The world needs to make it’s mind up

Today I was in a particularly bad mood. And I’m not talking an ‘I’m-feeling-bad-so-I’ll-go-and-brood-in-silence’ mood, I’m talking an ‘I-hate-everything-and-everyone-in-this-world-I-apologise-for-the-fact-my-hormones-are-making-me-cry-with-anger-at-you-but-not-really-cause-I-hate-you’ kind of mood. 

Unfortunately this I-hate-everything-and-everyone-in-this-world-I-apologise-for-the-fact-my-hormones-are-making-me-cry-with-anger-at-you-but-not-really-cause-I-hate-you mood coincided with shopping for my sisters birthday present with my mum, someone who tends to bear the brunt of my PMS (it’s not my fault she becomes intensely and unbearably irritating in this particular week). 

Anyway, whilst carefully examining two CD’s to work out which one my sister would prefer, my mum sighed with exasperation and muttered ‘make your bloody mind up’ in the kind of way that is both under her breath and loud enough for me to hear and hopefully take the hint at the same time. This comment not only irritated me because I was lovingly and thoughtfully trying to work out how I would make my sisters birthday present special, but because, well, how the hell am I supposed to make my mind up when the world quite simply can’t. 

I mean, just look at the messages we are given on a daily basis;

It’s Ok to be fat… but you mustn’t be (the fact we are constantly being told to be comfortable in our own skin and not conform to societies view of the perfect body would be fine, if we weren’t also being told that we’re all overweight and must eat the right food and do the right amount to exercise in order to stay a ‘healthy’ weight.)

Education isn’t as important as your happiness… but make sure you get good grades or you’ll ruin your life (Can’t you be happy and get good grades? Well, I am quickly realising that that is not an option (unless of course you have the ability to pass exams without many nights sat in front of a work book frantically cramming names and dates of a subject you quite frankly couldn’t care less about))

You aren’t a piece of meat… but if I can see your school skirt below your blazer you’re a bit weird (In my school you are seen as an outsider if you wear your skirt at a reasonable length. This doesn’t effect me personally (I actually quite like my legs!) but it’s still giving us a bad impression of what looks ‘nice’)

You must be your self… but not too much (Being yourself is a good thing, until you actually do it, then you’re destined to a life as an outsider)

You mustn’t label yourself… but we’re gonna do it anyway (You must never label yourself, after all, everyone’s individual… right? WRONG. Apparently people fit into five main groups (mainly based on you’re instagram feed and ability to take selfies))

Ok, this outburst came from a totally unimportant and everyday situation, but you try going shopping when you’re in an I-hate-everything-and-everyone-in-this-world-I-apologise-for-the-fact-my-hormones-are-making-me-cry-with-anger-at-you-but-not-really-cause-I-hate-you mood.



My hair has feelings

You know when you do something your whole life and only realise it’s weird when someone points it out? Yeah, well that happened.

Since I can remember I have referred to my hair as having feelings. No, I have no idea how and when it started or why no one ever told me that it is, in fact, a very strange thing to do.

However, yesterday someone finally took the liberty of telling me that personifying my hair is not a normal thing to do. My friend offered to straighten it for me, to which I replied ‘no thanks, straighteners make my hair angry’. At first the quizzical look she threw in my direction confused me, after all, doesn’t everyone’s hair have feelings? Apparently not.

‘Ummm… your hair can’t get angry, its hair…’

‘Yes, it’s hair that will hate me for a week if you attempt to straiten it.’

This remark was not taken well. In fact, it was taken with a widen of the eyes and a shuffle backwards.

What she didn’t seem to understand is, as soon as a pair of GHD’s clasp onto a lock of my hair, there’s no going back. The damage is done and it will not cooperate with me for days on end. Honestly, after two years of trying, I think I would know what gets on my hairs nerves.

I also tend to claim that certain hair product make my hair ‘happy’. I once mentioned this to a shop assistant and the same quizzical look was thrown in my direction.

‘I use this product too, it’s great isn’t it’

‘Yeah, it makes my hair really happy’

I had assumed that quizzical glance was pure rudeness but thinking back, it was pretty necessary.

Now my friend has pointed it out, I’m noticing just how much I do it. Honestly, I may as well be Celia from Monsters Inc.

Anyway, I’m not the only person who does this… right