10 Things I Find Scarier Than Halloween

1) My bank balance – Ah, when you think you have notes to throw at peasants but in fact you are the proud owner of €4.52.

2) The alarming rate my jeans shrink at when I spend that €4.52 on sausage rolls. 

3) “Opened 2 minutes ago” It’s gone past the minute mark, there is no way he is going to reply now. No matter how good the lighting was, how much makeup you have on or if your cleavage was pushed up to your eyeballs, it’s time to inform the bridesmaids and cancel the wedding. No looking back.

4) Seeing my ex on a night out after I’ve had a full bottle of prosecco to myself. A Halloween costume in itself to be honest.

5) Wearing spanx on a night out. Okay so my organs are all being squashed and I’m pretty sure my tummy blubber has nowhere to go but up to my 45 chins, but this is completely fine.

6) Life as an adult. Look, I refuse to ring the doctor or the dentist. I’ll just let this toothache take me and if this is how I go so be it, nice knowing you all xx

7) That time I voluntarily let some fella pierce my nipple.

8) Trying to be sexy in a bodysuit. “Sorry, it’s a bodysuit, let me just open that there. Sorry, hang on a second, sorry.” *falls off bed and ghosted into oblivion*

9) When you’ve been texting him again and your friends find out. He’s changed gals, promise. You know what they say, 746th time lucky.

10) Tinder. I constantly feel like Jane arriving in the jungle and have yet to find Tarzan.

My 24 Hours Without The Kettle

I woke up at 8:25am on a much anticipated Monday morning. I stayed in bed listening to the start of the howling wind until the words “Feeeee, tea!” made my body get up and hurry down the stairs, similarly to a child on Christmas morning. I sipped away like I would any other day and stared out of the window at the darkening skies and swaying trees. As I took my final sip, and this was actually final, unlike many others I always finish every bit of my cup of tea, even the last drop. So, as I took this final sip I placed the mug on the tea-stained coffee table and kept on living as normal – Snapping friends, arguing with my brother, communicating with my cats through the window, etc. However, as the clock struck 9:30 (ish, the details are all a blur) and the glow of the lamp beside me fell into darkness, it suddenly hit me – The power had gone. Storm Ophelia hadn’t even fully arrived yet and she had already taken the power… my power. “What now?” I pondered as my wifi disappeared and my 3G failed to load. “Oh, yes! I’ll make a cup of tea.” I decided, but it was not that simple.

I then spotted my dad braving the walk from the kitchen to sitting room, carrying a pot over to the fire. At this point I realised that this was our kettle for the day. And you know how they say a watched pot never boils, well the creators of that saying had a bloody valid point. As everyone became engrossed by the sheer power and beauty of mother nature, I watched this pot and the raging flames beneath it. Wrapped up in a blanket, I stayed on the couch snuggled up like a human sausage roll and waited. The teapot was becoming more and more lonely on the coffee table. I lifted the lid, all that remained at the bottom of the teapot was a trickle of warm water from an hour ago and two used teabags. Nothing else was going through my mind, I no longer cared about the lack of phone service or the lack of light in the room, I just needed a fresh, easily made cuppa. Was this addiction?

After three pathetic (great effort though) cups of tea, by 8:30 that evening I had my hat and coat on, ready to brave the remainder of the howling winds and head into my dad’s workplace. Did I bring my phone charger? No, the only thing in my arms was a flask which I was protecting with every maternal instinct within me. Our neighbours were also without power, so my dad’s shop was our only salvation. After the 15 minute journey, I prayed to every saint, god and deceased pet that the power would be on here. When the lights worked I made my way towards the kitchen area and I stared at the kettle for a moment. How beautiful it looked, so curvy and inviting, offering a warmth for all. The boiling sound increased and filled my ears like a beautiful melody composed by one of the greats. As the water poured into the flask, the steam rose and my imagination brought it to life, making it seem to grow into blissful shapes and pictures – Biscuits, doughnuts, puppies, Zac Efron topless, you name it.

On arrival home I realised that every cup of tea that day had a strange taste to it. It did not sit as well with me as tea usually does, but it had to do. It was the usual no sugars, bit of milk and nice chunky mug, but something was different. This tea was not made with tender loving care, it was made out of necessity, the desire to feed the addiction. I went to bed at 10:30 that night, allowing my thoughts to fall out of craving and into a blissful slumber.

