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In case you’re wondering 

Hi

I don’t know if we’ve met before, whether we’ve walked past each other in the corridor, or rolled our eyes at each other during a particularly boring morning assembly, maybe we’ve had an actual conversation in the past. Regardless, you mean so much to me. The fact that we were in the same school, that you and I  had the same teachers and were part of the same fraternity is enough for me to care deeply for you. 

Baby, I know exactly how you feel. We mess up sometimes, we make mistakes and we get caught. The guilt sometimes is unbearable, the fear is even worse. We’ve all been there. We’ve all contemplated giving up. We’ve thought about how easy it would be to just call things off. But, if my eighteen years of existence has taught me anything, it’s that nothing is as bad as it seems. The silver lining you hear people talking about? It exists. 

With every difficult situation life throws at you, you have a choice. You can choose to give into temptation and give up, or you can rise above it. You, my friend have the power and the strength to rise above. 

There will be people out there who take you for granted, who don’t take you seriously. There will be people who will base their entire judgement of you on one poor decision. You mustn’t let their insensitivity and idiocy get to you. You are so much more. The beauty of life baby, is that you get to decide what defines you, and one bad decision most certainly does not. 

Surround yourself with people who love you. Remember that your family loves you unconditionally. Had something happened to you, they’d never get over it. To them, you’re truly perfect. Regardless of the mistakes you’ve made, they will forgive you and help you to grow. 

Mistakes are an integral part of growing up, my love. Accept yours and move past them. Life is all about perspective, things that really bother you today might not even matter tomorrow. Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING works out in the end. 

I’m not exactly the best person to give you advice and I don’t want you to think of this as advice. You might not even read this. I just want you to know that as cliched as it sounds, you’re not alone. Were all searching for that silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel, and one day we will find it. Don’t give up now baby, you’re almost there. 

The F word

Everyone has that one thing that bothers them more than it should. For some it’s a slightly disproportionate nose, or a muffin top, it could even be something as stupid as a mole next to your eye  or an odd birth mark . It’s usually something that no one sees but you, and what you see is usually far worse than what it really is.  Somehow, you’re able to mentally mutilate this tiny, rather insignificant blemish and turn it into an exaggerated, amplified version of what it was to begin with.

My weakness has always been my weight. That’s not to say I’m obese or anything, I’m what they call “full-figured” . I hate the fact that it bothers me so much because overtly I’m all for being confident of who you are and how you look , but deep down only I know how insecure I am about my body. Somehow subconsciously I’v bought into that cover girl- tall-skinny-booby idea of perfection the media has been selling to us ever since the invention of fashion magazines, even though I’m fully aware of the fact that the girls on the covers of those magazines and in the movies, and on TV  look the way they do because of extensive airbrushing and photoshopping.

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“oh, theres this new gym down the road, we should go!,” or “Oh, girls like us really have to work hard to maintain our figures na,”  seemingly innocent comments like these, would invoke my inner beast and send me into fits of inexplicable rage that would usually end with me and the poor soul who decided to talk to me, crying in a pool of blood.

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At a very good friends party the other day, I met a boy. A reasonably attractive boy at that. I was dancing and just generally having a great time with my friends, when said hot boy decided to dance next to me. I asked him whether he was in the twelfth grade too, he said he was. He asked me where I studied, I told him. He cracked a lame science joke, I tittered politely. He started to take selfies with my friend who was hosting the party, I was standing about half a meter away, so he asked me to join too. I thought, oh what the hell, and joined them.

A few hours later, the host and I were sitting in her room post party, when the boy texted her, asking her to call him ASAP. He asked her to make sure she was alone. Obviously, she switched on speaker phone and we waited expectantly as the phone rang.

“hey, there was this girl at the party, in a black dress,” I looked down at what I was wearing, and caught my breath. GREAT DAY TO WEAR BLACK!

“Not S******, the other one,”

omgomgomg hot boy wants me!!!!

“the slightly fat girl, yeah, give me her number.”

WHAT. THE. FUCK. 

 I wanted to grab the phone and hurl it out of an open window. My friend looked up at me nervously and immediately turned off speaker phone.

I went home seething, who did he think he was, calling me fat. He wasn’t even that hot. Jerk.

But a few hours of ice cream induced self reflection and I thought, does it really matter?

Maybe I’m not thin,

Maybe my rather ample bottom, wont ever fit into 24″ waist jeans,

Maybe my stomach wasn’t made for ab lines,

SO WHAT?

Nobody’s perfect, not even Beyonce.

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WHY.

