Brace Tragedies

My braces have officially left my face. I repeat, there are no longer metal bits stapled on my teeth.

And, to mark this very special occasion, I have written this blog post to commemorate all of the times my brace fucked up.

Enjoy, because if you don’t, I essentially suffered for 3 years for nothing.

Contextually, my teeth are fucked up; they always have been. When I was about 9, I had the biggest overbite known to man; at one point my front teeth were practically horizontal. I had to have a retainer for a couple of years, before my dentist realised that they were worse than everyone thought.

He told me that I was missing one of my back teeth (pretty grim ikr), and that one of my adult teeth was sitting at 180 degrees in my gum. This meant going under general anaesthetic twice to make them somewhat normal.

I can’t really remember anything about ‘going under’. Although I remember that I had to strip completely naked and wear the thinnest robe that tied at the back, so my arse crack was on display if my hand slipped from holding it together. I also remember seeing the orthodontists inserting the needle into my forearm and feeling like I was being euthanized; it was terrifying.

After the initial operation, the first tragedy occurred.

It doesn’t really have anything to do with braces, but when I came back I couldn’t eat solid food for about a couple of days, so in that time I survived on custard and jelly. Now, the first word that comes to mind when being encouraged to eat toddler party-food isn’t tragic, in fact my mum allowed me to go into Tesco with her and get some delicious crap for me to eat.

Although, not all of it was that nice. I think I shoved a ton of shit into the trolley, just for the sake of eating whatever I wanted and getting away with it. So, I guess the first tragedy was essentially that my braces forced me to remember the taste of rice pudding; I don’t forgive myself for taking it off the shelf. Gross.

The second, more legit incident, happened on holiday.

I went to Verbier with some family friends, and for the very first night someone decided that it would be a nice idea to rustle up some spag bol; how very middle-class.

Now, I love a bit of spaghetti; I eat more pasta than I probably should. However, my relationship with the Italian dish became strained after it snapped the fuck out of my brace.

Bearing in mind, at this point I only had my braces for less than two months and I was away from my orthodontist for the first time; if anything happened I was basically screwed. Or my teeth were.

I must have been two spoonfuls in, when I heard a crunch. At first I thought that it was some carrot, but then I realised that my mouth was beginning to throb and that I could taste blood.

No, the food wasn’t off. But what was off, was my brace; the whole of the lower left side had come out and was sticking into my gum.

I am not really a screamer, but my god, this challenged me. I remember making eye contact with my sister for a split second before squealing loudly, lolling my head around, and pointing dramatically to my mouth.

Within a couple of seconds, I was pinned down on the sofa, with all of the lamps in the house held up around my head. I felt like I was in an experiment, as though my mum was going to rip up my mouth with her frantic prodding, right up until  I heard my sister snapchatting the traumatic experience.

For 15 minutes the only thing the adults managed to achieve was making the hole in my  cheek larger, whilst pretending to know what they were doing.

Then, miraculously, my dad’s friend remembered he knew an orthodontist (other than my mum), which was great, as by that point I was fed up of tweezers pricking at my teeth. He called her up and he basically explained my situation. Evidently, that conversation ended with some pliers being shoved down my throat. (that said, they did manage to cut the strip of metal embedded in my gum)

The third tragedy was not being able to eat certain foods without my brace snapping (not to the extent as before lol).

Now, we all know that eating a Curly Wurly is not the best idea, but no one tells you that melon and ice cream are just as bad. (#protip: you can still eat apple, just make sure that you cut it up into small pieces xx)

Lollipops, hard sweets; all, understandably, incompatible with braces. But simple foods, nice foods; why? Life is not fair. My heart is pained.

Also, since having braces, pineapple has made my mouth bleed. I mentioned it in a previous post about hating braces, but since writing it, I have concluded that it directly correlates to having braces. It’s not really relevant, but I just thought that it was useful information to add to a conspiracy theory floating around.

