7 Reasons I’m a commitment-phobe

So it took all of 5 posts for me to stop writing on here, not all that far off my prediction. Maybe I should sack it all in and pursue a career as a psychic? Seems legit.

For real though, and the only reason I’m writing this is because I have no data on my commute home. It’s no surprise to me that I find something so simple, so difficult, because I am a total commitment-phobe. Please see examples attached:

One: I am completely incapable of making a solid plan. Ask any of my friends, I don’t agree to any plans without at least saying ‘I’ll just check my diary’. Bitch, you know you ain’t got no plans.

Carrie Pilby The Movie nah busy introvert bel powley GIF

Two: ‘I don’t even want a boyfriend, it seems like so much hassle’ she says. For the most part true, but a small part of that is my icy selfish heart.

 frozen ice queen of my heart flawless queen GIF

Three: I was reading up on commitment-phobes and apparently a common trait is being charming, so that makes sense.

 prince charming GIF

Four: Also, they are apparently really unorganised in their personal life. Anyone that knows me knows I live my day to day life like a bull in a china shop. Disastrous.

 reactions see nothing disaster nothing to see here GIF

Five: Just to go back to what I opened with, I can’t even keep up a twitter account. Let alone a whole BLOG. Or anything else.

 lazy kimmy schmidt titus but i already did something today GIF

Six: I have had my job for almost an entire year and the thought of it makes my hands clammy. Am I still going to be in the office when I’m 60? AM I ALREADY 60!?

 china GIF

Seven: Cheeky make out in a bar? Thanksss, yeah take my number, sureeee. (But please don’t ever text me, I would rather eat worms than cope with the awkwardness of ever conversing with you again)

 lose GIF

Soooo, for anyone that has ever asked why I am single.. this may be a pretty good tell. I’m the best three C’s. Cold, Charming & Clammy. I think there is probably a fourth that sums it all up a little better.. I just cunt quite put my finger on it.


How I know my soulmate is, in fact food.

The rough idea for this post came about a few weeks ago, I was horrendously hungover & that meant a warpath of fatty consumption.

Now, I’m not always diving head first into BBQ sauce but I have decided that food is definitely the closest thing I have to a soulmate.

Let me break it down for ya.

At the age of 10, going on holiday to Spain, a good 60% of my diary entries were detailed accounts of what I had eaten instead of what cute Spanish boy we spotted at the pool.

I think this damning review (circa 2004) of an airlines lunch options isn’t too far from what I would write about after a shitty tinder date now:  for lunch there was a choice between a cheese and pickle or a ham and egg mayonnaise, I chose the ham and egg mayonnaise one. It was horrible. I didn’t eat it.

I involuntarily ooh, ahh & mmm when confronted with food on TV. Pointed out most recently by my mum whilst watch Eat, Pray, Love. (Curse Julia Roberts and her tiny jeans) Sounds of pure, indulgent pleasure my friends.

I quite literally earn a living buying sweets. ’nuff said.

If I’m not going to town on food, I’m usually making it. Just me, a mixing bowl & Bob Marley for weekends of baking and quite often a bit of interpretive dance too. Unadulterated bliss!

Clearly I eat, sleep & breathe food so have just given up on finding a man, this is more than enough of a relationship for me ❤

Eat Pray Love

7 Alter-Egos

Sure, we all have different moods, and can be more inclined to eat a tub of ice cream one day and sign up for a half marathon the next, it’s all good. But it can be horrendously confusing all the same when one minute you are willingly diving head first into career commitments and in a blink you’re wondering how the hell you’re going to become a certified yoga master before ‘the grind’ actually kills you.

We all have these different personalities that we embody whole heartedly and I think on some low level this is a form of split personality disorder, but lets just embrace it shall we? Here are my seven alter-egos, sound familiar?

