Well this is awkward..

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I always feel so guilty for not blogging for years at a time, but then I remember that I’m literally doing it to get out my emotions and share my thoughts, what do I care if I have 0 or 100,000 readers? If you are one of the select few that actually do enjoy reading my tragic tales then I am so sorry. Its been one hell of a year, and I suddenly have felt this upwelling of emotion that I just need to get out, so I’m going to write and write and write until I feel clean in a sense and ready to start the new academic year. Its going to be long, sad, happy,poetic, dull, exciting but definetely refreshing. I have noticed that my previous posts about my life have been very “moany”, which has made me so happy actually as I don’t think I could do that now. Although the past year has been equally as tragic as some of my worst, it has also been one of the best and I truly do have a new outlook and attitude. SO GET READY GUYS AND GALS AND POTENTIALLY NO ONE BECAUSE THERE’S A SHIT TONNE OF EMOTION COMING YOUR WAY.

To be continued…

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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Brain Power.”

  • I’d use 20% to store more bloody knowledge, I always say that when I’m learning new things I can feel something else falling out which really isn’t useful right now.
  • 30% dedicated to getting some sort of power, probably flight because how insane would that be.
  • 20% would be used to reverse climate change.
  • 10% would be used to bring back species that have been wiped out from human interference.
  • 5% would be used to learn how to paint with water colour properly- I could probably do it now but just don’t have the time or energy to be honest.
  • 5% would be used to teach myself to sleep during the day and whenever I want at night. I swear I lose at least an hour each night trying to get to sleep in the first place and then waking up like 300 times because I heard my Mum break wind next door.

Let’s assume we do, in fact, use only 10% of our brain. If you could unlock the remaining 90%, what would you do with it?

New Years Resolutions

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I love new year. I know there’s a huge population of people who don’t take them serious and believe that you shouldn’t wait for January the 1st to make a change, but for me and many others I’m sure, the idea of a “fresh start” is the right motivation to make any type of changes or plans and stick to them.

Last year I kept my resolutions minimal because I’d been having a pretty rough time and I knew that if I didn’t stick to them I’d just feel even worse about my self, but I think I managed to hit them all very well…

  1. To become more independent. Well, in June I got my first real job that is well paid and has left me with a very healthy bank balance and a group of new friends, and a confidence that I can talk to/ work with new people and take care of my self. Passing my driving test in September, owning a car and paying for everything myself has also been a major aspect of this year and is one of the things I’m most grateful for.
  2. To remove “toxic” relationships. At the beginning of last year I was still in contact with my ex-step dad and I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, I just missed him. Over the year I have learned to realise when a person is taking advantage and when they are genuine, which is something I have struggled with for a long time because I basically am a people pleaser. If someone needs a hand with something I will offer it even if it doesn’t benefit me at all or means me going out of my way, but people will take advantage of you and see you as a push over. I stopped talking to my step dad and have cut ties with old friends who only talk to me now for lifts around or whatever, which has saved me a small fortune in petrol as well… two birds one stone.
  3. Get my self-esteem back. Speaks for itself, I was in a complete rut this time last year. Not making an effort to go out and enjoy myself,hating my appearance and my personality.Its fair to say I’ve nailed this one on the head. I still have bad days, but going out is something I enjoy now and overall my opinion of myself is x10 better than it was.

So just to sum up my resolutions for this year…

  1. Travel to a new place. Already have plans for this one! Am off to Iceland in March with my Geography class. Paid for my ticket myself, which was only possible thanks to my job at Iceland (the irony). I also have 3 weeks work experience in June at Gweek in Cornwall which I’m so excited for.
  2. Go to more concerts. Have plans for this one too! Have a weekend planned in February for my boyfriend*** and I for my 18th birthday to see the script at the LG and then we are staying in the Hilton hotel, its going to be very odd as we aren’t a sophisticated couple in the slightest, we think a meal in Nando’s is high class haha. I’m determined to see One Republic as well when they next tour.
  3. Keep track of my bank account. Isn’t it customary to have a boring practical resolution? I never keep m my receipts or check anything in my account which is tres stupide.
  4. Don’t have a complete breakdown over A levels. Probably the most important, I always put way too much pressure on myself and it never ends positively, this year I’m going to work hard and do my best, but not kill myself over exams.
  5. Get back to my creative side. Since sixth form work, revision and trying to fit in any form of social life has made doing anything creative impossible. I used to write believe it or not, when I was about 13 my favourite hobby was writing and I wrote a novel about a girl called Lacey Jones and I got very into it and was genuinely quite sad when I had finished and even began a sequel. So I think it might be nice to give that another go, as well as get back to drawing (and blog more!)

