Category / Life

by ChronicWriter

Got that Festive Feeling?

Today is the last day of November!

Children under the age of 14 everywhere are unwrapping their advent calendars and hanging them up excitedly, ready for tomorrow. Even the kids that are over 14, who are too cool for advent calendars but have accepted the one their parents have bought them, delusional in hiding their happiness.

At 9pm, 30th November, I have just realised that tomorrow will signal the official Countdown to Christmas– the opening of the advent calendar. An advent calendar I forgot to buy myself. I know- what?! How has this even happened? I’ve been spying cool advent calendars for over a month now; choccy ones, beauty product ones and calendars with Yankee Candles in (but who’s going to spend £40 on an advent calendar? Not me, clearly). And the ones with your favourite characters on; Frozen or Mickey or The Snowman, you know the ones! Them with the fake tasting chocolate in that all the 3 year olds love!

I have been out of the nest for 7 years now, that’s 7 Christmases. And yet I still can’t remember that my mum won’t be buying me my advent calendar for the countdown to Christmas. Maybe because for the first few years, she forgot I’d moved and still bought me one? Or maybe I’m just not ready to let go of childhood traditions? I still get excited for Christmas. I still get a rush for decking out the house, doing the tree, going to the Lights Switch On (which I know will be disappointing but I still go every year) and getting up at 6am to open my presents. I have yet to outgrow these magical moments.

I look back fondly on many Christmas memories. Begging my Dad to build the trampoline, jumping all morning and ending up in A&E Boxing Day due to a twisted ankle. Watching my brother race around the garden on his new dirt bike, grinning as my Mum took photos. Having to wake my little sister up and wrapping her up in a dressing gown early Christmas morning, sleepy face looking at mine, not quite believing there would be presents and fun waiting downstairs. And when I got older, watching my mum & dad, sister & brothers open the gifts I’d bought them, their faces light up, eating dinner together as a family, all 6 of us; my mum still shakes her head when I insist on a Prawn Cocktail starter. I will bound out of bed if my husband tells me it’s snowed- nothing will get me out of bed faster!

734480_10152133880653140_482744811_n

Growing up only meant a growing appreciation for this holiday. It is my favourite.

I’m excited. Like, 8-year-old excited when she hears her brothers and sister whisper “he’s been…” and running downstairs, eyes wide at the presents under the tree. Trying to open them slowly so the moment lasts, because somewhere in the back of my mind I know I’m getting older and this magic will only start to dissipate.

Well, like that 8-year-old, I’m still desperately clinging to that tingly, Christmas morning feeling. I long for it. Christmas is my favourite time of year and I refuse to outgrow this. I refuse to turn into one of those grouchy grown ups who moan about trimmings and Christmas shopping and whinge about hearing Fairytale of New York on repeat.

Am I gutted about forgetting an Advent Calendar? You bet Rudolf’s red nose I am!

Quick dash to ASDA anyone?

Update: 1st December & the crisis has been averted. I can always count on mum!! Xx

by ChronicWriter

Delusions of a 14 year old girl

As a teenager, I would fantasise about all the awesome things I was going to be able to do when I grew up. Ideas that I would share with my friends on sleepovers, we would laugh as we came up with fairy tale endings and made plans for our future.

But life never works out the way we want it to, does it?

The delusions of a 14 year old:

