Tag: vlogging

Ngl, Pregnancy kinda sucks!?

I know its been quite the while since I last posted and promised to be more attentive with the blog but I’ve been fairly busy with my head in a sick bowl.

Whoever said pregnancy is supposed to be the loveliest 9 months of your life was clearly a joker and my previous two pregnancies had me fooled. Now i know the whole concept of pregnancy is so wonderful, a life is growing (extremely slowly and painfully) inside you and your life and body is changing for the better and all that bullshit but to be quite honest, its actually pretty shit isn’t it?

For starters, my handbag has now been emptied of expensive perfume, light coverage makeup for touch ups and all things girly that are assumed to be hiding around in there. Instead I have jars of vitamins, some granny looking headache stick so I don’t go blind from these ‘pregnancy migraines’, foundation thick enough to disguise my appearance completely, and copious amounts of ugly panty liners, cause someones gotta say it, girls the amount of random shit that’s coming out of your vagina is not pre-warned or talked about! Okay you don’t get a period, but you piss yourself every day for  6 months straight if someone makes a joke and lets not discuss the latter. All i’m saying is no period for 9 months is no cause for the sexy thongs, you want those granny pants more than ever!

Every week I get a notification saying what week in my pregnancy I am in and how big the baby is now, which okay is cute, but instead of telling me my baby is now the size of some exotic vegetable ill never eat, how about telling me that at this week my boobs are gonna explode into mismatched bag of potatoes and ill be freeing the nipple for the next 4 months because no bras fit?

You’ll be blooming soon everyone keeps saying, but im struggling to understand how one can bloom without starting the day with a strong coffee or being allowed to devour a whole camembert for lunch?

‘Your skin may start changing now’ the midwife told me at our last appointment to which I was eagerly awaiting the morning I looked in the mirror to discover I was no longer a reincarnated Michael Jackson and my skin was glowing and full of colour. What I seem to have developed instead, is a reptilian trait of shedding my skin every day, my face is literally peeling faster than the snakes that live in the corner of my dressing room. Also, to add to the long list of nice things us pregnant women can’t have, we add hair dye. I was quite happily continuing my façade of being a natural light blonde and ignoring the fact that my hair had turned into a grey brownish colour by keeping up with my roots every few months. The confusion when people tried to work out whether it was my hair or my eyebrows that were the real deal was a much preferred first world problem (both are fake incase you hadn’t worked that out) because now im walking around with proper ‘council house’ hair, it’s a good job its winter because im living in hats so no one knows my true identity. The best thing about us moving to burton is the fact that I am 95% anonymous and I don’t have to bump into anyone I know for them to offer me some change and directions to the nearest St Basils.

We are nearing the midway point of my pregnancy and with that comes the gender reveal, probably the most exciting milestone in the pregnancy and everyone keeps asking me whether I will be finding out. To which the answer is of course I am, I’m not a philistine. I will be spending the rest of my pregnancy hoarding every single gender related item I can, so yes, I will be finding out the sex, (If the second child is a different gender they’ll just have to lump it cause everyone knows you go all out for the first and the second gets the leftovers). However, finding out the gender isn’t all that simple either, especially when your baby thinks your womb is some sort of Guantanamo bay and must escape any detection. It’s hard to tell whether I am feeling them moving, despite the fact the midwife informs me they are constantly wriggling away when she tries to use the doppler, because im not too sure what im expecting to feel? Having Crohns, I have a load of weird feelings inside my body like a Chest-Burster is gonna be born any day (Dropping in Alien references so John shuts the F*&k up) and so its hard to tell what is the baby moving and was is just a fart building up. We have tried many different techniques to try to get the baby to do a 180 just so we can tell the difference between constipation and a baby kick. At around 16 weeks your baby can detect light and will turn away from it, so we have been using our phone torches as some sort of siege to terrorise our child to ‘come out with its hands up.’ (Not literally come out I mean like show yourself, im already having a heart attack thinking about childbirth and ive still got 4 months left).

Finally, its not a secret that with pregnancy comes a whirlwind of hormones, whether it changes physical attributes or your mental state it is important to report any changes to your dr or midwife. But im not sure my midwife was expecting to have such a paranoid pregnant woman on her, when she said you can text me at any time I don’t think she was expecting me to be like a bad smell and be texting her like ‘I’ve had diarrhoea and three farts in one go, is this normal? Is the baby still alive!? Have i gassed them!?’ ‘I’ve got hair growing in weird places, is this normal!?’ ‘I can’t stop eating olives, does this mean my baby will have good skin?’ ‘I rolled onto my back for like 10 seconds, have I killed my child!?” “Can you tell me if it’s a boy or a girl based on my symptoms? Go on! Just give me a guess?!’ Needless to say I bet she is looking forward to me having this baby more than I am. John has gone into a vegetative state of nodding with glazed eyes and saying ‘Yes, everything’s fine, here have some Mcnuggets” (HINT HINT. MCDONALDS SPONSER MY POSTS!)  to shut me up when I’m having a 2007 Britney meltdown.

As usual, I will end the post with a little positive disclaimer, because if you hadn’t already gathered I have a dry sense of humour but some people still seem to think im deadly serious in my posts. Obviously, there are negatives and positives to all pregnancies and I am thoroughly enjoying the experience of becoming a mother and can’t wait for the baby to come despite any nasty symptoms. There are also a hundred different things going on and I cant fit them all into a readable blog post.

*Featured photo designed and shot by Hayley Leaver Photography, click here to see more of her stuff.

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I’m not entirely sure what this post is gonna be about or even going to include but I thought I hadn’t written one in a while so imma try whack one out of these chubby little fingers of mine. As you know I turned 22, it was kind of unavoidable considering I’d plastered it all over social media and I’d promised John if he didn’t get the giant balloons so I can sing Taylor Swift ‘22’ and quote it in a cliché insta caption, then his life wouldn’t be worth living. But he pulled it off blaring it at 5am in the morning.