So yeah, 2015 appears to be a pretty good year if all go’s to plan!

*** little catch up with the boyfriend situation, we decided we’d give it another go on Christmas Eve. I’m not going to lie and say I am delighted yet (purely based on how I was being treated in the run up to our breakup), but I do know that I love the bones of that boy, and we have gotten through a lot worse so we can do this no problemo…

Some of my favourite memories.

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Finally I have a fully operating laptop, not one that decides to explode half way through an essay, so I’m back! A lot has happened, I won’t bore you with the details but the long and short of it is I’m single for the first time in 3 years and I’m at that awkward stage where one minute I want to run down the road naked and the next I want to cry into a pint of ben and jerrys. Having to bottle up my feelings at school and act as if I don’t care that I mean nothing to the one person who I trusted with my life is such a wierd feeling. Sometimes I genuinely feel ok because he’s been such a twat and I deserve so much more, and I feel happy in a way that I can do what I want and not have to justify it to anyone, or listen to the horrible and hurtful things he says without thinking. But then I start thinking, missing hearing him laugh and holding my hand and it floods back. So I’ve been doing my best to keep busy and distracted but this is one I thought I’d share. For the past couple of days I’ve been transferring all my images from my dinosaur of a PC to my grand-spanking new one and, me being the sentimental, soppy idiot that I am, have decided to publish some of my favourites. This has certainly cheered me up if nothing else…

Holly and I.

Holly and I.

Snuggles with baby bro.

Snuggles with baby bro.

My cousins are just incredible.

My cousins are just incredible.

Lucas and I with Holly and Willow.

Lucas and I with Holly and Willow.

Tubing is so much fun, even if I did nearly lose a nipple.

Tubing is so much fun, even if I did nearly lose a nipple.

That water.

That water.

Photobombing with Pina Coladas's since 2010

Photobombing with Pina Coladas’s since 2010

Bad asses with temporary tats on a floating bar, this was the day I learned that most men are pigs.

Bad asses with temporary tats on a floating bar, this was the day I learned that most men are pigs.

There is a hole in the boat.

There is a hole in the boat.

Cousins jumping into barracuda infested water.

Cousins jumping into barracuda infested water.

At a full moon party in Antigua.

At a full moon party in Antigua.

Body boarding is such a rush.

Body boarding is such a rush.

Bude with my girls.

Bude with my girls.

First time riding a horse.

First time riding a horse.

In my favourite place ever, Bude.

In my favourite place ever, Bude.

Made a mermaid on a beach and got a medal.

Made a mermaid on a beach and got a medal.

Twerkin since 11.

Twerkin since 11.

I don't care if Guy is in this picture, this pretty much sums up our family.

I don’t care if Guy is in this picture, this pretty much sums up our family.

Selfie with Cyprus.

Selfie with Cyprus.

Sitting in an estuary in Doniford bay.

Sitting in an estuary in Doniford bay.

Eating Eggy bread in France.

Eating Eggy bread in France.

That time in first school when I dressed up as Cruella Devil for non uniform day.

That time in first school when I dressed up as Cruella Devil for non uniform day.

Selfie with London bridge.

Selfie with London bridge.

Selfie with London.

Selfie with London.

With my hero Jim Carrey, regardless if he is made of wax.

With my hero Jim Carrey, regardless if he is made of wax.

Fishing at 10.

Fishing at 10.

Leanne and I on a fishing trip in Devon.

Leanne and I on a fishing trip in Devon.

My first boyfriend, a holiday romance- he was genuinely a lovely person.

My first boyfriend, a holiday romance- he was genuinely a lovely person.

Mother and I on a "sea saw"

Mother and I on a “sea saw”

Epic tan line in Turkey.

Epic tan line in Turkey.

How grand were my boobies at 12!

How grand were my boobies at 12!

At a water park in Turkey.

At a water park in Turkey.

Nan and puppy Solo.