Thank for read 🙂

Hopefully I won’t have to write another blog post about braces.


Best wishes,



Burning Down the Kitchen Cabinets *emotional*

I assume you read the title of this blog post and immediately envisioned me screaming in the middle of my kitchen at the sight of my surroundings going up in flames, after an innocent pasta sesh gone wrong. Don’t be alarmed, thankfully this is not the case. In fact, the title of this post is not true at all.

Don’t worry though, I didn’t use click-bait, this was just an excuse I used to get out of meeting up with friends in Year 7. You know, because I was so anti-social.

I would say that I was a very attention seeking child, to some extent I suppose I still am. And, along with my annoying need to be looked at, I was also a very avid liar.

Now, of course, lying is wrong; it gets you into all kinds of shit. Personally, I try my best to avoid being deceitful, unless I’m in a game of ‘never have I ever’, in which case all of my morality regresses, and truth goes out of the window.

I didn’t have this attitude when I was younger. I mean, I never went to enough parties to gather an opinion on whether or not lying in a social game is acceptable. However, I did think that lying was generally okay.

Usually, I would lie about finishing the last packet of crisps, not loading plates into the dishwasher, forgetting to feed the dog. So, never anything too serious. I would refrain from lying about issues that would potentially get me into more trouble.

‘But how is this relevant?’ – something I hear a lot from my teachers, and a phrase I can hear you saying right now.

Well, as established, I used to love being the centre of attention, and I was also incredibly anti-social. Put these two things together, along with the characteristic of being a good liar; you almost make Jay from ‘The Inbetweeners’, as well as my Year 7 self.

To get out of events I would come up with some trivial excuse that would mean I could stay in and watch EastEnders. Yes, it was a rough period in my life.

My friends did catch on, and it reached a point where I couldn’t keep coming up with short-term excuses to get my (almost) daily doses of Ian Beale and Phil Mitchell. So, I knew that I had to think of something more dramatic, but not unbelievable. Something more long-term, and could last for months on end, not just a few days.

I told my friends that I burned down my kitchen cabinets.

I think I was boiling pasta and the water overflowed, the context of the lie escapes me. However, my friends were so gullible that they believed me. I mean, I did tell them that my brother died, and their parents almost called mine (i know, dark).

For about four months I maintained this lie that my mum wouldn’t let me leave the house as punishment for my sinful actions. My friends were none-the-wiser, and after a while it was just assumed that I was unable to leave the house because of that small house fire I caused one time.

It was great. I didn’t have to hang out with acquaintances in Years 7-9 if I didn’t want to, and I could be silently anti-social without looking like I actually wanted to be at home. The lie never really manifested itself, and people didn’t realise what a pathological liar I really was.

However, one minor issue about the whole ordeal was that I didn’t really have a social life. Although, as people thought me to be credible, I made up for it with lies to sound more interesting; we all remember my fake boyfriend.

Eventually I stopped lying. And by the end of Year 10, my friends and I had completely forgotten about my little culinary accident. In fact, I think it was only around Christmas time last year that they finally found out the truth.

So, I guess the moral of the story is that it’s okay to lie if you are good at it, and if it has potential to be a funny story in about 5 years’ time. Or, I suppose you could also argue that the moral is that you shouldn’t lie at all, and that the truth always comes out eventually. Personally, I prefer the former.

I hope you enjoyed this, although I am sure I will get shouted at by my parents for telling my friends that that my brother got run over by a Volvo estate in Year 7.

Best wishes,


P.S. I do remember to feed my dog – please don’t call PETA. Thx xx

13 Reasons Why I Am Still Single

Hey, it’s Hannah. Oh shit, that’s not my name.

My name is in fact Sofia, and that joke probably cost me three followers and the respect of most teenagers lol.

Anyway, in an attempt to make myself feel slightly better about my current relationship status (although it didn’t help), I contemplated why I am so alone; creating a list of 13 reasons why I still buy chocolate for myself.