The next morning I got dressed in darkness with a dead iPhone beside me. As 9:15 arrived and a lamp began to flicker, something inside of me also flickered. I think this flickering was hope. Hope kept me going through my 24 hours without the kettle, and as the lamp turned on for good, I ran out onto the landing, my ears expanding to hear the sound that I knew was coming – The boiling, the beautiful boiling. I smiled to myself and continued getting ready. When I was a little bit more glam and ready to go, I made my way downstairs, and even though my phone was still dead, the fire unlit and there was a slight chill in the air, the four cups of tea in a row on the coffee table seemed to put everything back together again, as if Ophelia had never come near the Fox household. I know this storm changed me and I can’t explain how, but all I know is this house had once again become a home and four mugs awoke four souls. Oh, I also found out that a watched pot NEVER boils so don’t even try making eggs on the fireplace mid mini hurricane!

Me, You and a Ghost or Two

There are too many negative dating terms lately. I’ve been benched, breadcrumbed, cushioned, ghosted and bloody french toasted more times than I can count at this stage. Ok, so I don’t think french toasted is an actual dating trend term but I’m sure it will be eventually. You heard it here first, folks. Funnily enough, anytime I read about the latest dating trend it seems it is happening to me at this exact moment. Whether he is sending the odd sexual suggestion every few weeks or cancelling every date we plan, when rain begins to fall on blossoming relationships in 2017 you can guarantee that Fenella Fox has been hit by gale force winds, severe floods and a flying trampoline or two.

I can’t keep up with my own hunt for love these days, anytime I start to develop any sort of feelings I feel like I’m going on some deadly expedition with Frodo and that dodgy ring. To be honest, for me the amazing excitement was taken out of dating once I hit man number 7 who told me he didn’t want a relationship and my mum’s “There haven’t been that many, you can still count them on one hand!” logic went down the toilet quicker than my phone on a night out.

For me, love comes with too many limits these days. Unfortunately, my alcohol intake doesn’t though, nor does my cheesy pasta consumption. In more recent years, this little girl’s dream of her wedding dress has definitely morphed into the dream of an outfit for a second date. Actually, even a first date because I don’t know if we can consider spooning with one eyelash hanging off after 3am or vomiting out of his car door as a first date. I’m kidding of course, I don’t vomit while in the presence of potential love interests, only old ones who shook me off a long time ago and I begin to feel lonely after that third shot of tequila sets in and they start to look like a great idea, similarly to the platefuls of cheesy pasta.

I had to change my music taste recently too, I soon realised eighties love isn’t welcome in 2017 so I feel perhaps it is more appropriate to listen to the music from the Conjuring or Insidious instead whenever I start to develop feelings. I mean, you can’t say you’ve been too badly ghosted by a man if you’re being dragged out of bed by the devil, can you? Surely that’s worse? Although sometimes these supernatural forces are less scary than the ghosts from my romantic past and at times I wonder whether I would prefer to be dragged out of bed by the devil rather than happily climb into bed with him.

My nan asked me whether my hair frightens men away, but to be honest, in my dating life the excessive volume of my scrunch dry is the only thing that keeps protecting me from the force of the blow. And as for the ever changing colours? I like to keep them on their toes.

So many people don’t want labels on their dating life, so why do dating trends have so many names? Why do people think it’s normal to have a ghost in their life rather than a boyfriend? Why do I have to scroll through Cosmo anytime my love life goes pear shaped and I need to put a name on what has happened this time? Or more importantly, how can I be told I’ve been benched when I wasn’t even aware I was sitting on it? Why are we allowing men to treat us as subs when it is quite clear we’re wanted out on the field by the real players who have no intentions of playing us at all?

Time to get off this bench and stop the ghost hunting because this woman has got a life to live and dating trends are harder to keep up with than Game of Thrones when you’ve missed the first three seasons. No, don’t bother texting me in six weeks time because all you’ll find is a dusty bench and strands of my old hair colour. Byeeeeeee.

Ok I’m bored and desperate for attention, maybe I’ll just reply the once…

Am I Going Crazy?

There is something surprisingly comforting about the moment when you hear girls talk about the lads in their life who have referred to them as “psycho.” As a female, you can often feel like you’re in it alone when you’re storming around your room and blaring Dua Lipa New Rules. Sometimes things can build up to the point where you can actually feel yourself gradually going insane. You want nothing more than to text a load of boys who couldn’t give a crap about you while you mentally attack the master of mind games in your life with a shoe. Yes, there is something comforting about the desire to fall into the arms of men who will only hold you for a moment while you’re on the mission to get over the arms who act like they want to hold you but somehow always end up letting go of their grip.