Nan and puppy Solo.

The lovely ladies in my life.

The lovely ladies in my life.

First holiday with Dad.

First holiday with Dad.

That time Katie and I made a pig cake.

That time Katie and I made a pig cake.

My cousin is probably my favourite person in the world.

My cousin is probably my favourite person in the world.

I was a stylish baby.

I was a stylish baby.

Old buddies.

Old buddies.

My first day of high school and Lu's first day of middle school.

My first day of high school and Lu’s first day of middle school.

RIP our fab trampoline.

RIP our fab trampoline.

My weird ass family, please ignore my knickers.

My weird ass family, please ignore my knickers.

Trip to escargot-land

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My cousin and I are way to similar, like its ridiculous. We have the same stupid sense of humour and like the same things, so its fair to say when we are together we have such a laugh. Only problem is, she lives an hour and a half away and as we both work over the weekends, we only see each other once maybe twice a year. Over the summer we decided that we should make some quality time together before we both go off to university next year, so we booked two tickets to Dinard, France for a week to stay with our grandparents. I was sceptical about staying with them based on my trip there last year with my Dad. We were the first visitors since Grandy had been given the all clear from his bowel cancer, but he was still in a lot of physical and emotional pain and nan had been distracting herself from the stress by cleaning the house (sterilizing is probably a better word) thoroughly every day and took huge pride in it. Obviously 5 people moving in to their guest house cause slight disruption in the set up and if we so much as left a scrabble tile out, she lost it. Saying it wasn’t a relaxing break is understatement of the year and in the end my Dad booked tickets for us to leave early. I guess I understood why they were so tense, as Nan had to deal with Grandy’s illness alone and it had obviously put strains on their relationship- but at the end of the day, they chose to isolate themselves from their families and move abroad, I just wasn’t expecting such huge changes in their personalities.But I figured, as Grandy’s on the mend, maybe things will be different?

We left Redditch at 3:45am on Sunday morning and set off for the 3 hour journey to Stanstead airport. My dad isn’t the best with following sat-navs and likes to make his own way, so we got to the airport with 30 mins before departure. Luckily enough we got through check-in, baggage drop-off and security pretty quickly so went to get some breakfast from boots. After we looked to find our gate… “56”, on the other side of the bloody airport. Fair to say, running across an airport inst an easy task with 2 big bags and a huge coat on, but we got there 20 minutes late and joined the back of the queue (I don’t know why we rushed, Ryanair isn’t exactly the most reliable or attentive airline) On-board, it was absolutely rammed and looked more like one of these Indian aircraft’s you see with a capacity of 50 and there’s 100 people on and chickens are running up and down the isle. With a short flight of 45 minutes, we had landed by the time I’d finished my breakfast wrap.

Nan and Grandy picked us up from the airport, they seemed chatty enough and Grandy looked a lot healthier than the last time i’d seen him. We squeezed into their mini and began the 2 and a half hour journey back to Calais. At the house, not much has changed, the lounge still needs plastering from two years ago but the cushions have been reapulstured, I offer to help but Grandy says “Oh no, if all of the work was done then what would we do with our days?”. I love their house, they are at the end of a small village where everyone knows one another. Across the road is Dave and Davina, a couple from Manchester who have lived here for 6 years with their sons Curtis and Jordan (Jordan is bloody gorgeous but we wont go into that). Further down there’s Emi and Alexi, two elderly French women who are either sisters or just best friends I’ve never really asked, who love to speak to me and Em in French  and give us bon-bons whenever they see us. Opposite from them is Pipi, a very strange French man who loves to confuse us by speaking his own hybrid language of French and German. Then there’s Kelly and Bob, a couple who own 4 guest houses that they rent to people on holiday. It is because of them that Nan and Grandy live here. My Mum, Dad, Lucas and I used to stay with them years and years ago, when I was about 5 and I’ve got some amazing memories from this place, and if mum hadn’t told Nan about the “for sale sign” at the end of the road, they’d probably still be in England.

Anyway, we spent the remainder of the day lazing around before taking a short trip to the “Intermarche”, an amazing place full of incredible French food and clothes (yes, the French equivalent of Tesco’s) we bought about 70 euros worth of nutella, pancakes, baguettes, cheese and crab sticks and chilled in the garden with platters of goodness.

