I’m getting close to 800 posts on this little blog of mine. I’ve been writing an average of 13 posts a month, for 5 years. I have been a busy little bee haven’t I? This blog may not receive as many views (or comments) now as it did in the peak year of 2009, when I was going through the period of spilling my guts out whilst going through hell, but I appreciate those of you who pop by each day to keep up with my life. I may not personal blog as much as I used to, but then I am not going through so much hell, so I don’t need to.
Anyways, out of those 800 posts my most commented on post of all time was when I managed to smash a mirror to pieces and panicked about receiving 7 years of bad luck, which at that point in my life I really didn’t need. I was lamenting:
“two houses, one ex husband, and one ex long term boyfriend, plus lots of ex-friends; I think that’s enough bad luck for a long time, don’t you?”
“if you think it will happen, then it will; if you think you are going to break up, then you will break up”
The post generated a great discussion about whether positive thinking really does work or not. An actual friend was commenting too, so much of the discussion ended up being about my personality, which I admit I did not take too well at the time. Foresight? Hindsight? A fantastic thing. I still very much believe the second point above, but I did not realise that I was doing the pushing away. I was causing the bad luck, the bad friendships; I was walking away from relationships. I was not happy with where or who I was.
My life is not about law of attraction: I don’t have friends for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I have friends because they like me and I like them and most importantly I like myself around them. I may have a wobble occasionally (usually these days because of twitter’s blue lines making me feel lonely as I watch people organise meet ups without me) but in general I am hugely more comfortable with myself and where my life is at than I have ever been.
Whether it has been because of marrying B, or finding my bro, or becoming closer to my sister, or my sister in law, or basically because I’ve got over myself, I am not actually sure when the change happened, but I’ve stopped chasing something that I don’t actually want. I might still get jealous of other people’s lives but I don’t want their life. Mine is pretty darn good….and I didn’t get 7 years of bad luck. Phew.
Mrs S x
I’m a walking cliché. I love Louboutins and I’ve wanted a Balenciaga as long as I can remember (although I don’t like Mulberry). I’ve jumped on the Peter Pan collar bandwagon (even though I said I hated them). My makeup and beauty comes via Glossybox and Birchbox (and I always peek at the previews). My house is full of mid-century modern and up cycled furniture (that still smells of grannies, just a little bit).
So where am I going with this?
Everything that has made me into this person has comes from the internet. I’m an internet cliché. I blame the internet whole heartedly into making me into this clone. Where did I first spot Louboutins? The internet. Where did Peter pan collars come from? So many bloggers. There wouldn’t be a company like Birchbox who send you Yardley samples without this monitor driven word of ours.
I don’t want to be like everyone else. I don’t want to desire expensive products and home wares and giving everything in my life (including myself) a fresh coat of paint because a blogger told me to or to eat at frankly over priced hipster joints when I much prefer an old man’s pub and half a bitter. A blow dry at the hairdressers is a pointless waste of time. I am going to constantly swing between one dress size to another as well, I love pizza (and the aforementioned beer).
(Although my Louboutins? MINE)
(However, if a sexy giveaway of a 5 star freebie came my way, well, of course I’d jump at the chance to go/host/brag about it. If the free stuff was good enough, well, you would too. Plus who says they should be reserved for acid tongued restaurant reviewers who only really review in the last paragraph. Actually I like that form of review, not the simpering cleavage leaden shots that some bloggers now give us. Bloggers who do get free stuff? Feel free to carry on but please give me something intellectual to read)
I guess what I am saying is that blogging has become boring… I like normal people. Realistic people with real up and down lives. I like to read about them. Have them influence me. Not some fake lifestyle on the internet. I am bored of the same old same old. I am bored of everyone coveting and blogging the same curated Instagrammed and pinned to death life.
(even though I do it too)
When did we all stop spewing our guts out and replace it with a pretty misrepresentations of the weekend mostly spent in our pyjamas? I’ve realised that away from the blogging world i’ve become a walking talking cliche. When did I allow the super blogger become the curator of my life? Well, I’m going back to being it. Pronto.
Mrs S x
June 2012 “I’m fat” whine whine whine whine.
May 2013 “I’m fat” whine whine whine whine.
(note I am a just a little overweight, I know this, so will you bear with me with and read the rest of the post? Ta)
Little has changed since last year’s return from holiday and the massive crash I had after viewing the horrific photos. But it seems have been whining about feeling crappy about myself for nearly a year now and I’ve still not done anything about it. Whilst feeling overweight is bitch, moaning about it and doing nothing about it is worse – it’s the lazy, coward’s way out.
However, 5 years in to my 30s (yes I am going to be 35 in 5 weeks) and I am harbouring thoughts that I should just decline in to my 30s middle aged spread (all my weight is on my stomach) without a whimper. “It’s natural. It’s normal. You should stop worrying”. That is what my brain is saying.
NO I AM A LAZY COWARD. That is what my brain should be saying. But it isn’t.
The last time I bother to do any form of exercise (apart from lifting a wine glass) was right before the wedding when I did 2 weeks of the 30 Day Shred. The motivation – I got the total fear that I would look fat on the photos. It didn’t really work; as even though my dress had to be taken in twice and I was told multiple times that I looked tiny I still felt I looked fat on the photos.
So really what my brain is saying is that “even if you did lots of exercise you still felt fat”.
So it is a body image issue? “Once you see fat, there is no going back”? Is it, unlike last year, where I felt my clothes were the issue it’s actually not? I can find perfectly tailored clothes and still feel like a sack of potatoes. Or is it just me being a lazy coward and not getting on the treadmill? Or do i just need to find an exercise I enjoy? I’m going on holiday soon and this needs sorting out.
Mrs S x
My brain feels like it is all http://miss-smidge.co.uk/STRESS.
Instead of being happy when I found fabulous BHLDN bridesmaids dresses, or when I bought my Louboutins for my wedding shoes, or as we plan our road trip honeymoon down the west coast of America and dreaming of the Post Ranch Inn, or when we paid the deposit on a much better venue for the wedding than we thought we’d get it, my brain can’t seem to let me enjoy anything that is going on.
My life is full of excellent, fabulous things and i’m not enjoying them.
YES, PLEASE DO SLAP ME.
I honestly want to slap myself instead of all this woe is me is crap when really I have nothing to whine about. It’s like someone complaining that they are fat/ugly when they are blatantly beautiful. It’s not needed.…
…but I can’t help it, I can hear myself whine…
Instead of enjoying these things and cooing over the pretty I am instead stressing over every other detail in my life – a new job, more money, my hen-do, making this blog more, better, more read (I have no idea why, it should just be) – all the while trying to squirrel away every penny I have whilst not thinking my life is boring because all I so is spend/ squirrel/spend on the fricking wedding.
I am going to slap myself I don’t snap out of this funk right now.
I need to find something else to think about or do. Fast. I need a hobby… B has suggested volunteering at a cat sanctuary…any other ideas before I turn into smidgezilla from hell?
Miss S x