  1. The origins of my loneliness can be traced back to Year 6, when I made the unfortunate decision to attend an all-girls’ school. This, for obvious reasons, didn’t help with the dating situation, as I spent 5 years surrounded by people with the wrong sex organ.
  2. However, as there was a boys’ school down the road, there was still a very slim chance of someone finding me vaguely attractive, especially as everyone knows that the guys and girls who were sociable when they were 11 go far in the relationship field. Sadly, I was always too afraid to speak to the opposite gender, and my horizons faded away.
  3. I then thought of the reason why the 11-year old boys didn’t speak to me, and immediately though it was the fact that I was too weird for them to cope with. I mean, my peculiarity repels people from being friends with, or associating with, me, so why should it be different for potential man-friends?
  4. I also considered the absence of having a account, and then concluded that having one would probably reduce the number of suitors clogging up my emails instead of ramping it up. This said, I have listed this as one of the reasons for my single life, because if I had an account, at least there would be a couple of 9-year olds who might find me attractive.
  5. As I metaphorically travelled through school, one of the big issues that emerged was my unrealistic relationship expectations. Watching films, reading shitty, romantic books, and listening to old Taylor Swift when I was 13/14, completely altered the way I envision having a relationship. Realistic isn’t first word that comes to mind when I picture my future boyfriend, and personally, I don’t think that I can settle for a simple slide in my DMs: I need roses, chocolate, Ryan Gosling, handwritten letters, public serenading, mixtapes, poems – the simple stuff.
  6. Oh, and I also became very needy.
  7. Another thing that didn’t help was the development of my social-awkwardness. I can’t function properly in an environment with other people without muttering ‘fml’ under my breath after every interaction or at the sight of potential interactions. So, you can imagine what I was like when I went to prom.
  8. Then I decided to stay at my school, which means that I will be spending my prime years (lol), surrounded by people whose opinions of my attractiveness don’t matter to me. I guess I could’ve taken my baggage to a mixed school, but I am too lazy, too scared and too hormonal for that kind of commitment, so I suppose being suppressed in an all-girls’ school works for the time being.
  9. Honestly, I am a big advocate for double-texting – something that I have been repeatedly told is a thing that people hate. I understand that this can be a massive turn-off, but I personally don’t believe that spamming people is a problem – I guess the number of guys I talk to speaks for itself.
  10. This said, the reason why I may not communicate with as many boys as my face suggests I should could be that I don’t actually like most of them. Now, don’t get me wrong, boys can be very lovely, but most of the time they aren’t and don’t text back. So, the lack of decent men in my life is definitely a reason why I am still single, not that they are throwing themselves at me anyway.
  11. The other thing about guys is that the ones who are attractive and have gReAT pErSOnaLiTIes are often the ones who are already taken. And, seeing as my relationship expectations are still the same as they were when I was a young teenager, I will have to keep waiting until there’s an availability.
  12. Another major reason as to why I am still single is that no one understands my obscure vine references, and this deeply, deeply upsets me and is one of the biggest red-flags. So essentially, I am turned-off by every guy I speak to due to their ignorance.
  13. Finally, the single life chose me. Don’t be mistaken, I didn’t intend to be in my mid-teens with a scented candle obsession and without being in a long-term relationship or having a steady income. You never know, from now until my next post, I might even buy a cat.

Honestly, I have no idea why I am single. Have you seen me? I am literally perfect.

That said, I’m good with not having to share my food for now. Although, if you ask me in a couple of days if I want to have a boyfriend, I will probably put up my cats for adoption and willingly hand myself over to the next potential suitor.

Best wishes,


Snapchat Dos and Don’ts

For those who have no idea, Snapchat is a video/ photo sharing platform on which teenagers share and send random crap to each other that, most of the time, contextually doesn’t make sense.

