New Years’ Resolutions cheat-sheet: instant happiness*

*happiness may or may not be instantaneous

Well, it is official, the first month of the new year is almost drawing to a close. It is easy to look back on 2017 and make one simple decision; do we repeat past ways (some may say mistakes), or do we pave new paths for ourselves? Ultimately these ‘resolutions’ we form, whether physical, financial or even sometimes emotional are what we use to guide us on the next 365 or so days of our journey.

With all the reflection that is occurring it is so easy to get lost on what really needs changing. For me, the whole purpose of a New Year’s resolution is to promote a positive change in my life. So in order to this, we have to identify aspects of our lives or environment that we want to be changed. It can be something as simple as learning to say thank you when you get your morning coffee or to make eye contact when you order your dinner. Resolutions and plans however trivial they may be, are just that; plans. You have to actively plan what you are doing and create ways and strategies to get what you want. Yeah of course sometimes plans don’t always pan out and that is also okay. (Hell if they did I would be a married mum of two by now and thank the LAWD that isn’t the case. Sidenote – all my plants are currently plastic, thank you IKEA. Another New Years Ressie not kept.)

Rather than tell you how to live your life and what to do, I thought I would merely suggest things that collectively we could all work towards to ensure that we all survive and make 2018 as positive and sane as we can.

So here is my freshly cultivated, no B-S list of things that need to remain FIRMLY in 2017.

  1. Being chicken sh*t. Now I know that this is A LOT easier said than done. But hey, if I can do it then so can you. Whether it be related to personal or professional  – carpe diem the crap out of life. You are never too young or too old to do anything. You wanna quit your job that you hate but keep because you don’t know how to resign? You are secretly in love with your best friends brother and have been since high school? You want to go back to university but you are in your mid-twenties and feel like you are too old? Now I am not trying to rip off everyone’s favourite shoe brand but for the love of Pete; just do it! Only you have the power to fix something so f*cking DO IT.
  2. Doing things for other people, not yourself. I am a big people pleaser. BIG. I love people coming to me and telling me their problems and wanting my advice. That stuff is what I live for. Well, I used to. You see the thing about constantly being other peoples soundboard is that when it came time to do things for myself or for me to talk about my feelings I felt like there was no-one there to listen. Obviously, this isn’t the case but I have learnt over time to not be so giving of myself to others who genuinely DNGAF about me.
  3. Sh*t relationships; sex, friends, family, work, just no. This is something I obviously don’t have to divulge too much on (hopefully?). It is quite easy just don’t fake it. Your sex, your friendships, your happiness, your work happiness. Don’t like it? Change it. Don’t live mediocrely. Life is way too short to be unhappy and stuck in sh*t circumstationships you don’t like. Yes, I made that word up. Deal with it.
  4. Bullying or just being a generally sh*t person. This is tied in with relationships. I don’t care if you are forty-six, twenty-six or sixteen (actually not sixteen, you are a child – stop reading); do not be a sh*t person. In a world that is so driven by (the false concept) of superiority and (also false) status quo, you don’t need to conform and in turn treat people like a POS just for self-vilification.  In the wise words of my Oma, “if you can’t say anything nice then don’t say anything at all.” Preach it Oms. If you do, you are not welcome in 2018. Back you go. Bye Felicia.
  5. Socks and sandals. Nuff’ said really. This is a legit no-brainer. I don’t care what Milan fashion week might be telling you in February. No! But in saying this, I am digging that everyone is more now than ever on board with the Birks. Go team!!

So here is to 2018. The new year, well what is left of it. A year for self-discovery and self-belief and most of all – a year where you do whatever you want to do because YOU want to. Not because you think you should do it, or because it will make you look good to other people. Do things for YOU not how you want to be perceived by the public, your partner, your (stalked) crush, your family or your nosey neighbour Sally who definitely keeps up with your life more than the Kardashians.

Do you (take this is whatever way you want), be you, be happy.