Next day, I woke up with an incredible pain in my stomach, the hate of all men on my mind and a hunger for chocolate in my belly. Shit. Not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, but I haven’t had a period in a year and a half and have been told by numerous doctors that they may not come back, and if not, then I can never have children. This has basically depressed me for a very long time- whenever my mum and step dad have treated me like crap in the past I’ve always said to myself “when i have a baby things will be different”, but since I was diagnosed infertile, honestly, I’ve just felt like a sad excuse for a woman. I had been having mysterious boob pains and mood swings for a few weeks before, but when I was packing I didn’t want to bring any “supplies” for fear that it may jinx it, but bugger me it was happening. I’m not exaggerating when I say I have never been so happy in my life, I have been given another chance to have a baby in the future and a period is never something I’ll take for granted again.

With limited entertainment and not being able to get anywhere, Em and I had the opportunity to spend some quality time together. We spent 3 maybe 4 hours every day going on walks around the village, fields and forests. I don’t have many close friends, but me and Em can just be ourselves and we found a field and just lay in the grass for hours talking about our worries. It literally felt like such a clear out of emotions, she ranted about her recent breakup with her boyfriend and I did about my stressed relationship (will give updates later) and about family worries and it felt so odd, like the combination of just being in a huge field on a sunny day looking down onto the village there was just this weird sense of freedom and being totally relaxed, we just let all of our worries out and then that was it, we didn’t have to worry about them any more.

Later in the week, the oldies took us out for a meal at a little French restaurant in town,where I ordered scallop gratan with a cheesy sauce, shrimp and rice.  Being around the French, drinking wine and sharing bread felt so odd, like I could see myself living here and doing this everyday (if it wasn’t so bloody expensive). After, we wondered around the market and I bought a new wooden wind chime to add to my room and used the opportunity to get some more snaps with the family before we left for the airport.

The journey home was fairly uneventful, other than being felt up at security and interrogated at customs. All in all, it was just a really relaxing escape, a great way of spending some time with my beautiful cousin and I was reassured that Nan and Grandy are slowly getting back to themselves and no longer is cancer the main topic of conversation.

(A small update on the boyfriend situation; I think the break did us the world of good, although I felt bad leaving him with his bust leg. We’ve talked and came to the conclusion that its ok for us to disagree sometimes. People have always found it weird that we’ve had such a long relationship at such a young age, even one of my “friends” has said that we’re too good to be true behind my back. No too people are the same, so we’re bound to clash occasionally but we’ve stepped back and looked at our entire relationship and not just the past month. I love him, I can see myself being with him for the rest of my life, but every relationship is tested and that what has happened. If we’re meant to be together then we can get through uni and be happier the other side, all it will take is effort on both of our parts. He’s literally my best friend, he knows everything about me and I think that’s what I was more scared about losing, but that’s not going to happen any time soon. We make each other laugh way too much, he makes me feel better about everything and I’m always there to help him with anything, we have something incredible and as long as that stays, we’re going to be absolutely brilliant)

The university dilemma.

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Since first school, I have always been very academically driven. Even throughout middle school when I was arguably with the wrong crowd, I always made sure my school work was 100% perfect, and if it wasnt or I got a poor mark on a piece of homework I’d redo it off my own back and send it in to be remarked. I guess I’ve always just been an over achiever, never really understood when people have felt the need to act stupid or dim for attention, and just found it necessary to work my ass of in school without being driven by teachers or my parents. To some extent it’s probably my moms fault I am this way, having grown up hearing her complain about doing work she hates to do because she pissed around in school so much, but either way it’s just a trait I’ve gained that will probably benefit me the most in life.

This trait helped me out hugely in my GCSES’ getting me better than expected results, but recently I feel like my ability and motivation for my A levels is flagging dramatically and I know exactly who to blame. Since we returned to Sixth form in September, its been non stop pressure and being constantly reminded that we only have 6 months of learning left before we open to enveloped to find out “fait”… have we been accepted into university. I personally don’t work well under pressure of any sort. During my GCSE’s there was so much crap going on in my life. I was battling anorexia, bulimia, and more significantly my family and I were homeless and living in a cramped house with my interfering grandmother. I had got it into my head that I was absolutely going to fail- but I revised my ass off anyway to distract myself from the war in my head. Everyone around me who cared for me and understood my situation kept telling me, “No matter how you do, you will still be successful and loved”, because they knew I was going to fail too. There was no pressure on me, only the pressure I put on myself to prove everyone wrong.  Hence my delight  when I opened that envelope, to see I was one of the top 15 in the school.

