the different types of girls at an all-girls grammar school in bucks

tag yourself

Wannabe Communist Leader

  • lowkey hates authority
  • dyes her hair 15 different colours
  • smarter than everyone else in the year
  • obscure knowledge about everything
  • knows lots of shit about teachers’ personal lives
  • could teach lessons
  • speaks very quickly
  • ‘its ya boi’
  • political memes

The Stationary Hoarder

  • cries when she gets 97% in an end of topic test
  • reads textbooks in her free time
  • can’t approach teachers due to crippling anxiety
  • has a panic attack whenever someone borrows a pencil
  • lives in the library
  • did bronze DofE just for the Oxbridge application
  • hasn’t smelt a man
  • probably studies science at A level
  • has the rucksack the school recommended in year 7
  • on results day she looked at her mark rather than the grade

Whitest girl in the school

  • hunts with daddy in their private woods with their bloodhounds
  • brings a starbucks drink into all of her classes
  • did latin at GCSE
  • listens to K-pop to understand other cultures
  • doesn’t know what ‘Tesco Value’ items are
  • reads smut as a joke
  • doesn’t eat food that’s touching each other
  • wears her daddy’s old North Face fleece because it’s vintage and still smells of dead foxes

Second-tier Popular

  • highkey feminist
  • goes to parties but only drinks smirnoff ice
  • nice person on the whole
  • overuses her private account
  • likes and comments on everyone’s selfies
  • cliquey but not cliquey
  • friends with all of the teachers
  • only dates boys within her friendship group
  • gets off with the year below
  • has an iPhone 8+

The Horny Girl

  • only speaks about boys
  • has a notebook of baby names and wedding details
  • fancied her own cousin at one point
  • uses her private Instagram account to indirect her crushes
  • probably has a couple of thousand followers on Twitter
  • thinks that Twilight is a piece of cinematic brilliance
  • writes erotic poetry

The Corbynite

  • you feel honoured whenever she likes your Instagram pictures
  • edGy tumblr asthetic
  • has, and uses, their twitter account
  • has random friends from the internet that live in London
  • doesn’t abide by the dress code
  • goes to concerts to see bands no one has heard of
  • has watched every singe Netflix original series (e.g. black mirror and stranger things)
  • wears checkerboard vans and clout glasses
  • “rip lil peep”
  • creates niche memes
  • is a vegan due to ethical reasons
  • lowkey scared of her

The Regina George

  • highkey scared of her
  • friends with the year above
  • travels in packs
  • you would not approach her friendship group
  • doesn’t follow you back on Instagram
  • hangs out with roadmen in the dodgy parts of High Wycombe
  • extrovert
  • refuses to accept that “popular” groups exist
  • hates half of her friendship group

Does she even go here?

  • doesn’t hang out in the common room
  • is in your class but you don’t know their name
  • abides by the dress code
  • keeps to herself
  • takes the train into school
  • still doesn’t know where some of the classrooms are
  • either has been one of the lucky few to join an exclusive friendship group, or surrounds herself with other outsiders
  • actually does work in her free periods
  • regrets the decision to leave their old school

The Feminist

  • is a vegan to tell people that she’s a vegan
  • has opinions
  • was a feminist before feminism was a thing
  • stans taylor swift
  • only eats food from the ‘waitrose 1’ range
  • has a pet horse or two
  • uses big words
  • enunciates very well
  • makes everyone else feel dumb
  • very judgy
  • is probably gluten free

The Roadgyal

  • says she lives in ‘the ends’ but basically means Middlesex
  • has a very hip Instagram
  • uses slang that no one really understands
  • ‘mandem’
  • wears hoop earrings and big glasses
  • very in-touch with her culture
  • uses “ironically”
  • is friends with gang members on Snapchat
  • has a YouTube channel
  • randomly has beef with the year 13s for commenting on a meme some year 8 accidentally sent to the whole school