In the wise words of Rihanna – “Don’t let the bastards get you down. Turn it around…”

Erin x







Single and definitely not going to mingle

There is usually more often than not, one question, you are asked when you are single. It is something along the lines of ‘why are you single?’ or ‘are you out there looking?’ or my personal favourite, ‘there is literally millions of fish in the sea, why aren’t you looking?’ First of all Cheryl, the great big ocean full of fish you are describing, to me, is more like a dirty mud puddle that has been made after a hideously big 4×4 drove through it. And I am wearing white. It is a combo that just does not go together and we sure as hell should not force it.

Shout out to the singles who are legitimately looking for love. Obviously, I am not knocking singles because I know there is some that are pining for the one, looking for their prince charming, want to be swept off their feet etc. and that is completely their prerogative. It just isn’t something that everyone wants or needs. You do you boo. You decide If you are going to go out and smooch 5’000 toads over one weekend or just plant kisses on your dog all weekend (the latter is completely hypothetical I swear). That is all the beauty of being single kids.

“But how are you happy by yourself?” I know most people, myself included, has been happy either in their current relationship or a previous one. Like me, they’ve also probably been so angry with rage they wanted to break up then and there and would swear to stay single forever. In saying this, shouldn’t your own happiness be dictated by yourself, not other people? Being happy within yourself should be more important than what anyone else thinks of you. Period. 

Why aren’t these questions about their happiness or how their current life is not being dictated by a relationship? Now I am not saying that anyone is dating a tyrant or that relationships are similar to a dictatorship. I am simply highlighting the fact that sometimes it is nice to be alone. Shock horror. Mic drop. Plot twist. Some people, myself included, thoroughly enjoy being alone. The bed hogging, the lack of having to maintain their bodies unless they want to get some (don’t be a prude, we all know it’s true) is all a beautiful and blissful part of being single. So they call it marital bliss but why isn’t there a title for single? Other than the obvious spinster, cat lady, player or my absolute favourite, feminist. Why are these labels all negatives? From here on out, I would prefer to be called loveless legend rather than single.

But could you imagine if it was reversed? Cripes, all hell would break loose. Look at it this way, the next person to ask you, ‘why are you single?’, bluntly respond with ‘why are you in a relationship?’ and walk away. The same question just posed differently. Now a word of warning, after this has happened this person will most likely NOT stay in your life but cares there is like 7 billion others ya know? This is purely to prove my point. Do not say this to someone. In fact, I strongly advise against it.

So please whether you are male or female, young or old(er), channel your inner Samantha Jones/Sasha Fierce and be proud of being single, embrace it even.

So my advice is this: next time you are tempted to ask someone their dating history; do not do it unless you have seen them on Tinder and are keen on a cheeky smooch. Otherwise, you are soliciting for a verbal smackdown that is approved by yours truly. Everyone has a private life that is their own. Shock horror right?! We wouldn’t want other people in our business so don’t be in theirs.

Happy Tinder’ing kids!

PS – don’t drink and tinder. Might sound fun, but trust me, it isn’t. TRUST ME.

PPS – don’t drunkenly message your exes. AGAIN, TRUST ME.

Erin x

9 reasons why life would be easier if I were born a boy.

Now that may seem dramatic and drastic but it wasn’t until recently that I realised just how much emphasis there is on women relative to our beauty regimes, work outs, ‘goals’, the list is endless really. After speaking with my dad about my usual Thursday night tanning ritual it was brought to my attention just how much men don’t give a crap about that sort of thing. Although Beyoncé was right about how different things would be if she were a boy; her priorities were definitely out of-wack. Below is a list of carefully crafted things that would be much easier if we were born with male appendages.