But this year its different, like the sudden reality of the stresses of adulthood have caught up with me. If it’s not teachers going on at me for ridiculous amounts of homework, essays, presentations and mock exams already, its pressure from work and earning enough money to run my car, pay my insurance, sort out my university applications, self teach most of my subjects due to shit teaching this year, consider the terrible thought of resits,  continue to battle the bitch in my head that says I’m fat and ugly, whilst trying to find time for myself and my boyfriend. Its hard, and incredibly stressful and I’m not going to lie- caused a mini breakdown this weekend. It got too much, I had 4 exams to revise for, 3 essays to do and I only have less than a year to spend with my boyfriend before we have to go separate ways for uni. I spent three days in my room, panicking about my future and frantically applying for full time jobs in Aldi and Llyods banks because I was sure that I was going to drop out of sixth form on Tuesday. It was slightly scary how ready I was to waste the past 14 years of education, on a couple of bad days.

After  a decent 5 hour business revision session I’ve got myself back into a healthier and more motivated state of mind, by telling myself to ignore the outside pressure of teachers, money and worries that might happen in the future, because the fear of things happening shouldn’t affect how I live now. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one worrying. Me and my boyfriend have been having a bit of trouble recently. For a couple who never argue to be constantly niggling away at each other, picking fights and not making time, to say its been hard is an understatement. He’s told me that he is trying to get used to not being with me because this time next year we probably wont be together. I don’t even know what to think, because for me the thought of not being with him is enough to make me not want to go to university, an I’d rather not think about it at all and enjoy what time we do have instead of spending It upset about the future. I never knew this would happen, when I told him I liked him I had no idea that three years on we would be so close, talking about marriage and kids and what dogs we would have and now- it feels like its all being ripped from underneath me and he doesn’t want to even try to make it work. I guess I just thought that if he really loved me and what we have had, he’d fight for me… and I don’t know if he will or not.

I don’t know what’s going to happen, he’s been there for me through everything- he’s seen me at my worst and best and I’m not ready for this to end, I don’t know if I ever will be. We both just want time to stop so we can be happy as we have been without having to face this crap, but we can’t and the uncertainty is killing me inside.

Sorry to be such a downer, just feel utter shite.

25 things you definitely didn’t know about me

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Haven’t posted anything in about two weeks, having major PC problemos, but hopefully I’ve sorted it for now so I’ll be back posting once a week. Have so much I want to write about but first I thought I should say thank you to al of my wonderful followers, it’s so weird that so many people enjoy reading about my wired life. So I thought I’d give you all an opportunity to learn some more strange quirks about me, enjoy!