Your Average Joe

  • uses btec as an insult
  • complains about the prices of the canteen yet still pays £1 for a cup of tea
  • blends in with everyone else
  • parents shop at M&S and Waitrose – sometimes Tesco Finest
  • used to do ballet
  • shops at H&M even though they had a PSHE lesson on how unethical it is
  • thinks that B grades are bad
  • obsessed with average (at best) looking boys
  • used to be friends with everyone in year 11 but now has about 3 friends
  • goes to London once and posts everything on Snapchat
  • watched love island to understand the memes
  • will probably go to a Russell Group university and will inevitably be jealous of those who got into Oxbridge
  • the epitome of upper middle class
  • says she’s a feminist even though their back-up plan is to marry a rich man
  • doesn’t speak to anyone from any other year group
  • always complains about how tired they are even though no one gives a fuck

and The Greatest Person You Will Ever Meet

  • has a very funny blog
  • incredibly attractive but underrated
  • street smart AND book smart
  • girls want to be her, boys want to be with her
  • doesn’t give a fuck
  • could have all of the boys but chooses not to xx
  • bad bitch
  • has the best Snapchat and private Instagram accounts in the year
  • looks super hot with and without glasses
  • really good music taste
  • is really shy at first but super outgoing and fucking annoying once you know her

I am sorry if this triggered anyone. Please don’t report me to my head of year lol.

Best wishes,



15 Things I Will Never Do Again

In the past two weeks I have been sitting through lectures, listening to people talk about trying something new and doing things you can’t. Inspirational shite.

Of course the message is good, everyone should always do something outside of their comfort zone blah blah blah. But what about all of the things that they won’t do again? No one ever mentions that.

So I am going to save you the hellish experience of doing something and deciding that you hate it, and list 15 things that I don’t necessarily regret, but will never want to go through again.

Getting a pet

Initially, the experience of having a dog was perfectly agreeable. We would play with her most of the time, we would want to be the one to feed her and walk her. However, after 2 years, it has become a source of great suffering.

Going outside and trotting around the block is a total pain in the arse, even though I rarely do it. The thought of the effort used to go on a voyage to the park makes the lactic acid build up in my legs.

Don’t get a pet, or at least, don’t get a high maintenance one. Essentially, make sure you get a pet where it’s not too much of an issue if you forget to feed it.

Go to bed early

To a certain extent, going to bed at 1 in the morning on a weekday has become a habit; I don’t consciously decide not to go to bed early – it just happens.

And, seeing that I can’t remember the last time I went to bed at a decent time, I don’t think that I will be dozing off at 10 o’clock anytime soon (as much as my body is hinting at me to).

Get a fringe

I’ve tried that shit one time too many.

Go shopping with my mum

I feel like this should be a separate blog post because it irks me so much, but I really dislike buying clothes with my madre.

Don’t get me wrong, going shopping with someone who pays for everything is wonderful; I am eternally grateful. However, due to the fact that my mum won’t buy anything that looks half-decent or makes me look like someone who isn’t middle-aged. I wouldn’t be the first one to jump at the opportunity of shopping with her.

I mean, I guess she buys a couple of things that she thinks are ‘alright’, but more often than not, I come home with about 5 bags of clothes that I only wear for my grandma or when I decide to paint something.

Start a Snapchat streak with someone I don’t like

Realistically, this is not going to change, because everyone wants to start a streak with me. After all, I am hilarious, but you all know this already.

So the next time an acquaintance sends me the dreaded blank screen with the letter ‘s’, I will not respond. Well, I might not respond.

Lend someone my school skort

Okay, a bit of context for this:

Now I know that this contradicts my brand, but a couple of years ago I used to row. You know, with boats and oars (just thought i would clarify).

It was an average Monday at school during winter, and after my last lesson finally finished, I dragged myself to the PE department where, with great effort, I shed the heavy, heavy uniform I was forced to wear day in and day out, and swapped it with something far more comfortable.