  • Buying sexy lingerie and matching sets (and being able to fill them out!). I spent a lot of my adolescence waiting for my breasts to develop, always the last one, they seemed to just appear overnight. But once I had them, I saw them only as a hindrance, unable to fit in the pretty bras from Primark. Girls, let’s be honest, there’s no better feeling than the ‘aahh’ moment when I let them loose on a night time.
  • One of my most vivid memories of my teenage years, is when my friends and I had a sleepover and talked long into the night. The topic? Sex. Until the age of 19, I was a prude, so these conversations were awkward at best but I would offer funny comments and we would laugh together. At this sleepover, we were talking about what music we would do it to – crazy! Laughing, I chose Bon Jovi’s Blaze of Glory and I got huge laughs.
  • Every little girl tries on her mother’s high heels and teeters about the bedroom, like Bambi on the ice. As a teenager, I rarely got the chance to wear high heels, so I believed that once I grew up, this skill would automatically come. As if reaching the age of 18 would grant me endless grace, wisdom and the skills I would need to succeed in life. No, I was an idiot at 14. And now at 25, I am yet to master high heels. I have even opted for flats when I go Out-Out, because I would swap comfort for sass any day of the week- which is probably why I’m sat writing in pyjamas on a Friday night!
  • And the big one- Periods. We all thought periods would bring about our womanhood, our female prowess, the ability to have babies and conquer parenthood, be independent, as well as bring home the bacon. But, for women everywhere, mother nature has conned us. Periods have been a massive let down in my life; heavy, irregular and due to my Endometriosis, severely painful. I remember whining to my mum, that I would never get my period. I can’t count how many times I have laughed about how ironic that is.
  • I imagined leaving school to be a massive milestone in my life. A grand day that I would remember forever. But truth be told, I can’t even remember it. I thought I would be somehow wiser, more grown up after I walked through the gates that last afternoon. I know I was sad to leave secondary school behind and took comfort in the knowledge that some of my friends would be going with me to 6th form.
  • Speaking of nights out, drinking was a huge points on the Pro list of growing up. Images of me, age 20, sitting as a bar, cocktail in hand, looking oh so sophisticated. ERR- NO. Alcohol does not agree with me. I do not enjoy drinking and I take pride in the fact that I can have a great time, without it. I’m not a big partyer. I’m more of a cup of tea, bubble bath and a good book, night in type of girl. I relish the boring, I’ll be a square to the end.
  • I had ambitious ideas of what I expected from my professional life. I fooled myself into thinking I knew what I wanted in a career. I thought I would have a choice of highly-paid, high position jobs when I graduated from uni but unfortunately graduates all over the UK know that this isn’t the case. But when I actually got a job, it made me doubt what career I’d chosen for myself. It is ridiculous that society expects children of 15/16 to choose subjects that will map out their life. How can they know what they want to do when all they have known is education?
  • The responsibility of having my own house was exciting. I would think of how I’d decorate it, relish in the idea of having my own space- my house, my rules. What I neglected to think about was the responsibility of having my own house. Rent, bills, cleaning, food shopping, being a grown up.

But I cannot regret my childish ideas of what adulthood would be like. I cannot be bitter that my life doesn’t quite match up to those rosy expectations because everybody has dreams, everybody wants shiny things out of life, but life isn’t perfect and it certainly isn’t easy. But anything worth having is never easy, right?  
Life is like a rollercoaster and I’m just along for the ride. I have to experience the highs as well as the lows.
by ChronicWriter

Season: WINTER

Why do I love Winter?

775286_10151461833373140_717949611_o.jpg

Layers

We all look like we’ve put on 3 inches around the waistline, but it’s 4 layers of warm clothing. Mum’s “don’t forget your coat, you can always take it off, but you can’t put it on if you don’t have it…” speech plays on repeat, like a mantra in my head once Autumn kicks in. 3 layers, winter coat, hat, scarf & gloves. Check.

Hats

Forget bad hair days in the colder months! A hat is the quick-fix that cures my bed hair anxiety.

Fingerless Gloves

I love that for a few months every year, I get to dress like The Artful Dodger, like I’m one of Fagan’s gang. There’s something a little bit sneaky about fingerless gloves and I love it!

Stew & Dumplings

No, not the stew & dumplings that you buy in the ready-meal aisle at ASDA. I mean the stew that your grandparents used to make in a massive pot. The stew that they start cooking at 9am & is still on the hob at 6pm! Stew that could easily feed a family of 4 for a week.