  1. I have a phobia of knives. I don’t know, maybe its just sharp things or a trust thing but if anyone is holding a knife I need to be at least 10ft away or I will go ninja on your ass.
  2. I love my hair being played with. The best feeling in the world is when Brad brushes my hair omg heaven.
  3. The worst feeling is anyone holding my wrists or ankles, literally makes me feel sick to my stomach and I don’t understand why.
  4. I could live off bananas. And nutella. I swear that stuff is made by gods.
  5. I love working and being busy. My idea of hell is having a day on the sofa and if I do I get very restless and end up going on really long runs.
  6. Earning money and having a happy bank balance makes me very happy and that worries me a lot. I don’t think it makes me shallow, I just think I like the security of saving money and I rarely spend anything on myself. Like honestly, I’ve had the same school trousers for 3 years…
  7. I hate alcohol, but love being drunk. If you ever see me drinking you’ll see me hold my nose because the taste is enough to make me sick. My hangovers are brutal and usually involve me over  bucket for the entire day, regardless of how much I drank the night before.
  8. My hair colour is very important to me. Its naturally very dark but I feel like dark hair makes my face look fat, probably doesn’t but my body image is very warped so I don’t know. I really like it blonde but it grows so fast and my roots are horrendous after one week and its an absolute ball ache.
  9. My hands are abnormally small.
  10. I have 8 or more cups of tea a day.
  11. I am in love with Laura Prepon and I don’t care who knows.
  12. My favourite place in the world is in the red sea. I just love how the only thing you can hear is your own breathe and the bubbles coming from the gas tank and its like another world under there.
  13. Id love to run a little boutique shop down in Cornwall or a little bakery and that’s something that’s definitely on my bucket list.
  14. I get on better with boys than I do with girls.
  15. I got my wrist tattoo done in Egypt, I plan on getting a small tattoo from every amazing country I travel to.
  16.  I hate the show man vs food. I love Adam Richman but its such a criminal waste of food.
  17. I’m a complete nerd when it comes to the planet, nature and animals. I love nothing more than snuggling up on a Sunday afternoon with a whale documentary.
  18. Monkeys and apes freak me out, they are just too human but without speech and that’s creepy.
  19. I’ve had well over 30 pets in my life, the most exotic being a bearded dragon called Elvis. She was awesome.
  20. I was offered a job as a tattoo artist but turned it down because of my A levels.
  21. My immune system is non existent and I have sine form of cold or illness every couple of weeks.
  22. My sexuality confuses me a lot.
  23. My hair and nails grow weirdly fast.
  24. I really want to have kids in the future but am worried that I wont like them because other kids annoy me. I already have a list of names made up (Savanah, Olivia or Kiara for a girl, and Oscar or Sebastian for a boy).
  25. I don’t let people know the real Abi until they really get to know me and I feel 100 percent confident around them, i’m literally  a freak I should probably be in a home somewhere.

That was actually really hard to do so I challenge anyone to do it too. I hope you enjoyed learning a bit more about me!

Manipulation.

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You ever been in a situation that has made you so angry at someone’s stupidity and blindness to what they are doing? That’s me right now, so prepare yourself for a bitchy rant. I’m not much of a bitcher, but this has really annoyed me so I’m going to get it out.

Oxford dictionary defines manipulation as the control or influence over a person or situation cleverly or unscrupulously, which sums it up pretty well but its much more than that. It is a very dangerous tool that people have learned to master in order to get what they want. The reason I’m bringing this up now is because a friend of mine had recently broken up with her boyfriend, a complete and utter tool who controlled her every move. Apart from going to work, she’s not allowed to go out and live her life without his permission. He had to know where she was, what she was doing and who she was with 24/7 and if she did something without his say so, he’d twist the situation around and make her feel like she was in the wrong and so she’d apologise to him, beg for his forgiveness. Now that is manipulation. Anyway, they broke up because she couldn’t stand it anymore- understandable and we all stood by her. However, after a drunken evening at my place she foolishly invited him round, took him up to my bed room and had a quick fling. In my bed. Needless to say they were kicked out before either of them could button up their jeans, but now I’m in a really tough situation.

On the one hand, she was very drunk, unaware of what she was doing and didn’t purposely have sex with him in my bed (he has made it apparent to me that it was him that suggested it) and I’m more than sure that he is a manipulative bastard who will have told her what she wanted to hear in the moment. Probably promised her he’s changed or some other bullshit but when you’re drunk any form of positive comment can give you the urge to whip of their clothes.

On the other hand, she has shown a complete and utter lack of respect for me, but more importantly herself. And I’m not just talking about having sex in someone else’s bed, but also getting back together with someone who tried to control her every move. We’ve tried talking to her about it before- she’s stunning and could do so much better- yet she settles for this low life who has got her into smoking and convinces her to shag in inappropriate places. Not only this, but she hasn’t apologised to me for her actions. The boy has sent me a long winded and incredibly patronising message apologising on her behalf, but honestly if she was a decent friend and a good person at least then she should have the decency to at least show some regret for what she has done. Having said that, no amount of “sorry” will get the image of his balls on my bed sheet out of my head. I had to sleep in that bed for Christ sake.

Anyway, this wasn’t just intended for a rant, although I do feel a lot better having got that off my chest. I have been on the receiving end of a manipulative relationship for a very long time. The funny and incredibly ironic danger is I didn’t know it was happening. That’s how good he was at it. For years things went on and because I was told it was fine- it was fine. Fortunately I don’t have to live with it any more, although I’m afraid the effects of this on my mental health will probably be long term, but it really does make you think. If you were living with someone who made you do something that wasn’t pleasant or natural in any way, but at the same time showed you love and attention that you crave at a young age- does it become ok? I know now that it wasn’t ok, but had it have carried on would I be any different, would I still be blind to how wrong it was? Scary to think, and that’s what I’m worried about with my friend. She says they’ve got into fights bad enough that there has been physical violence. And that’s definitely not ok.