  1. Fake tanning. We wouldn’t have to succumb to the usual Wednesday night full body/soul scrub down. Yes, Bondi Sands have made this a lot easier to undertake but it is still a tedious job which hurts my heart. If we were boys, we wouldn’t have to worry about fake tanning. If a dude is not tanned, he has a cute Edward Cullen-esque vampire vibe. If a girl isn’t fake tanned, we get asked if we are sick.
  2. Teeth whitening. I know that a lot of men also like to whiten their teeth but I feel like they aren’t defined by their pearly whites. Yeah, it’s a plus for them to have nice white teeth but have you seen how much red wine us females drink just on a week night?
  3. Shaving. Anything. Or laser. Or waxing. Or sugaring. If men have a hairy chest or armpit hair, it’s cute. If I have chest hair or armpit hair, it’s $39 per laser session. Pronto. I have actually had an ex-boyfriend pay for a laser hair removal package. He was completely un-prompted to buy that, so naturally not too sure why I was so ungrateful for his ‘thoughtful’ gesture. I have friends who have had men tell them that they need to sort out their hair, wherever on their body it may be. Um, men should just be grateful that they get to be close enough to a woman to see her body, let alone critique their hair. Also apparently now hair is back in? So FFS we cannot win.
  4. Going out. Anywhere. Anybody knows that you need to tell a woman to be somewhere AT LEAST 30 minutes prior to an actual kick-off time. A lot goes into our outfit, our hair, our make-up. We need time. Men can roll out of bed, sniff a shirt, throw it on and then leave whilst doing their hair with a clenched fist resembling a noogy on the way out of the door. If a woman did that, we are somewhat likened to a crack fiend or is that just me?
  5. Eating. Men can eat anything with ease. A burger with grease spilling out the sides and onto their shirt? No problem, challenge accepted. If women were to do this, hell would freeze over and a sonar radar would go off. The looks, the aw, the gaff. Ugh I can see it now.
  6. Exercising. One (hyphenated) word – camel-toe. What the hell is with that?! No matter what brand, how high, how short, how loose, how tight; always! It is inevitable. Guys throw a baggy muscle tee and some pants on and they are off. Girls with big boobs? Two sports bras please. No boobs? $70 for a sports bra with extra padding to make you not look like a boy (ahem, me. PSA – Please anyone, make cheaper padded bras?!). Too tall? Well, all full-length tights are going to be 7/8’s or 3/4’s on you (also me). For me, my workout gear is always black. No exceptions except maybe a sports bra here or there. Women will need the following: gym tights, seamless knickers, bra, top, jacket, towel, water bottle, shoes, headphones, headband (not me, but it’s a thing I’m sure). Even thinking about what to wear when exercising can cause excessive sweating and you haven’t even started exercising yet. Now to actually get to exercising. Women can do 5’000+ classes a week, lift minimum to maximum weights and still only see staggered results. Men? Well, all men need is ANY ol’ t-shirt, ANY ol’ pair of pants, whatever shoes are in their car and can consume beer and eat donuts and still have a 6 pack. Like I’m obviously not mad or jealous but how does that even work?
  7. Swearing and laughing. I will be the first to admit that when I laugh too hard or something is really hilarious I will snort. Fact. But this is not to be confused with the like of a cute little Babe the pig snort. When I snort it is a loud and deep guttural snort that resembles something a truck driver would do. Speaking of truck drivers; if a woman swears it is unladylike. If a man swears it is more acceptable than that if a woman did – WTF? I have been known to drop a few expletives here and there and I will not apologise. Except for that one time I screamed “F*CK!” at age seven when I went to stand up whilst sitting directly under the table. Idiot.
  8. Farting. Burping. Any bodily function. WHICH EVERYONE ON THE PLANET DOES. I will admit it; I am an adult when it comes to most things except farts. I think they are hilarious. Just thinking about it makes me cackle like a witch. But girls are almost in denial about it. Um, I am pretty sure we’ve all done it. If you haven’t, please do yourself a favour and go to the doctors ASAP. If a dude farts and it is rancid, it’s almost celebrated and cheered for amongst the fellas. If a girl does, it is mortifying and you are shunned.
  9. Sex. ‘Nuff said. Obviously, I don’t even need to go there, do I?