Christmas

Nothing will ever make me more thankful than Christmas. I cocoon myself in Christmas spirit around mid-November time, much to my husband’s despair. The tree goes up 1st December and doesn’t come down again until January. Christmas songs, trees & tinsel, decorations, presents, FOOD. How can you not love Christmas when you can pig out on chocolate at 7am, open gifts, spend the day with your loved ones? On a day when a onesie is acceptable attire for Christmas Dinner. My annual tradition concists of Michael Buble’s Christmas album on LOUD, Baileys hot chocolate while I’m decorating my tree. Spending Boxing Day afternoon at your Nan’s because she’s put a spread on, desperately searching for emergency chairs, sipping on a Snowball. Finding glitter on everything- everywhere! I even got married 5 days before Christmas & invited Santa to my wedding! What’s not to love?

Snow

My husband has only to whisper “it’s snowed!” at 6am & I’m wide awake, out of bed & at the bedroom window. Nothing has ever gotten me out of bed quicker! Yes, fine, call me a child! I haven’t quite got to the adult stage of hating snow. When it snows, I skip the worry about getting snowed in, I skip the mad dash to the supermarket for bread and milk, and jump straight to – what are we doing first? Snowman? Snowball fight? Snow angel?

I know, I’m 4 years old. And I don’t care.

What do you love about Winter?

by ChronicWriter

Single vs Plural

 

writer and her dog.jpg

A writer & her dog

I’m going to say what no feminist, or girl gang member, is supposed to say; I like being in a relationship. I love it, I love being a We, being an Us.

I feel safer around others, don’t get me wrong- I love my own space. I like sitting by myself, reading, writing (sound like such a geek!) and watching the TV I want to watch.

I read a lot of Danielle Steel novels through my adolescence, the trauma of heartbreak and the drama of finding love made a lasting imprint early in my life. I was transformed from a shy girl to a hopeless romantic within a year, as soon as the wave of hormones took me over at 13 years old.

I watch re-runs. I can watch episodes over and over until I find new bits to laugh at. I watch shows like Sex and the City, Friends and Downton Abbey. As I nervously giggle at Samantha’s sexcapades or cheer Carrie on in her fight to win Mr Big, or cringe at Chandler’s bad luck in early relationships and frown at Mary’s stand-offish, stubborn attitude – I am thankful that I am not alone, that I have found my other half, and that I’m NOT single.

I know, sacrilege! An independent woman, declaring that she needs to be in a relationship, needs to have a man next to her, am I mad?

But, now I live with a chronic illness, I have begun seeing myself as somewhat unreliable, with a fragility that I cannot control and an insecurity that sometimes gets the better of me, despite how hard I try to get a hold of myself.

 

The thing is, I can’t even remember what I used to be like before I was plagued by chronic pain and worrying if I would be ill again next month, or trying to describe and explain every single pain I feel, desperately waiting for my next Dr’s appointment.

And to imagine dating, or trying to explain why I am the way I am, to a stranger, doesn’t bear thinking about. My illness has turned me into a needy, insecure, reassurance-seeking, crying, stressy mess. A mess which my husband is legally obligated to clean up. I feel incredibly guilty that I wasn’t like this when we first met, it’s almost like I’ve lured him into false pretences, like the don’t worry I’m on the pill trap, only with less sex and more late night chemist runs. Nick is incredibly patient and understanding, and I know I married a great man.

So, while it’s awesome having ‘me time’, and that I’m irrevocably in love with my husband, I’m also close to him, like best friend close. And the fact that I can tell him everything, makes life with this bag of shit illness easier to live with. He gets it. He gets me.

If I didn’t have this best friend, I wouldn’t be living it up with my single girlfriends like the girls in Sex & the City. I’d be living at home with my parents, sharing a room with my little sister, spotty and an emotional wreck.

After just 7 words; I’ve leap-frogged back to 2004. I’m a prude, a bof & socially anxious. I have the same school friend that I have now with the same senses of humour but without the worldly knowledge we possess now.

In the words of Ace Ventura: “No, spank you very much.” My life may not be perfect right now, but it’s a damn sight better than it was back then. That’s good, right?

Progress.