One: The Independent Woman – (That don’t need no man) Controlled, focused, no nonsense girl that doesn’t think twice about rocking a two piece and a firm handshake. All about the profession & progression.
Leslie Knope

Two: The Hot Mess – You will either love or hate her. Forever up for a good time, cocktail, dance, the Hot Mess does not know when to call it a night and war will be declared on anyone that tries to make her.
Lindsay Lohan  Hot Mess

Three: The Earth Child –  Free spirited, oracle following, maxi wearing wannabe hippy child that refuses to take paracetamol because it ‘isn’t natural’ (even if it is to cure a night on the purest of consumables, Jagermeister)
Hippy Simpsons

Four: Fitness Freak – Goes to 5 gym classes and skips pasta for a week and thinks she’s the new Joe Wicks, destined for Millions, all despite being consistently 2 stone over weight.
Work out

Five: The Housewife – Happily spends hours in the kitchen whipping up batches of cupcakes, cookies, or family sized meals. In her head she is a seductive Nigella Lawson character, reality dawns, its more of a Mary Berry situation. No complaints though. Mary is a boss bitch. (This is why Fitness Freak self is never successful!)
Mary berry

Six: The Don’t Give a Fuck – Lacking even a meager scrape of mascara, wears leggings and a sweater to work? She is always late, and stopped making excuses for it years ago. But, it’s all good as far as this girl is concerned. She’s getting shit done regardless.
Jessica Day

Seven: The Loner – After a long week of juggling the perfect combination of personalities, she’s pretty happy to miss out on social engagements and watch Les Miserables on repeat in bed, all. weekend. long.. Asking the all important question…
Who AM I

Growing up with a Resting Bitch Face

So apparently I have been giving the look up and down since I could open my eyes. Old lady squeezing my baby self’s chubby cheeks? Eye roll. Reaching for a high shelf as a toddler, stranger tries to help, “Mind your business lady” (real quote).

If anything I think these show a long standing sense of independence & for the record, I still don’t people squeezing my chub.

As many people have written about before, Resting Bitch Face is not a path that you choose, it is something you are born with. But no one seems to write about what it is like to grow up with it. So here’s my take:

One: As previously mentioned, loosing cute factor with the elderly. You go from a bundle of joy to boulder of contempt in the blink of an eye.
Eye Roll

Two: It took 12 years of life to learn to smile with teeth. Now I’m not entirely sure of if this has anything to do with my teeth being shaped like a smile within a smile pre-braces. But a toothless smile only made me look even more like a sassy little bitch.
Braces Smile

Three: Never being able to get a day off school, because your happy face wasn’t all that different from your sad/sick face.
Un-impressed kid face

Four: Passport Control double checking your passport on the way out of the country, because your actually smiling for once and don’t look like the ring leader of a juvenile gang. Waved straight back through after your flight home though.
passport control

Five: The ability to terrify grown adults. I think it was the silent, calm stare that would be the reply to a cheery question or request. “If looks could kill”, is a phrase that I have had follow me for as long as I can remember. With any luck, it’ll stick around, it holds so much power.
death stare

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5 Reasons Why I Don’t Get Dates

We’ve all had RSI from swiping for too long…haven’t we? The world of Tinder, Bumble and all things modern dating is more than soul destroying the majority of the time.

Regardless of working in London and being a sociable soul, I never meet guys in real life (at all). Not that I have ever been particularly surprised by this, it was even less so after I broke down possible reasons why. Check them out & share if this is you, or any of your friends!

One: Friends 4 Lyf – If I am out with my friends, I am fully engrossed in their company, we like each other, we have fun, I’m never going to take notice of anyone else around me. They are my world.

Sex and the City Friends

Two: Oblivious – “We’re bro’s right?”

Fist Bump

Three: Dancing Queen – I am too busy busting out the dance routine to Lady Gaga’s Telephone. Don’t need no man for that.


Four: Wasted – Too trashed to put a 4-digit pin into a card terminal for a 7th Gin & Tonic? Definitely too trashed to put an 11-digit number in to a strangers phone.


Five: Zero Game – “He’s cute, I should go on a 30 minute tangent about frozen blueberries, we’ll bond over that.”

I Carried A Watermelon

Bitches & Butterflies

Following a spring clean, I came across a box full of old journals that I had written from the age of 8. After laughing myself to tears over various fragments of my coming of age self I couldn’t help but notice parallels to life in my now twenties. The friends, aspirations and the seemingly inevitable dormant relationship status.

Initial thought; people would find this funny.

Secondary thoughts; I was a bit of a bitch, maybe they wouldn’t.

But at the end of the day it is all what got me to where and who I am today. To get a little hippy on ya, it’s all been a part of a transformation. Like caterpillars becoming butterflies. And don’t get me wrong, I’m no butterfly. More like a withered cocoon.

So my goal with this blog is to share my past, present & future to explore what has been & what could be, hopefully with a lot of laughs in between.

Will I share this post, perhaps another two or three and then forget the blog even exists? Possibly. Probably. But for now it is means to pass the time.

Keep in touch.