Obviously, this isn’t the only things that are an issue and I’ve met a lot of men who do a lot of the above things and they do it all A LOT better than me. I also know a lot of women who don’t GAF about the above. Especially number 8, that’s a big one…. You know, for my friends…

I’ve been okay most of my life and that is no longer okay with me.

Originally posted on That Awkward Conversation – 

Being someone that has mental health issues and an illness can be quite disparaging to say the least. Society teaches us that we are to put up our guards and create this façade of ‘okay’. Since when did okay become alright and acceptable? Okay is bland and boring and doesn’t really say anything. Okay does not cut the mustard. If you were to ask someone how they are going and they respond with ‘okay’, you have wasted your question. It can be such a nothing word. And this nothing word has been a personal favourite of mine for a long time. My stress levels were okay. I had convinced myself that my eating habits or lack thereof were okay. I was only drinking and smoking socially and that was okay. I was making excuses for sh*tty relationships and sh*tty people but again, that was okay, because they made me feel okay. Cue alarm bells ringing! This was not okay and something had to be done and it was done and then suddenly just feeling okay didn’t mean anything to me anymore. This mundane four letter word almost became like every other four letter word; a ‘swear word’ and one I tried to not use too often. Except the word sh*t. I think that word is fab FYI!

Much like anyone else who also has anxiety, depression or any of the other forms of mental illness, you become accustomed to this feeling of nothingness and emptiness. It becomes a sort of security blanket. You are wrapped up so tightly by it you almost feel at any given moment it could just become too tight and swallow you up whole. For a brief moment this might not even feel like such a bad idea. You might go to bed wishing to not wake up, but you do the next day and so the cycle continues. For as long as it needs to and as long as you can push through with being just ‘okay’. I am in no way saying this is what it is like for everyone but this is me. Brutally honestly, me. For me anyway, it’s like this crazy rollercoaster it has its ups and its downs. You will go through a period were it’ll throw you upside down and you feel like you are going to puke and your eyeballs are going to fall out of your head. Then there will be a smooth ride, a brief transition where you feel as though everything is okay. But if high school science taught me anything, what goes up must come down. So you learn to cope. Your coping mechanism could be anything. Mine? My coping mechanism to dealing with losing grip on reality/everything is to turn to my best friend or a brief freak-out or what is now commonly dubbed the sh*t-fit. We might sh*t-fit with each other at least one if not twice a week. Yes, sometimes it isn’t for anything health related. It might be men related or sex related which I guess is men related too. It could be university related (in my case HIGHLY linked to mental health), gym related, family related etc. the list really is endless. This weekly catch up with him, to me, is far more therapeutic than anything else.

One thing that people say to do is take it day by day. Which is so true and something you can only do when you are ready. You can cry, sing, laugh, or snort your way through your story and telling it in whatever which way suits you. But be warned; people are impatient little things sometimes. When someone knows something is wrong they want to fix it. They want to fix you and make you feel like you’ve just ingested a big bowl of chicken soup. It is the hero complex and you’re kidding yourself if you don’t feel that way too. But be warned, there is NOTHING worse than someone trying to get something out of you BEFORE you are ready to tell them. I constantly have had people berating me, if not begging to be told what is wrong. The problem? Half the time, hell definitely more than half the time I don’t even know what is wrong. Why am I crying? No clue. Why am I suddenly the worlds’ most-laziest person (when I am usually exercising for over an hour a day) and eating my body weight in chocolate (when I already know I have a diary intolerance)? Hmm, not too sure on that one either. All I know is the ‘label’ of triggers is bullsh*t. They differ from person to person and boy oh boy do they differ within me too. They differ definitely weekly, if not almost daily. My anxiety stems from stress, I know this. Hell I am pretty sure even my dog knows it. But at least I know the trigger. But what does my stress manifest from? HA! It would be easier to write what it doesn’t come from. Originally my anxiety was triggered by my un-wavering and self-destructive relationship I had with my body perception and my sh*tty relationship with food. My body dysmorphia is still something to this day that gets me anxious and stresses me out but I know I don’t want to make myself sick again. I don’t want to be self-destructive because I honestly don’t think I would be able to handle it again the second time round. I know I am fit(-ish), healthy and can indulge in ‘naughty’ foods every now and then. I don’t punish myself for eating chocolate or having a drink when my day has sucked. I know that when I start stressing out and I am no longer just okay that sh*t is about to well and truly hit the fan.