 

by ChronicWriter

Notebook Haul

There is nothing a writer loves more than a new notebook – except maybe, caffeine?

I am a huge stationary fiend. During my years at 6th form, I worked in Partners (now known as Rymans!) where I got a pretty decent staff discount. Nightmare! But what I will say is- at the start of a new term, my pencil case was choc-a-block and bursting with shiny new pens. September very quickly became my favourite month, pre-school prep would commence!

img_0191

Now though, I still can’t resist a  new notebook, a new capsule for my thoughts, memories in binding. And so, here are what I’ve treated myself to over the last couple of months.

(Now I’m officially a grown-up, I don’t have wait till the end of term to splurge on stationary!) eek.

  1. Home Bargains (89p) – Lined B5 with 64 pages and plastic cover
  2. Sainsburys (gift) – A5 hardback, spiral bound, lined
  3. Paperchase (£7) – Lined A5 notebook with plastic cover with ribbon page-marker
  4. Paperchse (£6) – Tall, spiral bound, hardback with lined paper
  5. The Works (£1) – Plain, paperback, lightweight

 

img_0193

It’s like Thumbelina’s Diary!

Wilko (£2.50) – One Thought a Day diary,covers 5 years, tiny with ribbon page-marker

 

I am currently abusing #1 (Home Bargains) for my blog scribbles  as it’s a great size and the paper has a silky feel which helps my pen temporarily forget it’s left-handed awkwardness.

IMG_0198.JPG

5 stars!

 

 

 

 

by ChronicWriter

The Worst Thing about Periods

Being a woman is never easy. It doesn’t get any easier no matter how old I get. One of the crappiest things is getting my period.

Unable to control it, we are slaves to our bodies. I will forever be in awe of women that know the exact date their period is due, who still manage to function and look amazing, even whilst their uterus punishes them for not having a baby.

 

juanbarquero

Juan Barquero’s Nudes 07

 

There are lots of things I dislike about my period. Because of my Endometriosis, my periods mean horrendous cramps and a heavy flow.

At 16, tired of the ick factor surrounding the sanitary towel (I don’t know why they call it that!) and fed up of running to the toilet every 10 minutes during lessons, I swapped to Tampax, ignoring the TSS scare from my mum.

Using tampons immediately eased some of my period anxiety. I felt cleaner, there is nothing worse than physically feeling that ‘bleugh’. I even got the Compact ones which avoided any embarrassment when I, winner of the Clumsy Queen award 2007, dropped my bag, emptying its contents on the classroom floor. Aimee 1, Period 0.

 

I hate the False Stop. It has happened to me a lot recently. It makes me groan outwardly every single time it happens and I hate it. The False Stop is when you’ve had 12-24 hours of clean pad or dry tampon and not a speck of blood, so you think my period must’ve stopped. You grab your sexy lacy knickers out of your drawer, hiding your white cotton M&S specials until next month. You’ll go out, make plans, maybe even have sex. But, your uterus is just luring you into a false sense of security, setting you up for a cruel joke, that you’ll never find funny. Five minutes in your new knickers, one cocktail down, or mid-sexytime, you’ll get a suspicious something ain’t right feeling.

BAM! Mr Red is back. And his timing is shitty.

My eyes hit heaven and I facepalm… FML. Aimee 1, Mr Red 1.

 

I hate that I’m forced to carry around essentials and my bag has to be big enough to find my top drawer in it. I look like a Nomad. It’s a nightmare because you can guarantee that the one time I don’t take all this stuff (just in case!) I’ll need it. Although, I do get to buy some pretty beautiful bags. Aimee 2, Mr Red 1.

 

I never get to buy the sheets I want. I see these awesome Pinterest Homeware pins and sigh in wanting. I have come to understand that I will never own white bed sheets, white towels, white jeans. I only just waver this rule for white cotton pants! And even then, I have tie-dyed a handful of them. It’s just not worth the risk. I’m an accident-waiting-to-happen when it comes to spill-able liquids or foods that stain, and I’m cursed with crappy hormones and periods. Both would ruin white 500-count Egyptian cotton sheets. Aimee 2, Mr Red 2.

