Am I the only woman that wished that she looked older?

I wish I could effectively express how much this bothers me; this is not just a small deal, this plays in my head daily, over and over, like someone is constantly pressing ‘play – rewind – play – rewind…’.

I’m not sure when it started, some point during secondary school I guess, although the ‘cute’ remarks were already noticeably patronising before the end of primary school.

I think the worst comment thus far was when I was shopping for wedding rings and was met with the remark, ‘are you serious?’. I mean come on, that’s just plain rude. Isn’t it?

I was so nervous about meeting my midwife for the first time purely because of how young I look. Before she had even stepped foot in my house, I just wanted to say, ‘The baby was planned, I’ve been married for 3 years, I’m older than I look’. I didn’t and, to her credit, I didn’t need to – she was lovely. The bank manager, on the other hand, was not. He asked if my bump was a nasty surprise *insert raised eyebrow emoticon here*. I kid you not.

People are rude. I think it’s so sad. Sad that I feel it necessary to justify my actions in fear of being judged. Sad that people find it acceptable to make others feel small. Sad.

I write this because I just looked in the mirror.

Pity party over.



First attempt at FreeWriting, this happened…

IMAG1153_1_1So, my course material arrived yesterday!!! Eeeeek. The adventure has officially started guys, so please *insert your wisdom here*. Lavish me in your awesomeness, go on.

Anyway, my new, and rather large, study book politely instructed me to undertake a free-writing task. It equipped me with my starting point; ‘The truth is that…’. 3 minutes, and GO! This is what happened:

The truth is that I have no idea who I am or what I am meant to be doing. I grew up and went through school without batting an eyelid – everything came so naturally to me – or so I thought. Perhaps the absolute, unchanging structure of school and education dictated my every move, forcing me to move this way and then that way – and maybe now, as I allow these words to pour on to the page before me, I am finally in a place to admit that I am lost. Perhaps, since leaving school, the overwhelming fear of ‘what next’ and the subconscious craving of direction has plunged me into darkness. I need to find light – maybe it will be as simple as flicking a switch or, better still, maybe I have found the switch as I’ve been writing? Who knows? God knows. Maybe I’ll awake tomorrow with a path illuminated in front of me – direction, that’s what I need, that’s how I live.

I’m pretty surprised by what splurged across my page. This creative stuff is apparently quite an eye opener…

Back in the Office #noinspirationhere

Back in the office today, staring out into nothing – with an office in Margate you would at least hope to be looking out over the sea. No such luck. My view consists of a one way street, a telephone pole, a lamppost that’s so close I could lick it, at least one seagull and a tyre shop. Yay. Oh, and the rain started today.

Anyway, since signing up for this Creative Writing course (Open University) my mind has been churning and bouncing ideas around non-stop. I’ve made so many random notes that I wonder if I’m going a little overboard. I have a headache.

My levels of excitement and nerves seem to be rising at the same pace, this is either going to be a magnificent venture or a complete disaster – I know which one I’m hoping for…

So guys, can you start giving me a few tips on how to write effectively? What is the one piece of advice that you stumbled upon and have religiously stuck to?

Thanks, from the bottom of my heart to the tip of my black pen.

Creative Writing? What was I thinking?!

Bloggers, help – please.

After months and months of being pulled in different directions, as a wife, mother, employee and overactive thinker, I FINALLY clicked ‘OK’ and signed up to start a degree. I was so excited to have reached the decision to enrol and start my ‘Social Sciences’ journey with the Open University but then those unsuspecting words snuck out from within my laptop and smacked me between the eyes, or something to that effect.

I feel in love with the course description; lured in by the clever, attractive words.

‘Congratulations and thank you for choosing to study Creative Writing with us’. Gulp.

Bloggers, help – please.

I start next month – which means that you guys do too.
Help me pick up my pen and write.
Help me transform my ‘Little Black Scribbles’.
Help me pass this course…
…who knows where this journey might lead us all…