I really am getting a touch too addicted to Polyvore, and am forever damning my best friend for setting me on to it.
I cannot stop shouting random Black Books quotes at people, and hardly anybody gets it, it really is quite disappointing, although you do get some amazing looks when attempting to slip phrases such as 'I ate all your bees' in to the conversation.
P.S. I want to be a sailor...
Thursday, 30 July 2009
Tuesday, 28 July 2009
Sunday, 26 July 2009
Kings, Queens and Jelly Beans
Bee been concerned with dances-raindrops-postcards-holdinghands-jellybeans-cardgames-fairystories-thefuture-sparkles-ohwherehasthesummergone-toast-London-panic-naptime-him-and runningawayfromwasps.
I want to go live in a meadow. I want to have a tiny cottage, in the middle of a flower meadow, with a path and a stream and a bridge and a tree with a swing. I want floral wallpaper inside and a pastel kitchen and massive squashy chintzy arm chairs and a cat and flowers everywhere.
I want to have a career where i get to read whatever i want all day and not do much else. I want to bake cakes, go to village fetes and never ever ever ever ever wear jeans.
I think I could live without most technology - a diary could replace a blog, I barely watch television, the obsession with it confuses me, why watch TV when there are so many more worthwhile books out there?!
I could fill my house with old books, live amongst the heros and villains of the pages, take tea with Alice, have adventures with Don Quixote and contemplate moral issues with Raskolnikov.
Sometimes I worry I would almost too willingly relinquish all human contact for books, but then I remember him, and my girls, and I realise there are three people I could never give up.
I don't want to grow up, but I'm pretty sure I want to live with him, in the cottage in the meadow, with flowers in my hair and holding hands forever.
Monday, 20 July 2009
You can fly, you can fly, you can fly!
There is nothing that evokes the joys of childhood like sneaking into a deserted park and letting your inner child loose inside.
Personally, this charming girl likes the swings best, and always points her toes at the sky.
Tomorrow, go to your local park, and as soon as the sun sets, make like me and fly.
May I have this dance?
Sometimes, I find myself watching old fashioned films, and sighing over what we have lost.
No longer do we have that grace of society, when girls were really girls, and men, well - were men. Not that I have anything against girls wanting to dress masculine, or boys getting in touch with their feminine side, I just sometimes wish I could step out in a proper dress for once, and not be looked at strangely.
No longer do we have debutante balls to celebrate the entering of a young lady into society, a few remain, cast into the shadows of Paris, and reserved for only the super rich - before they were far more commonplace, and while still only for the upper echelons of society, were certainly more accessible than these far off fairy tale dreams of today.
With this death of such events, it seems chivalry has also perished, I'm all for being an independent woman, but would it kill a guy to hold a door open once in a while? To bring flowers? Saying this, I'm pretty much set with men, not letting go of this one, but I see my friends constantly struggle with utter bastards, and I have to wonder what happened to dance cards, courting, and fathers permission.
So I say this - girls, wack on a frock, and lets go out dancing!
No longer do we have that grace of society, when girls were really girls, and men, well - were men. Not that I have anything against girls wanting to dress masculine, or boys getting in touch with their feminine side, I just sometimes wish I could step out in a proper dress for once, and not be looked at strangely.
No longer do we have debutante balls to celebrate the entering of a young lady into society, a few remain, cast into the shadows of Paris, and reserved for only the super rich - before they were far more commonplace, and while still only for the upper echelons of society, were certainly more accessible than these far off fairy tale dreams of today.
With this death of such events, it seems chivalry has also perished, I'm all for being an independent woman, but would it kill a guy to hold a door open once in a while? To bring flowers? Saying this, I'm pretty much set with men, not letting go of this one, but I see my friends constantly struggle with utter bastards, and I have to wonder what happened to dance cards, courting, and fathers permission.
So I say this - girls, wack on a frock, and lets go out dancing!
