had an abortion? What if I'm still pregnant with my baby, but it has died and I still have to give birth to it because I'm too far gone. This is some dark shit, and it's shit I wouldn't want to discuss with some nosy-as-fuck work colleague. You have no business knowing. If I'm pregnant and I want you to know, you'll  know.

We are all allowed to put on a little weight if we want to, or if we don't. I don't want to have to worry that if I have a big lunch some idiot is going to assume I'm cultivating a fetus. It's just a curry. In the media today we are so fixated on other people's lives, other people's relationships and other people's wombs. It's not natural and it's unfair. Let's all try a little harder to focus on ourselves and our journey and let others do the same.

No good will ever come of asking someone this question. Their feelings will always be hurt and you will always look like an asshole. Wait it out, do not steal their moment. Let them tell you when they want to and how they want to. And if they never tell you and there is never any baby, you'll be so glad you never asked.

Size REALLY matters.

Yesterday I was searching the internet for information on Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred. This workout DVD is my saving grace before bikini season and the only thing besides Steve I've been able to remotely commit to. In my search I came across another blog: Nurselovesfarmer.com. heard of it? I hadn't, but now I'm a subscriber. This girl is adorable. But more important than her advice on disposable diapers, what I discovered on this woman's blog hit me in the face harder than that time I got jumped in 8th grade.What I found was this: See Sarah's photo here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/pediatricnurse/13202580774/

According to this beautiful woman I have the same measurements as her when she started her 30 day workout regime. Her. Exact. Measurements. Look at this
Bust: 37″
Natural waist: 30
Waist: 35″
Hips:  37.5″
Thigh: 21.5

Read more on Nurse Loves Farmer: http://www.nurselovesfarmer.com/2014/03/one-week-shred/

According to Sarah I should look just like her. Photos don't lie. But I look nothing like that. Do I?

I have body dysmorphic disorder. I am by all accounts mentally ill. Now don't hold the telethon just yet. I don't see it as a weakness. I am fully aware of my illness and although I don't completely understand it and can't ever beat it, I can live with it and my case is fairly mild. I don't suffer anxiety due to my appearance, but I do struggle day to day with how big or small I actually look. I genuinely can't tell.

So, what Sarah's blog revealed to me is that I might actually look she does and have no idea. I an see what she looks like, but I can't see what I do. Living with body dysmorphic disorder is never dull. One day you feel like you look too thin and the next you feel like you could grout your whole bathroom with the cellulite on your thighs. This is what went on in my head this morning in the shower: 'is that my arm? Fuck. It's enormous'. Every day what I see in the mirror is a surprise. For those of you who knew me in my 20's...why did you let me leave the house like that? I really needed a bra and a top with a back on it. Just a whole fucking top. Is that too much to ask?

The reason having this disorder is so damn tough is that clothing manufacturers do nothing to assist me in my quest to find my actual body size. In my closet right now I have jeans that are sized 10-14 (6-10 US). And the fucked up thing about this is they ALL fit! How is that possible?

Now I know those sizes are not for very big people, but I also have trousers size S-L. Is a size 10 (6 US) large? Am I a large person? I guess I am because I just ordered 3 swimsuits for my vacation all size L, but I wear a size 12 (8 US). How can I process this information? Sometimes I hold up jeans in front of the mirror to see if I think they look big. I lay them on my bed to see if the angle helps me to assess the size of them, but my perspective of the clothes isn't the problem it's my perspective of my body. In reality I have no idea whether I am fat or not and it doesn't help that I can't trust brands to be consistent with their sizing.

Talk about a first world problem, but it is a problem. And for someone like me it makes a big difference to how I feel about myself, as it's the only way I can measure how big I am since I genuinely can't see it. Clothing designers need to help us out. They need to standardize their sizing so we can all feel confident in our own skin. It doesn't feel good to buy those size 6 (10 UK) jeans in the US knowing that when I get them home to the UK they will measure as larger than my size 12 (UK 8) jeans. It's deceptive and it can be dangerous. For people like me who don't constantly check themselves, that size 6 may be enough to convince that person that they are a healthy weight and size, when in reality that size 6 has a 32 inch waist and should really be labeled as a size 10. I nearly passed out last Christmas when I had to ask the girl at Nordstrom Rack to get me a size 4. I am not a size 4, and the jeans I was swapping out were not a size 6.

It's a false economy to sell us pieces whose sizes are inconsistent and it makes shopping online nearly impossible. In a world where obesity is an epidemic, manufacturers need to start being more honest with consumers and we need to start being more honest with ourselves. As much as I'd like to be a size 6 I want to know that size is an accurate assessment of my measurements and not just a designers' ploy to sell more clothes. 

So we have a cat cafe now...