So I thought that, after offending all of my mum’s friends on Facebook,  I would offend all of my own by complaining about their Snapchat habits. Enjoy 🙂

  • Okay I think the first ”don’t” has to be one about posting loads of crap on your story. Obviously it’s lovely that you are enjoying your day out, I just don’t want to see every second of it, even if you think that your friends are being particularly entertaining.
  • And that also goes for posting loads of unfunny memes. Just don’t.
  • Do try to make your snapchats funny, or at least broadly interesting.
  • But please don’t indirect your crush, because no one needs a crying selfie with the caption “pain”. No one asked for that amount of cringe in their life – use Twitter.
  • And don’t use your story to target certain people in a negative way. For example, when someone posts something like “so pissed off *huffing face* *huffing face*”, no one actually cares. Similarly when you complain about how you “can’t believe he’s done this”, what do you think that guy’s thinking? (probably ‘thank fuck I got out of that one’)
  • Don’t publically drug deal on Snapchat. It’s kind of funny, but it’s also a little too much lol.
  • Do use the Snapchat filters – live your life – but don’t overuse them. We all get that they are humorous, but it’s also nice to actually see someone’s face.
  • Don’t believe that streaks are the be-all and end-all of every friendship that you have. Yes it’s significant that you have sent a Snapchat to someone for 573 days in a row, but how many conversations with that person have you had in that time? Try having an actual conversation from time to time.
  • On the topic of having a streak with someone, what’s the point if that person only sends a blank screen with the letter ‘s’ or the word ”streaks”?
  • Don’t ask random people you don’t know for nudes because it’s creepy af.
  • Do try and sound normal on Snapchat. Playing up for your mates and sounding extra road would work if you weren’t a posh white boy from Buckinghamshire.
  • Likewise if you are road, don’t try to sound extra aggressive with something like “holllaaaa mans got 7grand in his account, mad ting. Mans gonna have bare Armani innit smd. Shank o clock.” As a posh white girl from Buckinghamshire I’m not amused.
  • Don’t have conversations with people when they are sending ugly photos of themselves and you are just sending photos of a black screen. What’s up with that?
  • Do use the text section carefully, we all know how easy pressing the call button is.
  • And how annoying is it when you’re halfway through typing your reply to someone and their bitmoji pops up, meaning that they’re ready to interrupt you at any moment so you type extra quickly, thus creating a spew of words even autocorrect can’t interpret? Very. So just wait.
  • Don’t get into the ‘let’s send each other pics of our face without any comment’ conversation, because you can’t get out of it without looking like a bad person.
  • Don’t post on your story for people to “pop up” or “ft (facetime)” and say that you don’t care who, because that makes everyone feel so loved and wanted (and also makes you sound desperate).
  • Also, please don’t post on your story that you will be giving “sr (slow replies)” or “nr (no replies)”, because does anyone actually give a shit? I can wait for your Snapchat, especially when I don’t Snapchat you, or when I know that it’s just going to have the word “streaks” on it.
  • Don’t open something and not reply within the next minute. Actually, scrap that, make it 15 seconds lol.
  • Do create Snapchat group chats, just please don’t spam them.
  • And finally, don’t block me on Snapmaps – I want to stalk your every movement.

That’s all I have for now, but (don’t) feel free to give me more reasons to write a Part 2 to this.


Best wishes,


15 Reasons Why I Love Myself (lol)

Okay, since I posted 12 Reasons I Will Be Staying In Summer I have had a lot of worried relatives call my mum and ask her whether or not I am mentally stable (which I am lol).

So instead of responding by updating my Facebook status and letting everyone know that I’m not an anti-social recluse who spends the majority of the day indoors; I thought I would reply with a blog post insinuating that I write in a highly exaggerative way.