 

As I’ve always tried to be more a ‘the glass is 1/2 full’ type of lass- 50.9% of the UK population are female. And this means that there are approximately 32,555,572 girls and women in the UK right now. And all of them will know the unpleasantness that is menstruation. We’re not alone. Women everywhere & Aimee 3, Mr Red 2.

So far, it looks like I’m winning and I need a win so I think we’ll leave it here for the time being- whilst the odds are ever so slightly in our favour.

Ladies,  what do you think is the worst thing about periods?

 

NOTE:

The art I have used in this post is by French artist Juan Barquero. Please go look at his creations. He is a master artist, his work shows such poetic sensibility. I’m yet to find a painting that describes the way I feel about the weaknesses of my female form with as much clarity. Image result for twitter logo png transparent backgroundImage result for instagram logo

 

 

 

 

by ChronicWriter

beautiful

(byoo-tuh-fuh-l)

adjective:

1.having beauty; possessing qualities that give great pleasure or satisfaction to see, hear, think about, etc.; delighting the senses or mind:

a beautiful dress; a beautiful speech.

2.excellent of its kind:

a beautiful putt on the seventh hole or the chef served us a beautiful roast of beef.

3. wonderful; very pleasing or satisfying.

 

The word beautiful has been used throughout time to identify someone or something of excellence. In this world, beautiful has defined celebrities, fashion models, even cars.

In a simpler time, I could call a sunset “beautiful”, or describe a kind-hearted person: “he has a beautiful soul.”

In the past, I myself have attributed beauty to a woman with curves, with a clear complexion and a dazzling smile, to a woman who can walk in high heels with sophistication, who is able to have a perfect set of nails and her hair just right.

It has taken a trauma for me to realise how shallow my own point of view actually was. I apologise to women everywhere. I feel like I have been brainwashed by social media and magazines and society’s “perfect woman”. I foolishly reached for this unrealistic, ridiculous beauty. And now my eyes are open.

Over the past month or so, I have witnessed someone close to me go through such a tragic time in her life. So distressing was her pain, I struggled to know exactly what to say or what to do to help. It has been hard for me to see her struggling; growing up- we never thought we’d have to face something so difficult.

And yet, she has dealt with her pain with such grace, I am astounded at her strength. This is my close friend- my best friend- I thought I knew her completely but she has floored me. I am inspired and awed at how she has been able to manage this sad time with so much dignity. She has reached out to me, even in her time of grief and been so supportive of me. Her pain has not changed who she is. This lady is a truly beautiful person, inside and out.

What makes a woman beautiful is the way she picks herself up after falling, the way she dries her eyes and puts her make-up on. A beautiful woman is confident and loving and does not apologise for her weaknesses. She is grateful for the small things in life, and is able to smile in the rain.

Vanity and beauty do not walk hand-in-hand as I had thought. Ladies, you will never be as you are now ever again, savour this moment.  See how beautiful you are, through the eyes of someone who loves you. Love is beautiful.

I am overwhelmed with how much love I have for my husband, my partner in life. He has the power to make me feel incredibly beautiful with just a look. After surgery, I now have 8 scars on my body. These are my battle scars, proof of my pain & my own rough times. As I pulled away my dressings, seeing my wounds for the first time, I was upset at how they would look. Would my husband still want me? Will I be able to love myself?

My husband has never caused me to doubt his affection or wanting of me. He calls me beautiful. He knows that beauty is not only on the outside, it is in the kindness in her soul, what she is willing to do for her family and in the way she cares for the people around her. I dare say, we’re as in love as ever.

When you struggle in life, it forces you to count your blessings and be thankful for the people in your life. That is beautiful. Having someone that knows you inside and out, is beautiful. My scars, evidence of the war inside my body, the proof of my strength and that I was able to come out of the other side; are beautiful.