I don’t know, I’m at cross roads. I want to talk to her and try to convince her that she can do better and what he’s done/doing isn’t acceptable or normal in any relationship. I want her to be happy and she’d definitely not happy the majority of the time their together. But at the same time, she doesn’t seem to want help. I’ve talked to her before and told her that she doesn’t have to put up with this stalking and obsessive behaviour and she’s agreed 100%, but goes straight back to him and invites him back with open arms. She loves him, its a weird love that I can only describe as she loves the undivided- and I mean undivided attention she gets, which is scarily similar to how I felt. I don’t think she’ll ever leave him. Its just incredibly frustrating seeing what’s happened to me before happen to someone else and they don’t want to get out. The best way I can deal with this is exclude myself from the situation, if I cant see it- it wont bring back those memories. Even if that means losing a friend.

But hey, what type of friend shags their ex butt naked in their mates bed anyway? No friend of mine.

An uneventful wedding

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I’m having a very lazy Monday because I’m absolutely shattered, have been working non stop10329075_10204702175216343_93228969117159058_n and on my feet for most of the summer so far so I think I deserve a day of peace before it all starts again. Yesterday was the day my step mother got the day she has been waiting for for almost 10 years- that we were all sure wasn’t going to come- her and my fathers wedding day.

She is much younger than Dad, and wants nothing more than to settle down with more kids and get married whilst my Dad has, and I quote, “already been there, done that”, referring to his first marriage with my mum and the fathering of my brother and I. I’ll be completely honest, I’m not convinced that this wedding wasn’t just a way to shut her up and make her happy, and that’s not just based on the fact  that although my Dad earns a large salary the ceremony, reception and disco was all held at the same small venue two minutes away from their house, but also the guests who came. Dad only had a total of 4 guests and that’s including my brother and I who technically weren’t guests but the page boy and bridesmaid. The other two guests were my aunt and cousin who later informed me that they were never actually invited, but the wedding came up in conversation and they asked if they should probably be there. So I assume that Dad wasn’t all too bothered about who attended, whilst Jo had all her family, friends and colleagues there.

The day started at 9am, I was dropped off at he hotel by my Dad, who didn’t speak to me the entire journey. He’s an odd bloke, arrogant and above everyone else and acts like nothing phases him. Always going 10 above the speed limit and constantly on the phone to his colleagues talking about who they should fire next, just cause’ they can. He throws his money around like he’s got it on tap and uses it to get exactly what he wants. The rules have never applied to him, yet he’s always landed on his feet. People like this frustrate me at the best of times, so its fair to say that although we have some similar traits, we are two very different people.

Arriving at the venue, I was swept up in a cyclone of frantic bridesmaids. Nothing was done, the ceremony room was yet to be decorated, the restaurant was still filthy from breakfast and Jo was outside smoking. I was quickly thrown into a chair and my hair was under attack from an army of backcombs and curling tongs. Personally, at my wedding it will be more a case of the bridesmaids having their hair how they want, as long as its not nicer than mine or some off the rainbow shade of pink. It then dawned on me that the women in charge of my hair were actually all barbers, and god were they barbers for a reason. By the time they had finished I looked like I was a 12 year old girl about to take part in a beauty pageant in Tennessee. Half of my hair was up in a half bun and the remains were tightly curled and left to hang lifelessly on my neck.

Half way through having my hair destroyed

Half way through having my hair destroyed

Disaster. I am sure that Jo did this on purpose, she wanted me to look hideous. We had a weirder relationship than my father and I. She isn’t much older than me but I see her more like a step sister that I have to be nice to. She has no morals, I don’t know maybe I’m still bitter about the fact that my dad cheated on my mum with her and got her pregnant before my Dad had even moved out. Normally I’d feel like a bad person for thinking this, but honestly I just think it makes me human. I can see it from her side either, it must be awkward for her being around her fiancés children knowing full well that she is the reason we are fatherless, but like I said, that’s her and my dads fault.