This one is for all those who are worried about me because #canttakeajoke

  1. I love that I have great patience.
  2. I can judge characters well.
  3. My music taste is amazing.
  4. Sometimes I look like an 8.5 instead of a 6.4
  5. Once I ate 2 medium Domino’s Pizzas without throwing up.
  6. My eyeliner skills are out of this world.
  7. I am very humble.
  8. Babysitting is my passion and I am very good at doing nothing for hours.
  9. I have a great ability to come across as more intelligent than I actually am.
  10. I can make excellent double-chins and can maximise them in any social situation.
  11. Although I have no musical talent I am still able to play the chords of ‘Someone Like You’ by Adele.
  12. My eyes are pretty.
  13. I am fantastic at making friends with people who are actually nice.
  14. I know my strengths and weaknesses.
  15. When I was 8 I taught myself the whole of the Hoedown Throwdown dance from ‘Hannah Montana the Movie’ and can still perform it on command.

That’s all I can think of.

Stay tuned for: 52 Reasons Why I Hate Myself. Coming soon…

I hope that you all enjoyed this blog post, and I am sorry if it came across as too salty lol.

Best wishes,


Faking and Flunking: My Tragic Musical Career

When I was younger I used to be able to sing. I mean, this is a lie, I was always crap at singing, but my mum forced me to join my school choir in Year 3.

I distinctly remember one meeting in the hall with my teacher and about 30 other kids, aged 7-54, rehearsing, probably, a Christian song.

The song was going well, I assume that everyone was slightly off-key and a little high-pitched; but all was good. That is, until we reached the third verse.

There was a line that we couldn't quite perfect; my teacher was practically having an aneurysm after containing her despair for 20 minutes. So we were repeating, and repeating it; each time getting gradually worse.

By the time we sang the line for the 5th time, my teacher started to lose it. Her voice grew to almost a baby-like scream, which no doubt sounded better than what my classmates and I ever produced.

So when one child had to leave due to stress-induced trauma, I decided to question why we were always incredibly awful. I thought that I was alright at singing, although my dad said otherwise. But deep down I knew that I wasn't great; so on the 14th repeat I stopped singing and mouthed the words.

And when everyone, bar me, finished, my teacher actually started to smile and she praised everyone for singing the best they had done in months. I'm not joking.

She proceeded to congratulate everyone for the entirety of the rest of the session, which ultimately led me to the depressing conclusion that I was actually shit at producing noise from my mouth.

Orchestra was somewhat similar.

Obviously when you join a club that requires you to know the pieces that you're playing, you practice at home; I didn't get the memo.

I chose to play the flute when I was 7, and, at the time, I didn't anticipate on hating the instrument; which correlates to my musical downfall, and also the (minimal) amount of time I would spend playing it at home.

Therefore when my lesson partner decided to have solo lessons there was no competitiveness to even spur me to at least try, which drove me to become increasingly awful.

It was particularly heartbreaking at orchestra when my ex-lesson-partner and I were sat next to each other; making the difference in our "abilities" to become strikingly evident. So evident, in fact, that I couldn't actually play any of the pieces we performed.

Instead, I pretended to okay the flute, which carried me through numerous concerts.

Of course I would join in during the easier sections, but the rest of the time I wouldn't blow air into the tube, and would fake hand actions.

It was a method that worked well; I got away with it. I did not, however, get away with not practicing.

I carried on the flute into high school. My teacher had long grey hair to her waist, a long nose, and also hated me. I guess it was because I failed to care (or turn up to any of the lessons lol).

It was due to this lack of caring for that I never tried; this showed, especially at my grade 3 exam.

Now grade 3 isn't exactly noteworthy; you don't hear people screaming about it (probably because it's so easy).

As you know, I can't carry a tune to save a failing choir, so you can imagine my examiner's face during the aural section of my grading.

One part is that the examiner plays a note on the piano, and the examinee sings it back. I executed this extremely well, and lost many marks.

Another section is clapping the beats per bar (or whatever it was) of a certain song. I can remember the examiner shaking his head midway through one song, and looking at me in disbelief when it was over. So this went well too.

The scales were great. I mean, I asked to skip them after attempting (and failing) the D major scale twice, so I guess from my perspective not doing them was the peak of the exam.

Three months later I received the results: the pass mark was 100; I scored 101. To be honest, it was probably because he felt bad for me.