Tip toeing around your problems is about as elegant as a Saturday night dance floor grind. I am curious about how many girls are currently staring at their phone only to see plenty of messages from the girls saying “Don’t text him!” but there are no texts from him. Not one text has been sent from the phone of that man who had sent you so many sweet texts previously. No matter how many squad members try to help you keep the psycho in (bless them the sweethearts, they always mean well,) sometimes you need to take control of your own life before your own thoughts suffocate you or convince you to do stupid things to intentionally try and ruin his life because you believe that is the answer to long term happiness. Example 1 – Hitting on his best friend. Example 2 – Eh, only to be looked into if example 1 doesn’t work well enough, but it might be an idea to have a supply of eggs ready to go. Also, if you’re anything like me, every group needs that bold member who always sends that third unanswered text to determine whether Saturday night needs to be a vodka or wine night.

As much as we hate to admit it, every girl has at least one guy, if not two, who make her blood boil like the contents of Mount Vesuvius just before it took out Pompeii. You try your best to act completely normal around him but all you can think is “Wow, here you are talking to me about your new job yet yesterday evening I was almost shaking backwards and forwards in the corner of my bedroom or about to come down the stairs backwards while my head was spinning 360 degrees.” Yes, this is normal, it just means you care about this little peasant boy who at this moment in time just looks like the poo emoji in your mind. Mature I know, but whatever helps you to drag him kicking and screaming off his pedestal.

The most frustrating thing about all of this? The fact that you probably just stubbed your baby toe on a door or hit yourself on the head with your phone by accident while in a complete fit of rage (just me?) and he is probably sitting on his own bed laughing away about the influence he is having on you while he throws more junk into his bubbling cauldron.

Is it just me? Am I just easily wound up like an old fashioned music box or are today’s men becoming increasingly good at making us question our level of sanity?

The General Snap and An Eyelash Attack

I’M BACK! You’re probably all wondering where I’ve been recently, right? Well, unless it’s only my mum reading this, and if that’s the case then sorry to break it to you mum but I haven’t been in the kitchen packing the dishwasher so please stop getting your hopes up.

Since my last post in July I have been over to the Czech Republic, to my first festival and recovering from several absolutely horrendous doses of the fear… again…  No, but honestly, these ones were bad.

Example number one – I think one of my SOSU eyelashes is in some random fellas bed and I am waiting for him to be super creeped out when he stumbles upon it someday soon. No, don’t get excited, there is nothing exciting to report there, not even a cheeky kiss. There were several of us in one bed and I dozed off fully clothed and without a spoon while chatting complete and utter nonsense. Actually raging though, don’t really wanna be forking out six quid on a new pair of lashes when those ones were in mint condition. Here’s hoping he has the cop on not to bin it since I can’t really text him asking him to save it because, well how creepy would that be? Imagine receiving a text from a girl asking you to save her eyelashes? “Alright mate, lost me eyelashes in your bed, keep them safe on your bedside locker for me if you find them… cheers x” I mean, I know I’m probably a locally renowned nutter (borderline bunny boiler according to some past lovers I will admit) but that would be crossing the line a tad.

Example number two – I sent a guy a drunken “general” snap because I wanted him to reply, but I actually captioned it “General snap” Would you actually be well living on earth at the same time as me? I had to leave the snap below because for some reason I saved it, probably thinking I was an absolute HOOT. Honestly, I am so glad I did save it because no one can benefit from it fully until they actually see it. Just look at it. LOOK AT IT. Okay moving on… Oh, he did reply by the way, so god definitely exists or I have a very loyal guardian angel who wouldn’t let this gal go down without a fight!