Whenever I think of mental health of both my own and of others I always revert back to the movie ‘The Sweetest Thing’ – great film. If you haven’t seen it, Netflix it. Right. Now. In the film there is a part were Cameron Diaz says something which she immediately backs up with “Just kidding” or “I’m joking”, to which Christina Applegate’s characters call BS on. “People only say just kidding so they can say what they are feeling without being judged”. This is something that always stuck with me from that film (as well as that cool lil jingle in the Chinese restaurant). This is also something I strive to no longer do too. For so long, I would “crack jokes” about how I was feeling and then when I got any sort of reaction and gauged someone cared I would quickly whip out “just kidding” to automatically make myself feel indestructible again. Because no-one other than myself should know I was feeling like sh*t. It was this societal perception that I had become so brain-washed by that saw little ol’ Ez at 16 years of age see that I had to be embarrassed. Because that is what society teaches us right? WRONG! Changing this mindset was what led to me to where I am now. Not physically; as I am currently sitting on the bus on the way home from University. But more so in general. I am no longer working a sh*tty job that paid well but made me feel the size of a peanut (which is hard when you are nearly 6ft tall!). I am no longer tolerating and giving excuses to ‘okay’ things. I’m interested in what my friends and family are doing; not that I wasn’t before but now I am actually listening properly. Sorry mum. I am no longer letting things upset me or allowing myself to be treated like trash. If I had a problem with something or someone, I say it because I am not okay with it.

They say that laughter is the best medicine. And boy oh boy am I lucky that I am a sarcastic b*tch in that case. For me, my entire life is one massive comedy. I use humour like it is my first language and swearing as my second, closely followed by English as my third (Apologies to my grandparents; I am a lady I swear #punny). Right now, I’m good. I had a horrendous two weeks, I cried, I laughed, I had large bursts of rage, I got made, I broke sh*t, I drank, I smoked (BAD!), I cried some more. But the one thing I did? I survived. I made it. The past two weeks sucked but I am here and I am going to make the next fortnight my b*tch. I have a plan. I have everything set out. I know what I have to do. I am just going to do it. And you can too x


Signs that you are in your quarter-life crisis AND that you are totally kicking its butt

A quarter life crisis is a thing. Google it. Well if it isn’t; it is a real thing. Now I’m no doctor but I am assuming it is sort of like menopause? It has a ‘sort of’ age range to it and isn’t distinctly subject to twenty-five year olds. I know people who are in the early and not even twenties who I am almost certain (again, not a doctor) going through theirs. Then there’s people who are blissfully unaware of all the stresses occurring to everyone around them targeting other people in their mid-twenties to late thirties that I am pretty sure have never sweated anything in their lives. But hey that’s cool, each to their own *cue major eyeroll*.

Sign number #1 – You choose an outfit to wear to dinner based on how much food you plan on consuming and how comfortable you want to be afterwards.

Sign number #2 – You weigh up going out on a Saturday night by deciding how many chores are COMPULSORY on Sunday. “Sorry girls, gotta miss wine night but I will drive and be on the waters. I have about three loads of delicate’s I can’t put off tomorrow.”

Sign number #3 – Netflix and chill is legitimately 150% solely Netflix and chill. The mere thought of it being anything else induces the biggest eye roll of all time. Ever.