When I was ten years old, I was idealistic and innocent, as one would expect a ten year old to be. My perception of the world was hugely sugar coated. The story I’m about to tell you is from a time far before I understood the intricacies of human behaviour and relationships. This was a time when the world as I saw it, was simple and clear cut. There were good people and there were bad people. Friends and enemies. Black and white. I made friends easily, and I didn’t care where I made them. One such friend, was the liftman in our building.

He was new and I was curious. I went up to him and asked him his name, he told me his and asked for mine. That’s how we became friends. At least that’s what I thought we were. He would be there when I got home from school and would ask me about my day on our way up to the eighth floor. I would give him elaborate answers, describing my teachers, my friends, unnecessary details that were of no consequence to him. He would pay attention, nod sagely when I told him about something I learned in school, shake his head when I spoke about a fight with a friend. This went on for months and everything was great. But then things started to get weird.

A few months into my new found “friendship”, the liftman started to stand uncomfortably close to me while we were on our way up. I was young, the lift wasn’t particularly large, I presumed space constraints were the reason behind this sudden proximity. But I grew silent. I would stand there either anxiously looking down at my feet or up at the screen where the transition of floor numbers suddenly seemed painfully slow.

A few days later, on my way back home, I ran into him downstairs. He accompanied me into the elevator and smiled widely. I pretended not to notice, and fidgeted with the zipper on my bag. Again, he inched closer to me as the elevator doors slowly closed. He began to rub the side of his thigh, but the fact that he was practically pressed against me meant that his hand was running up and down the side of my leg. I was confused and scared. So scared. It didn’t take a particularly long time to get to the eighth floor, probably just a minute or so. But I was terrified. I got out as fast as I could and furiously rang the doorbell. My mom and dad were at work, so our housekeeper answered the door. She saw how petrified I looked and asked me what happened. I told her.

Fifteen minutes later my parents were downstairs with the police. That was the first time I saw my dad throw a punch. Angry tears rolled down my mothers cheeks as she yelled at the man who dared to touch her daughter. I was called downstairs to tell the police what happened. The liftman was there, crying and pleading with them and my parents to let him go. Thats a lot to take in when you’re ten.

I couldn’t sleep for months after, I’d wonder where the liftman was, whether he was plotting his revenge. I still worry sometimes, even though it’s practically impossible for me to run into him now after all these years.
Iv discussed this with a few of my friends and I found that each of them had their own stories to tell.

Why is it that the world is such a hostile place when you’re a woman. Why do these terrible things happen. Why.

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Whaaaaaa

I came home after a great meal with great people expecting a quite night alone with my two besties, Netflix and cookie dough Ice cream, when my ipad notified me of a new comment on one of my posts.

Now, as lame as it may sound, there is nothing that makes me happier than a fellow blogger taking time out to comment or even like my posts. so you can imagine how excited I was when I found that MissWish a blogger who had followed me just a few weeks ago, and I followed back, had nominated me for the one lovely blog award. The fact that SHE nominated me meant so much. Her posts are so much fun to read and she really knows her stuff. I can not thank her enough!

I realize that my blog doesn’t really give you an idea of who I actually am or what I’m like. If there’s one thing you should know about me it’s that I’m very under confident about my writing. While there is nothing that excites me more than a blank sheet of paper, a pen and my imagination, the idea of other people actually reading what iv written terrifies me. So posting my articles on the internet wasn’t exactly easy for me to do. I remember publishing my first post and just feeling so exposed and raw. It hasn’t been a particularly long time since I first started my blog, it’s been about a month and I feel like I’m really growing, both as a writer and as a person and I only have the blogging community to thank. You guys have been so supportive and helpful through it all and for that I’m eternally grateful.

The rules of A Lovely Blog Award are as follows:

1. Thank the person who nominated you for the award.

2. Add the One Lovely Blog logo to your post.

3. Share 7 facts/or things about yourself

4. Nominate 15 bloggers you admire and inform the nominees by commenting on their blog.

1) MissWish, THANK YOU SOOO MUCH YOU LOVELY HUMAN BEING❤️

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3) 7 facts about myself:

1. I have the attention span of a five year old on drugs.
2. I am a closet romantic.
3. I tend to take people for granted and I absolutely hate that I do.
4. I eat my pizza with ketchup, don’t judge.
5. I am IN LOVE with Caspar Lee.
6. I cried when Dobby died.
7. I am terrified of heights.

4) 15 bloggers I am inspired by and absolutely love

1. MissWish (I know you’ve been nominated already but you deserve another nomination)

2. Umberellabug

3. David Long

4. Luke Kent

5. The great Indian Hypocrite

6. Teenragequeen

7. The Blonde Meret

8. AM.

9. The College Girls Guide to study abroad

10. Fill your own glass

11. EK’s Daily dress

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