Back to the topic of lashes, the weekend before that one my Duo Glue worked so bloody well that I was unable to open one eye properly so I spent the night looking like I was winking at everyone. What could potentially look seductive on a huge portion of the world’s female population did me absolutely no favours and I even spooked myself out, never mind any of the lads I encountered that night. Saying that, I missed half the room because I could only see past my scrunch dry on one side. I can never see sense on a normal night, so look, whatever mortifying things happened that night we can blame on one eye being stuck together and my inability to see things clearly. Ahem, general snaps…

It’s only today that I could finally face blogging about my recent shenanigans. I have plenty of things to say but finding a way to say them is a different story. Mainly because nothing in my life has dramatically changed, including my attitude to junk food and unreliable men – both are still causing me serious problems but also providing comfort as summer draws to a close. Ah, the joys of being a hopeless romantic with thunder thighs. Below are some pics of myself and my reactions while heading in and out of toxic situations, please take a moment to enjoy them. Yes, food is always an important part of life no matter what life is currently throwing at me.

I will leave it there for today, although I do have plenty of things to update you all on so don’t worry, I shall be back!

Talk soooooon xx

My Early Midlife Crisis

It has been over a week since I made the absolutely insane decision of getting some random man to shove a needle through my nipple. I was hungover, extremely hungover. As my whole body was not functioning properly I decided it would be the perfect time to finally get that nipple piercing I have wanted since last year. Although I have to say, I did judge this perfectly and the pain didn’t hit me fully because I had already been through the wars the night before and all I could think was “Just take me and my nipple too…” I then came home to a list of people who asked “Why did you do that??” To be completely honest, I have absolutely no bloody idea. The sign on the door said they were gone for lunch so I was taking it as a sign and about to do a runner until the guy who worked there ran to remove the sign. Oh bloody hell.

The expectations were all too high, I had promised my friends I would and my sister was there beside me all smiley, waiting for this unnecessary pain and utter humiliation to fall upon her baby sister. You know what I was thinking? My whole body is drowning in misery and now I have committed to turning my nipple into some sort of freaky kebab skewer thing… absolutely bloody fantastic. I did it, I survived it and now I love it. Although, this is me, so it’s only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose and it becomes infected or falls off during a casual conversation in the smoking area with some potential shift.

How is life after the nip piercing you may ask? Ever since that trauma, nothing too exciting has been happening apart from forcing my best friend to google the distance to a hot guy’s home place from our exact location so I could edit my Tinder settings in the hope of finding him. Guess what? I didn’t. Mystery man does not appear to be on Tinder. Well, I’m not too upset. I mean we literally spoke once, but now I will never know what could have been with that random man who could genuinely have been a millionaire, a serial killer, or both. Like I said, I will never know. Sigh.

I have decided that I am definitely going through a very early midlife crisis. Piercings in strange places and stalking the home place of random men is not something that 7-year-old me had planned for her future as lead actress in the newest Bratz movie. I also didn’t think my greatest fears would be my life goals or bikini waxes but look, here we are. Also, are Bratz even still a thing? Do they still have heads bigger than my future?

If this wasn’t all dodgy enough, my family went away for a few days so I had a free house. Plans of a wild session turned into me eating chicken nuggets alone while crying my eyes out watching The Way We Were. That isn’t an exaggeration, I cried like a baby which was a pretty delayed reaction considering the movie came out in 1973. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and I just had my dog staring and judging me from her basket as I gobbled up that 7th nugget and washed it down with a bottle of cheap lager. I cannot explain what happened to me that night. I have been super positive the past few weeks but all of a sudden I had to wail. A lot. It was sad. So sad that I can’t even blame the dog for judging me because she was so right – morto!

After this, I cleaned my nipple piercing and went to bed. Alone. Just me and my dodgy nip against the world. I was in no way drunk, I think I cried out the few bottles I drank. The good news is I am fine now, although I can’t look at my dog in the same way ever again without thinking about how she witnessed this break down of my entire character and being. Say nothing, girlo. What happens in 1973, stays in 1973.

How To Break Up Your Bestie And Her Boyf

Okay, I don’t actually have the answers or a way to break up your bestie and her boyf because a true friend shouldn’t want to do that unless she’s dating the lad off the Go Compare advert… but thanks for clicking anyway and please keep reading below because my own self pity just isn’t enough…

We’ve all been there, smiling along and trying to be happy for our friends who are happily in relationships or slowly but surely getting to that stage with a delightful man. Of course we all want the best for our girls but lets be honest, you know, I know and they know a small part of us is thinking “You bitches!” Trust me, this is coming from a girl who is currently picking the spot on her chin while listening to “On My Own” from Les Mis. I also had a wasp in my bed earlier, the only other weight that’s been in bed with me for a while I can assure you! So here you are, watching your friends tag their boyfriends in relationship memes, bitterly liking their Instagrams together to be a supportive friend, all the while being left on read and feeling like none other than Bridget Jones at the start of the movie when All By Myself is playing.