Sign number #4 – You are single and have NO time for Bumble, Tinder or any other dating app yet complain about being single AND THEN complain that there are no decent guys but give not a single sorry dude any attention. Ever.

Sign number #5 – You would much rather lie and say you’ve got an amazing weekend planned than actually go out and socialize *shudders*

Sign number #6 – The word budget no longer scares you and is incorporated into your weekly chores.

Sign number #7 – Instead of throwing out those paper catalogues / junk mail you receive almost every 20 seconds in the mail, you go through and find the weekly deals and specials and shop accordingly.

Sign number #8 – You know that it is definitely wrong to do something so you don’t do it. Whereas when you were younger you would do it, regret it and then be all “learning curve, lol.”

Sign number #9 – You understand the need for compare websites such as life insurance and health insurance. You utilise health insurance to its full potential such as 2 for 1 glasses, remedial massages and acupuncture.

Sign number #10 – You don’t spend your weekends drinking and ‘wasting’ your life away. You have concocted to-do lists and the top of the lists primarily include washing the car, sugar soaping the walls instead of drinking your body weight in vodka and twerking (attempting to) at a random dingy dark club.

Sign number #11 – You put petrol in your car BEFORE the empty light flashes not just as an emergency to get you from A to B, C, D and then scrape on through to Z.

Sign number #12 You understand that you need to check your oil levels and tyre pressure at regular intervals rather than waiting for the mechanic to do it for you. Yes, I may have only learnt how to do this this week but hey, baby steps.

Although it’d be awesome to be able to be Peter Pan and never age, it is inevitable. At some stage or another we get older, we turn into ‘adults’, we do ‘adult’ things, we *shudders at the thought* may even become the people we always swore we would never become. It is however up to you as to when and how you grow up. But hey, that topic is a blog post in itself.



The One Word You Need to Learn to Never Have a Bad Day Again

Disclaimer – Okay I cannot really promise that. You may have a bad day again; actually you probably will have a bad day again. This word isn’t really going to stop that… BUT I am sure learning it will help nonetheless. I can’t really make too many promises on that one either. Sh*t this may not be too helpful after all….

Listen up kids, I am about to let you in on a (not-so secret) secret. I’m a giver. I always have been. In all aspects of the word, you need something? I am your go to gal. Hell I am pretty sure even if Patricia* (from year six who used to bully me) asked me for a favour, I would do it. The moral of the story is that I used to be giving. Too giving. Being a constant shoulder or set of ears, holy guacamole, is a heavy burden. But now that’s all changed.

*cue sassy clicking from side to side*

Recently I was talking to a friend’s mum who taught me one of THE most valuable life lessons I have ever learnt. Obviously my parents have bestowed infinite wisdom about boys, life, birds and the bee’s blah blah blah, but this, this was nek level wisdom. What’s the word I learnt? Better get out the pen and paper, here’s your warning – it’s a long word, hard to pronounce really. Ready? Okay here we are, the word is…. “no”. Whether it’s relative to going out with friends for brunch, or coffee, or gym, or anything; if you don’t want to do it then use this word. Okay so sometimes you can come across as blunt or rude but if you don’t want to do something you don’t have to do it.

I am the biggest people pleaser. I always have been. Can’t help it. You need a shoulder to lean on, I’m your girl. Wanna get brunch on a Saturday even though I am severely hungover and battling my own demons and don’t want to leave the house, let’s go. I will always have the eggs benedict and the soy cappuccino. Want to talk about how fantastic your life is whilst I am wallowing in self-pity; obviously I am definitely in.

Cue to now, I am (slowly) learning to put myself first. I used to always put others needs before my own. I forgave people for things that occurred because I wanted them to feel okay about whatever happened. I didn’t mind the fact I was left bawling my eyes out for days on end or the mere fact that it may or may not fester away in my insides. I gave too many chances to people who didn’t deserve them because I didn’t want to upset them.  Ultimately, I was giving too much of myself to others, for their benefit. What did I gain? Nothing! Maybe more anxiety and deeper frown lines.