Beauty is everywhere. Do not limit it to vanity or superficial ideas. See the beauty in your life, in the people who have always been there for you. See the beauty inside yourself.

by ChronicWriter

Do I use Coconut oil? Yes!

coconut-oil

For the past year or so, there’s been a lot of fussing over coconut oil and how amazeballs it is for your skin, health, food- how you can use it for everything! For the longest time, I tried to resist the urge to buy a jar and jump on the bandwagon but I found some with a great price point, tried it, loved it, so… I’m now a Coconut Oil Convert!

What do I use Coconut Oil for?

  • Use in cooking/baking as an alternative, healthier oil
  • Hair mask
  • Frizz fighter – I use a small amount after styling my hair to calm fly-aways and seal split ends.
  • ‘Herbal’ Rub *cough/wink* penetrates the skin to treat muscle aches, abdo pain. *Inspired by Whoopi & Maya products from the US*
  • As bath oil. Add some to a hot bath, it’s a natural skin moisturiser.
  • Lip balm
  • Make up remove

 

 Have you tried organic coconut oil?

How did you use the oil?

What did you think?

 

by ChronicWriter

How was your first day at school kids?

As I stand in a queue waiting to hand my prescription in at the chemist, I can’t help but notice the adults have got an aura of calm around them that they didn’t have last week. The reason for their good mood? No, it’s not a sale on at Next, or a bank holiday weekend. It’s quite obvious that the light in these women’s eyes is simply bewilderment and panic as they are able to hold a 3 minute conversation with a fellow parent without hearing the “Mum! Mum!” chorus and being pulled in the direction of the toy aisle. No they haven’t left their children at home or in the car, the kids have gone back to school. The nation all took a big sigh of relief as we waved the kids off on the bus and put the kettle back on for a much-needed brew after running around crazy, trying to find the last few bits before school starts. Wave, sigh, tea, relax.

But for some parents, the relaxation and free time wasn’t to last. Little did they know that their children were being ridiculed and their appearance criticised severely as they passed through the school gates on their 1st day of school.

It has been all over the news and on social media about a Headmaster sending children home because their attire didn’t conform to school uniform policy. Some of the pupils from Hatsdown Academy in Kent who had the wrong shoes on or skirts which were too short were refused entry to the school and told to go home to return later in the proper attire. I thought it was just this school, but soon I was reading about similar experiences in other high schools, including an academy in my town.

After seeing some of the pictures relating to these news pieces, I can understand why the parents belonging to these children were unhappy. Why they were confused and demanding answers from the Headmaster. These children all looked very smart, presentable and seemed to represent the Academy very well.

In my secondary school, we didn’t have blazers (it was before all the Academies started popping up everywhere!) but we did have a tie and not a clip-on one. So that tie had to be tied to perfection and shirts were tucked in, top buttons fastened. I’m pro-uniform and would’ve loved a blazer (just for the inside pocket which I would rename as my ‘snack pocket’). With that in mind it’s safe to say I’m an advocate for children learning discipline and respect. I love a good uniform for either work or school; I’d hate to have to get up each morning and pick out an outfit, something fashionable and appropriate. In both situations, uniforms are great for uniting the pupils and creating a level playing field for the children, theoretically reducing bullying behaviour.

However, what I don’t agree with, is the manner in which this Headmaster criticised his pupils. The children, especially the new Year 7s, would have been nervous, anxious about attending a new school, meeting new teachers, dealing with a lot of new information. During what is surely a stressful time, the teachers are there for guidance and support, being someone the children can go to for help with their problems.

This move by the Headmaster has just cancelled all of that out. Looking the children up and down, criticising their appearance. Telling them they can’t come in because there is a gold buckle on their shoe, I can’t imagine what these pupils were thinking. I’ve never heard anything like it. Is that gold buckle or that hair cut going to make much of a difference? Are these trivial things really going to damage a child’s concentration? Probably not. However picking faults and highlighting their flaws publicly, could have serious repercussions. Children struggle with bullying when it’s a fellow-student, how do they feel when it’s a teacher pointing his finger?