So how do you try to distract yourself from this? How can you hold onto hope that your knight in shining armour is on his way when you find yourself creeping on your ex again because you get so desperate and bitter you question whether he was the one and that twat in tinfoil just slipped straight through your fingers? How can you remain positive when the most romantic texts you’re getting are the ones from your mum to let you know she bought you chicken dippers today when she went shopping?

After the tremendous pain that you experience when you feel like your heart is being stabbed by your friend’s boyfriend while your friend is the one stabbing you in the back, it is time to take a step back and look at the situation clearly. Sure, you may have lost your fellow unlovable and emotionally messed up companion, but at least she is hope for the future that some man may one day fall for a psycho like you and look past your (many, trust me there are A LOT of them) flaws and quirks.

I think it is normal to look at couples around you and feel a little resentful because the grass will always be greener on the other side. Why don’t you ask yourself, what are you sad about? Being alone? Losing your best friend? Feeling extra alone now that you’ve lost your best friend? Or are you just being a little overdramatic because you know when she’s in this comfortable relationship watching Netflix and going out on dinner dates with her other half you know she will be less likely to accompany you on the adventure of egging a f*ckboy’s car or picking you up off the nightclub toilet floor because she’s possibly in bed by 10 or has to be up early for a romantic day out?

As you’re on your eighth ferrero rocher you can’t seem to get visions of her wedding out of your head and all the bridesmaids beside you who have already walked down the aisle and there you are, bang splat in the middle of youthful friendship and forever. Surely forever finds everyone eventually and no one truly knows when they have found it. Do I want forever to find me today or is forever so frightening that it knows to wait until my timing is nothing but magic? Or am I making up crappy excuses because I know I obsess over emotionally unavailable idiots who don’t obsess over me in return and there is a 99% chance I need a good slap across the face with a flip flop??

I know how you’re feeling, you’re feeling like you wouldn’t stand out in a crowd of sloths, like you’ll never find love and keeping it real here, you’re feeling like you bloody need the shift. A good old passionate smooch… preferably with a lad from Hollister but lets be realistic the chances of him waving goodbye to Lauren in knitwear for a disaster like you are slim when you are too afraid of making eye contact with an attractive male (me all over) and always stroll into the shop squinting dramatically because you don’t have your glasses on and no one can seem to find the bloody lights in these stores!

Never fear girls, this feeling is normal when you’re forever alone like I am and my best advice is keep bopping along to The Spice Girls Wannabe and keep those spirits high because when shit hits the fan you’ve got to have your best friend game face on and ready to slay some satan spawn. Although, be prepared because of course they will get back together, and yes, you have to have a game face for that moment too because nobody likes a miserable bridesmaid unless your friend is marrying the guy I mentioned in the first sentence of this post and in that case I will even help you plan how to skip the wedding altogether without your bestie giving you the silent treatment for the next 39 years… mysterious contagious bug that takes down entire wedding parties, anyone?!

The Mystery Of Men

Men think differently to us women, this is no secret. Don’t get me wrong, I love men. Men are lovely, men are cuddly, and men are constantly stuck in my brain. However, men are not me and because of this I cannot work them out, not even for a second. In fact, I’ve given up trying (for tonight anyway!) I’ve even convinced my mum of the strange ways of the males of our generation, for so long she tried to keep my hope for true love and romance there but overtime I think the same experiences repeating themselves only made her think “My god, my daughter is absolutely tragic.” She used to tell me I was overthinking everything but now whenever I don’t get a text back for more than eight hours she is the one wallowing on the floor in self pity while I’m sitting there like “Meh, what’s new, another cuppa please dad!”

I am not sure how their brains work, all I know is, not very well or so well that I am wayyyyy behind. They do things that leave us trying to work out the logic for a period of 47 years and then when we question it they don’t want to discuss it. Oh I’m sorry, can you not discuss your master plans for world domination after 8pm? Was he even aware I was confused or was he watching the football whilst eating a crunchie without a care in the world? Enlighten me please and pass me a crunchie.

Do you ever notice when you confront them about something they shouldn’t have done they lose the plot, call you psycho and avoid the topic completely? Just me? You try to tell him something stupid he did that upset you and suddenly you’re going to boil his bunny, he’s listing all your insecurities, he wants you to move to the Australian Outback alone forever so your presence is no longer wrecking his head and there’s dramatic full stops flying all over the shop. Verdict, ladies? WE FIND THE DEFENDANT… GUILTY.