So I learnt how to manage it. You have gotta do what makes YOU happy. No one else. Don’t want to go to brunch with that dude off tinder because you can’t be bothered having a conversation with someone other than your dog OR shaving your legs? Don’t go. Don’t want to go bootcamp on a Saturday morning because you’re tired and you’ve had a big week and may or may not have indulged in one too many glasses of wine the night before? Don’t go. It’s your call, no one elses. Obviously you can’t go saying no to practical things such as work, uni, paying bills and other ‘grown-up’ responsibilities but hey, a gal can dream. My only exception to the ‘no’ rule would be if you get invited to do a twerk class. Go and do it for the love of GAWD. My knees are still in my knee pads and aching and I have established my a*s is non-existent and I cannot twerk to save my life but hey, I went out of my comfort zone and laughed my non-existent as* off.

I have gotten to a stage in my life where if I don’t want to do something then I am not going to. I don’t want to hang out with certain people anymore and that’s okay. I don’t eat meat anymore and that’s okay. I don’t make excuses anymore and pretend I am okay when I’m not and that is more than okay. I don’t make excuses for people being sh*t anymore and that’s okay.

Moral of the story – it is okay to put yourself first. Saying no to things doesn’t make you a horrible person, it makes you honest. And it turns out nan WAS right all along; honesty IS the best policy.

*Her name wasn’t Patricia. Well probably still isn’t. But you get the gist.




A Memo To All D*ckheads

Other people’s business is not, and never will be, your business. Sorry to break it to you but it isn’t. How someone lives their life is not open to discussion nor interpretation from you; unless they ask for it.

SOOOOOO often in today’s day and age, people are way too judgemental towards people they a) don’t know and b) have opinions on topics they know nothing about.

Let me set the scene for everyone shall I? Let’s use my friend as an example, let’s call her Cheryl. Cheryl recently broke up with her partner. She didn’t post it all over social networking nor did she go out and try and ‘forget’ about her ex-partners’ existence. She just moved the f*ck on. Now Cheryls’ ex-partners ‘mates’ however, let’s call him Patrick did the opposite. His mates have recently decided it’d be a sick idea to try and berate Cheryl and bring her down. This sort of stuff isn’t funny, cool nor necessary. Just shut up and move on. I don’t know, be mature about it, buy a plane ticket, book a boys trip overseas or something. Just leave that person alone.

Then on top of this back and forth BS, there’s the other people weighing in on it constantly. The people who aren’t close enough to be in on the drama / gossip but want to know, so ask either Cheryl or Pat if they’re still together and when someone screams/says politely “no”, they start pressing for answers. The old ‘who, what, where, when and why’, comes into play. People who legitimately have NO need to know your business, now want to know your business. But why? Why do people froth off of knowing that other people are going through a hard time?

On top of the people that are asking all the questions, there are the people who are assuming they know the reasons behind a break-up and have no problem in sharing their theories. These people are more dangerous than a glass of vodka that you mistake for a glass of water when you are hungover. These people are the pinnacle of d*cks as they are the ones who told such and such and then such and such AND THEN brought it up over brunch with Cheryl’s cousin who was then SO surprised when it comes back to said break-up-ee (Cheryl).

Now I can definitely say that I am not one to judge, because far out brussell sprout; we’ve all been there. Of course, sometimes I am privy to hear something and be like god damn, gotta share this, but even I have slowly (but surely) learnt I can’t do this. Why? Because this makes me an even bigger see you next Tuesday than the person who said it. I can honestly say I know things now that even make the hairs on my head curl (when I haven’t put a sh*t load of hairspray and straightened the be-jesus out of it), but I don’t. Keeping my mouth shut on things that a) aren’t any of my business and b) definitely are not any of my business; are things that I should definitely not speak about.