And what is the outcome of this little spat over uniform? The Headmaster has flexed his muscles and shown his staff, the pupils and their parents that you mean business. Great. The parents all hate you as you’ve humiliated their children and they are a further £20 out of pocket as they’ve had to buy another pair of shoes. The pupils are scared of you, and probably won’t approach you with a future problem, which could have serious consequences. And the other teachers all agree it was blown out of proportion and feel sorry for the pupils, but smile and nod when you ask for their opinion. All in all, not a bad start to the new term.

You could have achieved the same result with better side effects had the Headmaster dealt with this on a smaller scale. Teachers could have checked pupils’ uniforms whilst they are in the classroom, in form time, popped a note in their planner, sent a letter home. Any of these would have been a preferable alternative to being rejected at the school gates.

I think the children will have plenty of time to learn about rejection and conformity, about criticism and responsibility. But not when they’re feeling so vulnerable on their first day in a new environment, surrounded by new people.

People have been very vocal of their opinions on this situation. You will either agree with the headmaster and applaud his stand against wishy-washy uniforms or you will side with the pupils and parents: Surely, if the pupil has on black trousers, shirt, tie, blazer and black shoes, he/she is in uniform. End of.

But hey, what do I know? I don’t even have children. But I have graduated with a degree in psychology and my dissertation was focussed on anxiety within adolescents.

What do you think?

A xo

Psst! Using the links below, you’ll be able to read the articles relating to this post.

Daily Mail

The Independent

The Retford Times

 

by ChronicWriter

a Lush night in July

So every month around pay day, I go and treat myself at my local Lush store in Doncaster. I don’t drink, or smoke, or have a crazy hobby so this is how I celebrate the start of a new month.

This month I was really lucky to visit my cousin who lives in Manchester and like a true tourist walked around with my eyes wide and my mouth open, overwhelmed by the busyness of a city (this happens every time I leave the Shire and I should learn to expect this now!)

I was completely unaware there was more than one Lush store in Manchester centre – duh! I ended up in the smaller of the two and left feeling a little bit deflated. But then I had a “A-Ha!” when I Googled it later. Next time!

I bought a Butterball bath bomb – which is one of my Lush Legends – it smells lovely, it makes my skin feel amazing and it’s really gentle on the skin. Absolutely lovely and at an awesome price!

IMG_0572[1]

The day after Manchester-gate, I had to do a boring shopping day to get some new school (work) shoes and trousers for my new job (more on this later!). So I hit up Doncaster and it never fails to please me. I bought The Comforter bubble-bar which is also one of my Lush Legends. Each month, I pick one these up. It’s huge and one bar could easily do 3-4 baths, depending how bubbly/pink you prefer it. The aroma is really subtle and calming and who doesn’t just love a bubble bath? It also turns your bath water PINK!

comfrter

I have tried a Lip Scrub recently as well, the bubblegum flavoured one. This is a really great product to use in your “Going Out-Out” routine. Its great to prep your lips and exfoliate them before applying lipstick. It’s a little pricey for a small tub but a little goes a long way.

bble.pngBeing married to a Yorkshireman, I usually prefer a nice cup of tea in the morning, but lately I have been mad about coffee. And to tie this in with my morning routine, I’ve been waking my face up with the Cup ‘O Coffee face mask. Oh-my-! This brightens and exfoliates and smells like the best cup of java ever. An awesome product that I will buy again and again. It really does do what it says on the pot & all the ladies in the store use it too!

IMG_0442[1]

One thing I love about Lush products is that they are made from natural ingredients, which is so good for your skin and they are all animal cruelty free – so my conscious can relax too! I love that there is so much variety available, I’m not someone that can tolerate strong aromas, as they can trigger for a migraine. So it’s great that there are much gentler scents like Rose, Coconut, Lavendar and more. I have linked all the products in this post- so you can have a mooch around the Lush website.

I’m so happy with July’s purchases and the Lush Doncaster staff are uber helpful and their customer service is always spot on. Can’t wait for next month!

 

A xo