The Great Bra Drama
It occurred to me recently how misguided the current industry is when it comes to lingerie (and as a result, how grateful I am to Bravissimo for being there for me!)
I'm a 20 year old girl, and I have 28H breasts - there, I said it. It feels filthy, like I should be saying it at some kind of Breasts Anonymous meeting. The stigma around having big breasts follows me, constantly those of us with a bit more up top are made to feel although we are slutty, or worse, deformed.
Yes - deformed. Why is it when such a large percentage of UK women have above D cup breasts (the UK average is more like a 36C than the commonly thought 34B), so many stores stop at a C/D (Topshop, I am looking at you), thus making us feel like freaks, confined to the internet for our lingerie, or to specialist shops which are only in a handful of towns across the country.
So many of us are wearing the wrong size of that, and its either through not being fitted frequently enough (ANYTHING can make your boobs fluctuate, I swear!), or through poor fitting advice - to give you some idea, the only places I trust near my boobs are Bravissimo, or Rigby and Peller - why skimp on something you have for the rest of your life.
As an experiment, I went round all the usual UK high street places that use a tape measure to do boobs (for me, a cardinal sin of boobage, how does this work when boobs extend side ways and upwards - not just outwards),
First port of call, Debenhams, who put me in a 30FF - close, but no cigar, I was busting out of the sides and top, and it was too loose around the back, I was then informed that they simply 'did not deal with people like me' and was referred to my faithful friend, the internet.
Next - onwards to La Senza who attempted to put me in a 34F, which yes, gave me ample cleavage, but also left me feeling as though in ten minutes I would have escaping boob syndrome!
I also tried M and S - possibly the best fitting advice out of the lot, who put me in a 30G, looked at me sadly and said 'I am so sorry darling, we won't be able to help you'.
All in all this high street experience has made me feel as though I am a freak for being a skinny girl with big boobs - yes, I am unusual, but I feel like I am being influenced into changing for this, and I certainly do not want to lose my figure.
High street - take notice, we are out here, we are chesty, and we want bras!
I'm a 20 year old girl, and I have 28H breasts - there, I said it. It feels filthy, like I should be saying it at some kind of Breasts Anonymous meeting. The stigma around having big breasts follows me, constantly those of us with a bit more up top are made to feel although we are slutty, or worse, deformed.
Yes - deformed. Why is it when such a large percentage of UK women have above D cup breasts (the UK average is more like a 36C than the commonly thought 34B), so many stores stop at a C/D (Topshop, I am looking at you), thus making us feel like freaks, confined to the internet for our lingerie, or to specialist shops which are only in a handful of towns across the country.
So many of us are wearing the wrong size of that, and its either through not being fitted frequently enough (ANYTHING can make your boobs fluctuate, I swear!), or through poor fitting advice - to give you some idea, the only places I trust near my boobs are Bravissimo, or Rigby and Peller - why skimp on something you have for the rest of your life.
As an experiment, I went round all the usual UK high street places that use a tape measure to do boobs (for me, a cardinal sin of boobage, how does this work when boobs extend side ways and upwards - not just outwards),
First port of call, Debenhams, who put me in a 30FF - close, but no cigar, I was busting out of the sides and top, and it was too loose around the back, I was then informed that they simply 'did not deal with people like me' and was referred to my faithful friend, the internet.
Next - onwards to La Senza who attempted to put me in a 34F, which yes, gave me ample cleavage, but also left me feeling as though in ten minutes I would have escaping boob syndrome!
I also tried M and S - possibly the best fitting advice out of the lot, who put me in a 30G, looked at me sadly and said 'I am so sorry darling, we won't be able to help you'.
All in all this high street experience has made me feel as though I am a freak for being a skinny girl with big boobs - yes, I am unusual, but I feel like I am being influenced into changing for this, and I certainly do not want to lose my figure.
High street - take notice, we are out here, we are chesty, and we want bras!
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