After that disaster I distanced myself from attempting to play musical instruments and singing, and decided that letting others do it was better for my sanity and self-confidence.

That's all you're having, folks.

I hope that you had a little giggle, and laughed like I did when I heard my sister playing the violin for the first time (hint: my musical inability runs in the family).

Best wishes,


Body Goals?

For many, summer is the best time of the year: no school, eating mountains of ice cream every day, and an excuse to spam everyone with tonnes of holiday photos on Instagram and Facebook.

However, I think for everyone, summer also marks the overwhelming insecurity that plagues holidays and trips to the beach.

I would say that everyone, even those who confidently share photos of them posing on the beach feel self-conscious at this time of the year, even if their Instagram indicates otherwise.

Personally, I always hated summer. I hated the beads of sweat that would run down my legs, and the overbearing heat pounding on my body. I hated the idea of showing everyone my figure when I wasn't stick-thin, and when I was also the colour of the snow.

I often have memories of being about 13 and wanting to cover up my legs for fear of being judged by people my age; so I would wear board shorts (that gave me horrible camel-toe) and I would look even worse than I would have done if I went without them.

I also remember the violent scrubbing of Bio-Oil when I was aged 10, trying to get rid of the purple stretch marks that wrapped around me; thinking that I was the only one in the world, apart from pregnant women, to have them.

You see, winter is always unproblematic. You can wear whatever you want to wear without baking, and you can cover up the parts of your body you feel self-conscious about without looking like a wannabe nun.

The thing is, during the rest of the year, I don't mind how people perceive my body: I don't really care enough about my appearance to fake tan every week and to wear makeup everyday (even though I probably should). And I don't care enough to start eating salads instead of hamburgers.

But when summer comes around, all of this suddenly matters. The visibility of your stretch marks (which I think are really cool) and cellulite becomes an issue. The colour of your skin needs to be changed. Your thighs needs to be parted. Why should we care? Why do we strive to look like a goddess when the majority of us look perfect the way we are?

I guess society and the media have a role in it, but ultimately it's the pressure that we put on ourselves that leaves us with the different perceptions of our "body goals".

In many ways, yes, the way a model looks in a bikini is "body goals", but why is her body "goals", when you could look in the mirror and see the same confidence and happiness without the 5am workouts and the diet? Honestly, I think that having a healthy body is "goals", even if materially most people would say that it's not.

So I would say that we should all just chill out a bit, and and realise there is more to life than worrying about what preteens and middle aged women think about you, and whether or not you seem 'buff' to whoever you are attracted to.

Embrace your cellulite and stretch marks, or whatever flaws you think that you have. After all, it's going to be winter soon and it's not often you can dance around in a bikini 24/7 when it's 13 degrees.

Hope you enjoyed another one of my deep blog posts.

And I hope you're having fun wherever you are in the world.

Best wishes,


Fitting In

Life is about fitting in; as soon as you come into this world your life is shaped to fit the mould that your parents created. In many ways, adapting the way you speak and act in particular environments is natural.

Whenever someone is mixed with others, they will try to alter their personality to make communication easier: every 14 year old is going to behave differently when they are summoned to interact with adults, and every adult is going to change their demeanour (and language) in front of small children. It's perfectly acceptable.

Some people will enhance themselves in social situations, others will pretend to be someone completely different. The difference is: altering yourself in a way that you appear to be someone else is unnatural, and it is considered by many to be normal.

As a teenager, I can only comment on the way in which people my age behave around me, and even though I am pretty unobservant, I notice the change in personalities way too often.

I know that everyone changes when they are speaking to another group of people; they are perhaps louder or more shy; it's natural. However this is not the case when someone changes so often that the people around them can't differentiate between their personalities, let alone that person him/ herself.

Often it is easy to mix in with the wrong crowd, and to make friends with people who are worlds away from the real you; resulting in behavioural changes that can become permanent for months and even years. These can be good changes, but in a lot of circumstances the changes that occur are ones that completely alter that person into someone they aren't.