Jo stood back to admire her work, disgusting. She smiled and said perfect. I grinned, got up, went into the bathroom and cried my eyes out. She knows that my self confidence is shot at the moment, why was she doing this? Anyway after a short 10 minute breakdown, I decided that she wasn’t going to win this one. She needed to understand that if we are going to be in each others lives, she’s going to have to realise that she has nothing over me, she took my Dad, the least she could do is give me decent hair for the wedding. I wasn’t even trying to impress anyone, it was the principal now. I grabbed the remaining curls of hair, twisted them up and pinned them underneath the bun, making it all look like it was one large updo. It actually looked half decent. I went out of the bathroom acting like nothing had changed, she didn’t say anything but the look of defeat on her face was precious.

The wedding itself was average, I walked down first and caught eyes with my boyfriend who was sitting behind my brother and cousin. Don’t fucking trip now, you may look like a hippo wrapped in purple cling film and high heels but you still have your dignity. I sat down with them, turned to my boyfriend who mouthed to me “You look beautiful”. My Dad looked his usual self, trying to hide feelings he “doesn’t have” and look above everyone else. I noticed behind them on a desk was a laptop with Skype open, and could see the distinct faces of my grandparents who were watching from Skype. Nothing eventful happened during the ceremony, other than my granddad shouting “HIYA!” during the silence when Jo was walking down the isle. Classic Grandy.

After the wedding there was just a buzz of photographs and champaign, that id already had 4 or 5 glasses of and was feeling slightly tipsy already. After, there was a lot of waiting around. I was properly reunited with my cousin, Emily and my Aunty Andrea. They are probably the nicest girls I have ever met and we have so much in common, we talked non stop and caught up which was nice. I only see Em once maybe twice a year due to distance, which is really sad because I don’t really get on with any other girl like I do with her, I think its mutual when I say that if we were closer we would be best friends.

The meal was bog standard. Dad had forgotten about my gluten intolerance and Em’s vegetarianism and had served a bread and mozzarella salad to start, a chicken and white wine sauce with veg for the main and profiteroles for desert. I wasn’t hungry due to being squeezed into a corset and my stomach being restricted to 1/4 of its original size, but I ate what I could. I have honestly never felt so uncomfortable. All off my boobage was spilling over the top of my dress and I couldn’t really twist or bend without pain, plus being surrounded by people that were wearing nice, normal floaty dresses was getting my anxiety high.

Dads speech was something to behold. Again he thought he could wing his way through it, like everything else. I recall him comparing her to his car, which didn’t impress her much understandably. The best man speech was dragged out and everyone was pretty much ready to go home by the end of it. He ended by wishing them luck on their honeymoon to North Wales, which confused us all because they were going to the South of France, but after a couple of minutes of Dad calling him an idiot he retaliated by saying “Sorry, Rob just told me he was going to Bangor for a week” (say it fast and it sounds like bang her)

After the meal there was a lot of sitting around doing a fat lot of nothing. Tea and coffee was offered, and when me and Em went go make our tea, Em left hers on the edge of the table whilst she got some milk. The duty manager came over with the cake cut up onto strips and leant across the table to put it on an empty space, meanwhile obliviously dunking her blazer pocket into Em’s tea. We both saw and just looked at each other before breaking out in hysterics. She moved away from the table and must have felt the sodding wet pocket dripping and said “I’ve dunked it in haven’t I!” before apologizing relentlessly and offering to make her a new one, to which Em said “No don’t worry, I’m sure it doesn’t taste of jacket”. Bugger me, she drank it and critiqued it by saying it was a subtle blend of china and pocket fluff. Probably the highlight of the evening.

A couple of hours passed, and emphasis shifted to alcohol. Fair to say my Dad was absolutely hammered by the time the first dance came around. It wasn’t a dance but more of a public grope that went on far too long. Afterwards the dance floor remained empty, apart from my Dad who had judging by the smell lost control of his bowels and was running around breaking wind, swearing at people and drinking more than a thirsty horse. Time for us to leave, we thought at half 9.

If anything this wedding has given me an idea of what my wedding WON’T be like, I now know that that my Dad shouldn’t be given alcohol when the windows are closed, and tea tastes a bit better when you dunk a strangers pocket in it. Not a completely wasted day then.