Now whilst I definitely do not condone violence, the adage “talk sh*t, get hit” is definitely relevant. If I hear anyone, and I mean absolutely anyone talking about Cheryl and Patrick and their relationship and how it ended, I will have ZERO hesitation in hitting you with the truth on it and how it is absolutely NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. Because I can guarantee that you have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.

So in summary, if it doesn’t concern you, don’t worry about it. Just move on and concentrate on your own life and your own problems. Christ, I am sure you’ve got bigger issues to deal with than why Cheryl and Patrick broke up three months ago.

What to do when all of your friends are comfortably ‘adulting’ and you can’t even find the shoes that you wore out last night

Irrespective of your age, anything can happen at any time. At twenty-four I have girlfriends that are married, that are pregnant, that have a baby, that have two babies, that are single parents, that are mums and dads of fur babies and then there is me. I am a full-time university student, working one or two jobs here and there, live with my parents and the closest I have to any form of relationship, is my unhealthy obsession with my family dog. Once the novelty of being an adult wears off and you are forced to recognise your responsibilities and jobs, you are reminded that being a kid wasn’t so tough after all. BIG. TIME. You go through the motions though because I can vividly remember being twelve or thirteen and thinking I knew EXACTLY how my life was going to pan out. I was going to follow closely in my parents and my grandparents footsteps. I was to be married, successful and be a mortgage holder in my early to mid-twenties. Well praise the lord that ideology didn’t amount to anything and I am doing my own thing, happily may I add.

Same babe same.

Don’t be fooled by the ol’ addages that tell you to get your sh*t together by a certain age. Or to ensure that you follow the ol’ beaten track that’s been set out for you. You know, the whole finish high school, fall in love, go to university, graduate university, get a job, get married, have babies and live your life blissfully. But as everyone knows, life isn’t a fairytale. You don’t end up with prince charming or usually the person you shacked up with in high school, because, well, thank god right?! Life isn’t perfect but it happens to everyone at different times.

How can you relate to your friends having children and getting married but you can’t even keep a plant alive? Honestly a plant.

Over time I have learnt that age is nothing but a number. Obviously it is a big deal when it comes to buying drinks, going to bars or buying cigarettes. But in relation to other things, it isn’t important. At all. You can meet someone who is eighteen years old who is more mature, grounded and more sincere than a fifty-year old you’ve known your entire life. Or the opposite end of the spectrum is you could meet a forty-year old who is the funniest, most quick-witted individual you’ve ever come across that enjoys spending their time making a fool of themselves rather than behaving ‘like an adult’. Irrespective of the DOB that is printed on your really un-attractive prison-like photographic identification, your age does not define you or where you should be at in your life.

All and I mean A-L-L of the people in my life are either: married, engaged, pregnant, with child/ren, buying a house, selling a house, renting a house, travelling the world, starting uni, finished uni, career-focused and driven, breaking up with partners, hooking up with new people, hooking up with old people, etcetera etcetera. I could honestly go on about it for hours. Then there’s me. Still living at home with my parents with zero intentions of moving out anytime soon, childless, semi-jobless, no idea what I want to do after I finish uni and the closest human contact I have had in months is with my waxing lady.

Everyday there is a constant birage of people on social networking that you know or ahem, stalk, that you know for a fact are living a better life than you.

Me for example I am a CLASSIC example of a mixed-up presentation. Sometimes on a Sunday I wake up at 8am, go for a run and then do a spin class closely followed by heading home via the supermarket, doing my weekly shop and then meal prepping. This Sunday just passed however, I woke up at 11am with my breath still laden with both alcohol and remnants of leftover McDonald’s on my clothes and had an entire French onion dip tub as my lunch. With a spoon. Whilst drinking a two-hour old cup of cold tea. It’s all about balance.

No matter where you are at in your life all that matters is that you are happy, truly happy. And I am.

UPDATE: My precious heels have been found.