In 1998 someone in Taiwan had a brilliant idea: what if you could go to a cafe to drink hot beverages, eat pastries AND pet cats? What a wonderful thing that would be. And so it was that the world's first cat cafe opened in Taiwan in 1998. This Taiwanese Cat Cafe was incredibly popular amongst Taipei locals as well as Japanese tourists. These tourists must have seen the genius in this idea to capitalize on we, the petloving petless and today Japan now boasts 39 cat cafes. The most in the world, and now we all want one.

Europe has cat cafes in Vienna, Paris and now London. My city. I had been to the Le Cafe des Chats for a treat in Paris and was quite frankly underwhelmed. Cats are nocturnal creatures who are rarely affectionate to those with whom they are closest, let alone a bunch of coffee guzzling strangers all jonesing for a bit of lap action. Neverthless I still wanted to go. So we went. Upon entering we were greeted by a beautiful young French woman (are there any other kind)? She asked us to sterilize our hands before opening the door that might as well have led to the fountain of youth for the amount of people who were lined up outside. Once on the other side of the door Steve and I scanned the room for a seat, or a cat, whichever we could find first. Unfortunately we found neither, so we headed down the stairs into the basement.

The decor downstairs was twee and yet tasteful (French). We found a vacant table across from the kitchen and waited. We were on safari. We 'oooohed and aahhhhed' at anything that walked by our table at a certain eye level. I'm fairly sure I reached out to pet someone's toddler at one point. I was desperate for a little fur affection: a purr, a sniff, anything! After about ten minutes, the feeling of desperation faded into one of hunger and we ordered our lunch. The salad I had was delicious and it was thoroughly amusing to watch the cats as they wandered around freely while us idiots photographed them between bites as if they were rare and wild beasts.

Now for those of you who know me you know that the slightest sighting of fur reduces me to a blubbering, slobbering mess. It is a crime that I don't have a pet and I am exactly who these drop-in centers are designed for. It's like a shooting gallery for the lonely and leasing in the big city. Because of this addiction I had to go and visit London's latest venue promising cakes and company from its 11 feline residents. I can't blame these people. It's a great business model, but London has a lot to learn from Paris when it comes to cuisine. Obvs. Not only does Lady Dinah's Cat Emporium expect patrons to pay a £5 cover charge just for the privilege of walking through the door, but they also serve up pretty tasteless snacks and cakes which are a little overpriced.

The cats all seem well looked after and this is the most important thing, of course. Although most of them were too elusive or asleep for us to get much contact on our visit. But if you want to be an eatery, you need to serve food people want to eat. Upon leaving, a pleasant woman asked us how we found it and I remarked that it would be nice if they dressed the salad as that made up a large portion of my meal. I actually saw the lights turn on in her head when she replied 'that's a really good suggestion!' Surely dressing a salad is not a nouveau concept. She then stated 'we have some balsamic glaze banging around there somewhere. We should use it.' Woah.

I have high hopes that Lady Dinah's will get it together eventually. If not, there are plenty of other people who are surely lined up to do what they do, but better. I never thought I'd say this, but when you're paying £5 to get in and it's billed as a restaurant the cats just aren't enough.

I'm planning on having a really good time.

Recently I read another blog titled '10 Things No One Tells You About Planning Your Wedding'. After wasting 10 minutes of my life reading and then sneering at it, I was slightly in shock. I mean these are the things EVERYONE who is now divorced tells you about planning your wedding. Who are this girl's friends anyway? I think that all of these so-called 'secrets' are actually old bullshit. So I'd like to debunk a few of these myths and give you some handy tips as well. Her original statements are in bold.

1. It's not YOUR day- YES IT IS! When it comes to planning your wedding it is your damn day and you should get to invite who you want and wear a pink dress if that is your vision. If you have a groom who cares, get him involved of course, but every groom knows that the engagement is his time to shine and the wedding day is yours. Sexist? Outdated? Of course! But that's all part of the joy of the institute of marriage. Now this is not an excuse to be a bridezilla, but you get to choose what to eat, who to invite and what to wear. Anyone who tells you differently is an asshole. Don't invite them, even if it is your mother.

2.Your big day will cost more than a car- IT DOESN'T HAVE TO! If you have $30,000 to spend on something, really think about what you want that something to be. A single day for you and your nearest and dearest to get smashed on Cristal? Or a beautiful bungalow with a nice backyard? The choice is yours, but I say split the difference. Spend $15,000 on your wedding and the other $15,000 put aside for a down payment on your future home. My wedding cost a lot less than $4,000 and it was perfect. It is YOUR day remember. Inviting all those people you haven't seen since high school is an expense you don't need.

3. It's time to hit the ground running- STOP AND ENJOY YOUR ENGAGEMENT! The second he puts a ring on it you do not need to have the hall booked. Take your time and do your research. There are some incredibly cost-effective and beautiful original venues that won't be totally booked up five years in advance. Go for a yurt wedding, or hold the event at that old barn you've driven by on your way to work for five years. Use someone's back yard or elope. Planning a wedding the the nth degree is often what kills the vibe and makes you so stressed you forget to enjoy yourself on the day. Take your time and do what you want to do.