I changed into sports gear and trudged my way through the waterlogged earth to the bus, which carries us to some lake in Windor. But halfway through the expedition, I was randomly stopped by an intimidating member of group in my year. She came up to me and I froze, partially because it was about -3 degrees, and also because I was shook that she knew my name. She asked to borrow my shorts, I complied, and within half a second I was rummaging through my PE kit trying to find something that didn’t look muddy. I whipped out a skort as I didn’t own a pair of the unflattering school shorts, and handed it over. What a grave mistake.

I thought I would be given them back a week later, smelling like someone else’s washing up powder. How wrong was I, because in reality, that was the last time I ever saw my beloved garment.

I asked for it back for a couple of months, never receiving my precious short-skirt combo. It was the worst period of my life. Eventually, however, she gave me ‘my skort’ back, even though it was about 3 sizes too small and had someone else’s name written in it.

So, moral of the story, a good deed never goes unpunished, and I will never be lending a piece of PE kit to anyone, no matter how scary they are.

Initiate conversation with a boring person

This one doesn’t really need an explanation, as you probably know exactly what I am speaking about. Or who I am speaking about.

Promote my blog to people I will later write about

Yeah, this one sucks, and I always forget about it.

To be honest, I don’t write about everyone I know; I try not to. Of course, it’s not like they would actually read it, but to some extent I have to maintain a bit of trust with people, and can’t write about them willy-nilly.

Occasionally, my blog crops up in conversation with people I don’t know that well, and that results in me ruling out any direct or indirect comments about them; essentially ruining the great content I could have.

Watch a Jake Paul ‘vlog’

I am not 11.

Cut my own hair

This goes along with my fringe, when I basically ‘trimmed’ it and ended up creating an arc that would not grow out for about 3 weeks; two of which were spent on a school trip in Greece. The photos came out great!

Get a fake tan

Before I went on holiday in Turkey this summer (seems to be a running theme), my mum decided that I needed bronzing up.

Long story short, I came out of that booth smelling like pasta, and the paint that was sprayed on my body stained my skin a colour that was a lot browner than I had anticipated. I am not joking.

Do maths

Dropped that shit as soon as I could.

Eat a ‘family size pack’ of Skips

I have eaten so many disgusting and dodgy things in my time. However, one of the few things that I specifically remember was eating a ‘family size pack’ of Skips, the prawn cocktail flavoured crips that taste like childhood (or sick).

I genuinely can’t eat them anymore, as they give me really bad PTSD, and remind me that I have no self-control at all.

Take too long in the bathroom

More context:

Two nights ago I decided to treat myself to a nice bath. I got in there, sploshed about for a bit, and within two minutes I heard a banging on the bathroom door. I rolled my eyes, thinking that my sister just wanted to take the speaker I was using (she thinks it’s hers but it’s actually my dad’s) (she stole it). But no.

Immediately after the banging came shouting and piercing screams, telling me to ‘GET OUT OF THE BATH. I WANT TO HAVE A SHOWER’. I will just reiterate, that I had been in the bath for less than 5 minutes at this point.

I didn’t give her the reaction she so desperately craved, and the yelling continued. At one point she asked me to make some noise, because she believed that I was just genuinely pissing her off.

Ignoring her demands I turned up the music I was listening to and continued aimlessly scrolling through Twitter. When, suddenly, I heard a rip.

I didn’t give it a second thought until I saw her post the essay I had written an hour before underneath the bathroom door in two parts. How sweet of her.

She continued to rip up essays and sheets of homework I had completed, whilst I continued to pretend that I didn’t care. When, in reality, I was crying into the bath.

Eventually she stopped, and after waiting for her to hibernate, I carefully came out of the bathroom and was distraught to see a mountain of ripped-up paper left outside the door. I didn’t kill her, but I came very close to throttling her with the towel wrapped around my head.

So, to round this off, I won’t be having a bath in a very long time.

Spend an hour perfecting my Owen Wilson impression

Actually, this shouldn’t be on the list; I don’t regret it at all.

Hope you enjoyed this blog post folks, and remember: don’t forget to like, comment and subscribe. Merch is in the link in the description xoxo

Best wishes,


p.s. pls dont call PETA

p.p.s. wow

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,