Am I a Feminist?

Being raised by a woman that is the epitome of capability and strength should have given me an early taste for feminism. However my foundation of faith was more dominant and growing up in church meant traditional gender roles were clarified early on. I liked Barbie and all things girly, and was told that it was a ‘tragedy’ if a girl wasn’t taught how to be a girl from a young age; God made us this way and we need to own our femininity with pride.

And if I’m painfully honest, there was a big ‘damsel in distress’ part of me that wanted to be rescued. It’s what Disney taught us and let’s be honest… Romantic.

Needless to say, Feminism slipped far under the radar of my child-turned-adult consciousness. It went in the same camp as the tree-huggers and all I knew is that it most probably involved daringly hairy legs, which ruled out my interest. It was unfeminine to stand up and fight, after all no one likes a forward-thinking, opinionated loudmouth, do they? Females should be ladylike and making a fuss about anything, let alone women’s rights, is certainly not that.

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A Letter to Fashion

Dear Fashion,

I’m picturing you personified right now, sitting across from me, and my immediate image is bemusing and probably a little stereotypical. Sorry, we can blame the media bastards for that.

You are thin with shoulder length ombre’d hair that’s parted in the centre. Your outfit is effortlessly chic, obviously, and you’re sipping your macchiato while surreptitiously eyeing my outfit. Not in an admiring way. It’s Autumn so you’re hidden under one of those gorgeous floppy hats that I don’t know the name of and couldn’t pull off, myself. You look absolutely fabulous, even I know that.

I do know about you, by the way. I like pretty things as much as the next girl. I look at the magazines occasionally and admire the ‘fash-un’ girls on the streets of London, the ones that are your BFFs and you tell all your secrets to. I mean, you and I wouldn’t go for coffee together and you definitely wouldn’t waste your tips and inside info on me. It’s a fairly one way relationship. (I.e. You’re just another person I stalk on social media.)

I think you’re alright but I don’t love you because try as I might, I cannot understand you, keep up with you or afford you. You’re moving a little too fast for me and it definitely isn’t cheap to hang out with you. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t walk the streets in crocs and cargo pants. I like to look good and I even own a few items you would approve of. My best friend even thinks I’m super cool, but it’s part of her job role. So, there you go.

I just like to be comfortable… Which is what brought on the awkward track pants and hoodie phase a few years ago, that and my total lack of pride. Anyway that was before I realised that you can be comfortable AND look nice. Revelation of the century! But heels = no way. I wore them for my birthday last weekend and lasted the whole night (wooo), but those cute little boots probably won’t see the light until this time next year. The pain just isn’t worth the sexy calves and height. Plus I have bunions which you have probably never heard of, you lucky thing. Google them.

The problem is, dear Fashion, that you’re illusive to me and totally unattainable. I can generally tell what looks good, but when it comes to catwalk fashion I am 100 per cent lost. No one would ever wear half of that stuff on the street so what is the point? I’m into what I can wear day-to-day, anything else is just excess. I’m like a practical mother. Without the babies.

I don’t have the time or interest to spend hours trawling through markets, malls, websites, blogs and charity stores. So I will stick with the clothes that accentuate my ‘womanly waist’ and get on with it. I like what I like, that’s as far as it goes. If I happen to like anything ‘in trend’ then yay! We can wave at each other in the street and you can give me a nod of approval, kind of like the end scene in The Devil Wears Prada. I’d like that.


Pssttt – Do you like fashion or do you not quite get it either? Let me know I’m not alone in the comments! 

What’s Your Love Story?

I am petrified of love. What it does to me, where it will take me, who it will turn me into. For both reasonable and irrational reasons, I don’t have the best view of it. I do in an idealistic way and I know it’s a beautiful thing, but I feel like love and I don’t go well together. I’m working on that, because though my being single right now is amazing and purposeful, I don’t want to be single forever.

I was read this quote the other day by a friend and I adore it. It made me look at love, something that has perplexed me and confused me for years, in a completely new light. It is the best definition of romantic love I have ever heard:

“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”

― Louis de Bernières, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin

This quote is both romantic and sweet, but incredibly realistic, which is why I love it. Now, I put out a call for your voice and input. What do you think of the above quote? Are you single, dating or married? I would really like to hear your love story in the comments section, whatever it is. Sorry to be a little cheesy but I like these stories because they give me hope. I love that every person’s story is different, and the same way no two people are the same, no two love stories are the same either. That is a very good thing and your love story, messy or simple, is to be cherished!

Will you tell me your love story? Or just share your experience, view, or definition of love?

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