These negative changes are a problem because if you don't recognise them then you become a person you can't identify with, and you adapt to your new environment in a way that if it changes, or the people around you change, then you are left in a state where you can't recognise the real you. This is not a situation that you want to be in.

Or, the other issue with this is, that when you realise that you have altered your behaviour, you think that it is too late to revert into that person you understand, and to be with the friends you know are real and like you for you. Because, ultimately, being you is the most important thing you can be, even if you think that who you are will not be liked or treasured by others. Being you and being liked by people who won't take you for you, or want you to be someone else, is not important, and you should not bow down to those who believe different.

Being true to yourself is paramount in being happy; so don't unnaturally change yourself to become someone you can't recognise, because that will ultimately lead to regret, and also to fakery.

I hope that this post wasn't too deep, and that it may have helped someone who needed it.

See you soon!


Best Wishes,


Party Dos and Don’ts

~Please don’t listen to my advice, there is a reason I don’t go to parties. But if you don’t care and need all of the help you can get, these may be of some use~

  • Do drink underage and post the photos of you doing so on your public social media platforms. It won’t come back to haunt you.
  • Make sure that you dress inappropriately. *You have to do this in order to fit in
  • Don’t start an Instagram or Facebook live whilst at the party. Don’t be annoying.
  • Try to refrain from over energetic dance moves that hit everyone in the face.
  • Do succumb to peer pressure. Sure, go against everything you have learnt during the PSHE lessons you were forced to sit through.
  • Don’t be yourself when interacting with others. Don’t tell them weird shit; save that until they stumble across your Facebook profile and scroll down to May 2010 and are forced to explain yourself.
  • Do make eye contact with people. Try not to blink and see how long it takes until they become uncomfortable.
  • Pretend to be really ‘popular’ to get everyone from other schools to like you. (And to boost you following on social media)
  • Do get top ups for your drink from that dodgy kid at the back of your French class.
  • Do try to like pop music for a few hours, especially songs like ‘ciao adios’ and ‘text from your ex’ that are particularly unlistenable and are shit, yet everyone somehow likes them anyway.
  • Don’t let anyone snatch your alcohol or spike your drink; bring your own two-litre lemonade bottle filled with a vodka mix to keep you happy.
  • Don’t accidently call the police.
  • But do accidently call everyone who wasn’t invited and tell them what a great time your are having.
  • Do make sure that your group takes loads of photos on social media -specifically Facebook – tagging you so that your family are also aware of the illegal happenings and refuse to allow you to go to another party for a couple of weeks.
  • Don’t start a conversation with that one girl who speaks too much because we all know that it won’t end. In fact, that goes for starting a conversation with an unbearably dull person – just don’t do it.
  • Do make sure that the host’s parents are aware of the party and/ or are okay with the idea of having drunk, and heavily stoned, teenagers stumbling around their house for a few hours.
  • Don’t volunteer to DJ the party. I mean, you can, but people will most definitely get pissed off with you for not succumbing to their shitty music taste.
  • Also, don’t be the one to get pissed off with the DJ.
  • Refrain from drug abuse (except from paracetamol intake for a sore head)
  • Don’t go with any friends, this way you are more awkward and therefore fewer people will come up to you.
  • Do turn up uninvited – this goes down a real treat.

I hope some of these didn’t/ did help.

Stay safe,


12 Reasons Why I Will Be Staying In This Summer

My GCSEs officially ended three Fridays again, which explains the unexplained absence and the two month holiday that follows; during which I know many are going abroad and chilling with friends, although this cannot be said for me, as I hope to waste those precious days eating and watching films everyday (bro). Well, maybe every other day. Here are 12 reasons why..