4. The DIY touches you pick to save money will be the most memorable- OK I KIND OF AGREE HERE BUT WILL STILL SHOUT! However, the DIY stuff doesn't have to be about saving money. Often beautiful bespoke touches make the day. I got all of my wedding decor on Etsy.com and it was really affordable. Reclaimed logs for candlesticks, dried wreaths for centerpieces, handmade bags of lavender with recipes for how to use it for favours and bouquets of dried hydrangeas for my bridesmaids were all DIY by someone on Etsy.com, and all helped to make the day look beautiful. Shop around, not everything has to cost a fortune.

5. The guest list will be more complicated than a Rubik's Cube- WHY? This does not have to be the case at all. Remember rule number one? It IS your day and people you want to celebrate with should be there. If your mom wants her whole mahjong brigade to come, ask why. What is the point of having 15 people you've never met taking up space at your wedding? She can show them the pictures or they can come to the reception. Your wedding day is stressful, why add to that by trying to remember the names of 50 people you've just met?

6. You will get addicted to Pintrest- THIS IS NOT A SURPRISE! Again, I don't know who this woman is hanging out with, but aren't we all already addicted to Pintrest? Who needs a damn wedding?

7. Dress shopping is essentially a sporting event- DRESS SHOPPING IS THE BEST PART! We're talking about planning the wedding here and this by far is the most enjoyable bit. It should be leisurely and fun and shared with all of your favorite people. If you make an appointment at a few boutiques it should be nothing like a sporting event. Whoever wrote the original article sure knew how to suck the fun out of everything.

8. Everyone will want to know when you are having a baby- THIS IS AFTER THE WEDDING! Not one person asked me about my baby plans while I was planning my wedding. It's just plain rude. Most people wait until the ink is dry on the certificate before they start probing you for questions about your vacant womb.

9. Your sense of rationality will go out the window- I GUESS THIS I HOW YOU SPENT $30,000 ON YOUR WEDDING! This is stereotypical bridezilla bullshit. A bunch of other people's rationality might go out the window, like your mom and her intent on inviting a bunch of randoms to one of the most important events of your life, or your friend who decides to bail on the food tasting so she can go on a date. But your rationality? It should be well and truly in the fucking window if you want this day to work.

10. None of this will matter at your wedding- OF COURSE IT WILL! If you are a soul-sucking Pintrest-mad monster that your other half fails to recognize on the big day, it will really fucking matter. Planning you wedding is supposed to be fun. Most people I know had a really good time planing theirs and an even better time on the actual day. If you want your betrothed to still want to marry you on the day try and relax a little and if you're not enjoying it, hire someone who will.

The evolving face of beauty

When I was a teenager I liked to read People magazine. I used to really enjoy celebrity gossip and features about 'real people' doing extraordinary things, but somewhere along the line People began to lose credibility for me and began to replicate the cheaper, less insightful publications like OK. The issues I looked forward to the least were the Sexiest Man issue and the 50 Most Beautiful Women issue. These superficial annual collections of who in Hollywood was the most visually appealing was disturbing to me, especially because it's the public who vote for the winners and as a result don't vote for those who don't make the cut.

I personally can't imagine what it's like for someone like Christina Applegate to be crowned Most Beautiful Woman, but get no recognition for her acting work. We should be moving away from a society where being pretty or being sexy is seen as a success. Poor Robert Pattinson. I've never herd anyone praising him for his films, but he was crowned Sexiest Man Alive. Is that something you can put on your CV? As much as I detest these beauty contests and feel that they are outdated and cruel, even I was proud to see Lupita Nyong'o on this years' cover.

I was so happy for her because this is a woman who has very publicly spoken out about how growing up she felt ugly because of her dark skin. Her speech at the 2013 Essence awards went viral and even though I was already in love with Patsy from 12 Years a Slave, after listening to Lupita speak, I was in love with Lupita as well. She eloquently articulated her struggle with her looks. How she never saw anyone who looked like her seen as beautiful. Well now Lupita will be that person for girls everywhere. With Lupita taking the crown and Mindy Kaling taking the number 4 spot, it's exciting to see beautiful women of color finally being acknowledged by People and by us as a nation.

With her short hair, perfect smile and flawless skin Lupita looks every inch the cover girl and we can see why she was given this title. But what makes me so happy about this is that she is so much more than her beauty. A Yale graduate and already and Oscar winner, she is showing young girls that you don't have to prioritize beauty over success and that if you work hard and educate yourself you'll be successful in far more than beauty contests.

Lupita is so much more than just a pretty face. But to have Lupita and Beyonce both on magazine covers this month means that a lot of little girls will see themselves reflected back at them instead of the usual stick-thin blonde haired white skinned prototype we've all become accustomed to associating with beauty; and although I'm still not happy with the concept of this issue I am excited about the result.