I spent my actual birthday doing the craziest, wildest shit ever, literally the best day of my life, I spent the morning…wait for it…completing a Sudoku. Not just any Sudoku, the extreme level Sudoku in the take a break mag. Really was a wild 22nd. But mom and dad did surprise me by coming to visit in the afternoon and we had cupcakes and did what civilised people do before I got to change into my ‘I don’t have to uphold a reputation and am free to ruin my life’ persona. My friends came over and we stuffed our faces with posh food, talked about politics and drank prosecco, like how 22 year old adults are supposed to act…(That’s adulting, right?) I’m joking I have the mental age of a 16 year old and go out with a man child so it was just like any other day, we were dicks that drank too much, broke the ‘No smoking we are sophisticated adults now’ ban, argued about Donald trump and slavery, cried about how old we are, wondered how the world began, joked about how we manage to hold down respectable careers, argued over who was paying the bill, bitched about our mutual enemies, smothered our dogs, laughed till we peed, shotted Raki till 6am and I shan’t go any further than that cause I’m sure you’d only love to know what Josie (professional accountant by day) gets up to by night…….

Turns out being 22 is the exact same as being 18 except you wake up with a horrible headache, next to the same man as the night before, a dog that’s pissed all over the floor and weep silently because you spent too much and can’t afford the mortgage. Oh, and a parking fine for parking outside your own house and being too fucked to drive it.

Same shit another year.
On the note of birthdays and friends I have a few blog posts coming up in the future (I’m lazy and they are all half-finished so imma say at least sometime before the year is up) about the lodge me and john spent my birthday week at and another one about “real friends” which is a little controversially honest to say the least, but until then, adios amigos.

xoxo

 

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Back where I belong.

I’ve got a lot of shit on my mind at the minute and it sparked me to decide to write it down, because that’s what I do best, writing. When I was old enough to write I’d make up stories, my dad worked at a printing company and he would bring home a box of blank a5 books for me and Alex to write in and we’d spend hours decorating the front with a title page for whatever shit story we decided this weeks was going to be about, my main debut novel (and I quote) ‘a girl going to Tesco and buying baguettes to go to France.’ I truly was the next Steven King, thrilling stuff.

When I was 13 and obsessed with heroes and prison break and just wondered why the fuck haven’t I got some sexy ass man trying to break out of prison for me, realising the kind of man who actually would be doing that in modern society would be some heroin smack head chav who had a long history of sex crimes and was in £10,000 debt to the JD store. Or when I called up my friend Beth one night (Calling was more efficient for us because our pay as you go bill would not cover the amount of shit we talked) because I realised super powers weren’t real and never in my life would peter petrelli fly to my bedroom window and we’d go ‘save the cheerleader’ together. (Kind of forgotten the point I was making here) oh yeah, I’d write it down.

When I was 19 and in hospital because my need for a Michael Scofield went too far and I ended up with some poor ass 30 yr old pussy who still shared a bedroom with his brother and thought he was hard cause he sniffed coke every night, who ultimately bullied me for 9 months, I wrote it down. With everything in my life I have resorted to writing, it is what I am meant to do and how I make myself feel better. Whether its real life or fiction, I immerse myself with a cute ass notebook and pen or the times new roman of a computer screen and let it out.

The point I’m trying to make by waffling on is that YouTube isn’t my thing, the people that manage my Instagram (Shameless plug here) or blog thought the best way to increase my revenue was to transfer into video content. Yes, I enjoy making videos and I love sharing my life with you all on my insta stories and of course I want to increase my fortnightly pay check so I was going to give it a go. But it’s been two weeks of making the YouTube channel and mentally it just isn’t right for me, it feels fake and staged and it feels like it’s so much hard work for nothing in return, it shows me it just isn’t for me. I get on YouTube you have to flaunt your ‘hypebeast’ vibe or start fake drama by claiming someone sexually assaulted your assistant (yes Jake Paul, you ignorant c*nt I’m talking about you) and that’s what get views, that’s what makes money. But I’m not about to go throwing some fake allegations just to get 10 year olds to watch my videos, I also am not going to sit down and show you all the amazing expensive clothes I’ve bought because it just feels fake. I love watching people’s videos, and it’s their talent, that’s what they are good at, but I’m not good at that, I’m good at writing it down.

I know for my phobia of always quitting things this is just another to tick of the list, but mentally this one is good for me to do. This one is detrimental to my mental health, I am not going to start making videos because it’s just not me, its forced and it shows in the content I make because I’m like the wooden plank from ‘ed, edd and eddy.’ Watching the insights page and subscriber count gets me down and makes me feel shit about myself for not posting the most controversial stuff or having an interesting and rich lifestyle. Instead I am going to continue the YouTube channel, but as a side project, I will do weekly vlogs and that is all because that is all that feels right to me. It feels natural and unstaged and it’s like an online diary of my year for me to look back on. If people decide they want to watch my boring ass life then cool, but I’m not going to take it to heart if you don’t.

And without further ado, if you guys, the people who empower one another, the people who make my day when they share their own experiences, the friends I have made in this community with their own amazing blogs – Trust your gut (Billie), The Alice Edit (Alice, obvs), Mamas Scrapbook (Anna) to name a few – or anyone else, want to follow some waffling posts then, “chatty” things will be on here.  

If you do decide you want to follow my weekly vlogs feel free, you will find them here, but like i said don’t expect them to be that interesting

Thanks guys

xoxo

 

*If you want to learn how to monetise your blog/instagram click on one of the photos below

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