  1. Unless you look like an Instagram model and have a great figure, summer is shit. Personally this time of the year is when I am most insecure; I mean who wouldn’t be when they look like a rhino in shorts. So naturally I’m not the first to adventure into the outside without a jumper or a winter jacket, let alone frolic in a bikini by the beach.
  2. Also, as the UK decided to get uncharacteristically hot this week, random insects emerged and settled on my skin, leaving shitty little bites everywhere; bites that aren’t going down (similar to my self-esteem).
  3. Having 5 weeks of GCSEs has really taken its toll on my emotional wellbeing, therefore it’s important to allow time for recovery in the form of sleep and frozen pizza, both of which can be done indoors. (btw I would usually eat pasta but after having it so often over the past month it makes me gag now)
  4. My face also needs to be kept away from civilisation due to the affect exams have had on it. The bags that are swallowing my eyes, as well as the new and unwelcomed arrival of spots need to be contained. So I can’t go outside and allow anyone to see me. Ever.
  5. TLC is important (not the band, but it’s okay if you feel that way I guess), and so catching up on TV is becoming my main way of chilling out and destroying the remaining brain cells I have left. And I don’t know about you, but watching the final season of PLL has been the single-most underwhelming experience that I have ever endured, meaning that no one should ever be able to witness the frustration I aim towards inanimate objects whilst forcing myself to watch it. The same goes for Love Island, although it’s arguably more entertaining and has a better plot in 30 episodes than 7 wasted years of PLL.
  6. With all of my friends being in the same year as me, meeting up with them should be a lot easier, right? Wrong. It just so happens that even though we have almost 3 months of holidaying, the majority of our time off is spent doing work experience and forcing ourselves to be busy. Thus, the free days I have don’t correlate with my friends’, and so I spend my time pretending to have fun by myself. (and for the record, Nando’s is never as much fun by yourself)
  7. Reluctantly, reading was put on a back burner during the exam period, and now, with the vast amount of novels I need to plough through this summer, I think I will be spending most of my time reading. I guess reading isn’t really excuse to stay indoors as it is an extremely versatile activity that can be done anywhere, however, personally, I prefer to read in the comfort of myself due to the paranoia that engulfs me whenever I read in public.
  8. A few weeks ago I went to my sixth form induction day, which was thrilling. It was a day of taster sessions in which I was told the same information about the new syllabus I already knew, a day of meeting the practically mute new people who probably hated me, and a day of being loaded with ‘bridging work’: a shit tonne of homework that you are expected to complete before September. So excuse me while I stay at home for a few weeks, I have to mentally prepare for A levels.
  9. Also, just because I now have an extended summer holiday doesn’t mean that I’m going to change my lifestyle and usual timetable (as much as my parents want me to). The holiday is my chance to do the same things that I have been doing for the past few months but without the screaming guilt and panic I used to have when I was supposed to be doing something of *greater importance. And even though I do have considerable less friends than many, I don’t think that it’s done me much harm.
  10. Winter is approaching. I mean, it’s not really, but I am so prepared for it to come. I am ready. My skin is of the whitest colour (a few weeks ago I was matched for foundation and apparently I’m shade 00, which doesn’t stock in stores because it’s so light; I guess that’s a realisation if ever I’ve had one), and so when paired with the glaring sun I go red af. However place me in the snow and the cold breeze I fit right in.
  11. Okay, but seriously now, why do people go outside into the blazing heat and complain about getting hyperthermia when you can stay inside with a broken fan and dodgy aircon that prevents overly unhygienic sweating and, in certain circumstances, death.
  12. For many, festivals like Glastonbury are the epitome of summer in Britain, but why go outside to a shitty field (quite literally) with overflowing toilets and a sticky flesh-on-flesh environment when you can watch the whole thing from your sofa? Exactly. Nowadays, as much as people hate, everything is on social media, so why bother going out with your friends when they can post everything on Snapchat and make you feel incredibly upset and excluded? (another) Exactly.

Is this enough to allow me to stay indoors, Mum?

I hope you enjoyed this blog post. I am sorry that it’s been a couple of months.


Best wishes,