Why do they also decide to drop off the face of the earth every so often and then come strolling back into your life happily as if they’ve just woken up from a nap that lasted seven months? Where have you been? Who have you been with? Why did you come back? What’s your name again? Why does the elastic band theory mean I’m the only one who is getting injured from the force of it? WHY AM I STILL STUPID ENOUGH TO TEXT YOU BACK WITHIN THREE SECONDS???

Also, they seem to think liking your selfie after ruining your life and breaking your heart automatically puts them on top of your list again? Back away, Satan. After many 80’s love songs and tear soaked pillows, we all decided you were better off left in hell. ‘All’ referring to my mum, nan, sister, two best friends and I guess me after a lot of convincing and attempts to tear the phone out of my hand so I don’t send you any cringey messages. Hey, at least I’m honest.

We just think differently, it really is true. Whenever my friends are like ‘Why did he do this??’ I always try to offer wisdom and make up a load of crap to comfort them, when in reality my head is thinking ‘WHY DID HE DO THIS?’ Does anyone know? Do his friends know? Does Beyonce know? Does he even know? Like not being funny, us girls overthink everything, we need answers, we make up solutions for everything and pull them out of thin air and magical kingdoms far far away. I bet Liam Payne’s ex-girlfriends bestfriends were like ‘Gal bet he only did that to make you jealous’ after Cheryl gave birth to their baby recently. You heard it here first…

Are all men mentally up on Mars having a laugh at how worked up we get over things? Do they have a notebook full of organised, colour coded plans or do they just act on impulse? Will we ever know what goes on in their heads or was the world supposed to be this way… forever?

SEND HELP. SEND VODKA.

Side note: Potential boyfriends still welcome, don’t be shy xx

Moments With My Mum

I couldn’t let Mother’s Day pass without dedicating a post to the most brutally honest, annoying, bossy bestie – my mum. Even though we kill each other, she comes out with some classic lines when it comes to advising me on love and I always have girls saying “Your mum is so cool about things, you can tell her everything!” I have listed a few classic mum moments below for you to have a giggle about and maybe some of you can even relate if your mother is your best friend and half as mad as mine. Hope you enjoy!

“I would hate to be your age now, men these days are weird!”
Okay, she has a point with that one…


“How was the date? Was he nice? Was it awkward? Did you find out if he has a crazy ex-girlfriend?”

Yeah of course mum, “I’ll have the chicken and a sprite, what would your ex usually order?”

“Thought you didn’t even want a boyfriend last week, why are you crying?”
People change, time moves on.

*Mid emotional breakdown* “If you’re feeling up to it later, can you hang the washing out and peel the spuds?”
Time to start dramatically singing about my miserable life at the washing line again…

“These phones are awful, you’re always checking up on each other. I never used to know what your dad was doing from one day to the next and that time he went to England in 2010 he didn’t ring me all week, I didn’t know if he was dead or alive!”
Are we not over that time yet, nah?

“If he can’t see your worth he doesn’t deserve you anyway. WAIT, ACTUALLY! Maybe he heard about your psycho moments and he has seen you drunk?”
Yep, thanks mum, really highlighting that worth right now.

“If you want someone to cuddle, go and cuddle your dad”
FOR THE FIFTH TIME, IT’S NOT THE SAME, MUM.

“Someday, someone is going to sweep you off your feet when you’re least expecting it, you just haven’t met him yet!”
And something we all know to be true… Mums are ALWAYS right.

Happy Mother’s Day! Xx

The Fear

Since it is finally Sunday (longest weekend ever) and I have had the opportunity all day to reflect on my life whilst dying a little, I have decided to write a short, light hearted post about the fear. If you have never heard of the fear, I would like you to know that there is actually nothing light hearted about it. The only way I can describe it is as something that consumes you and quite easily ruins your life. After a heavy night of drinking you will wake up to 73 Snapchats you can’t even remember but yet at the time decided it was a good idea to send to every lad on your contact list, there will be 45 texts abusing your ex who you broke up with four years ago, a load of nip slips on your Snapchat story that went unnoticed the night before, you will also have to mentally prepare yourself before you open your handbag to check for your favourite lipstick which is now long gone and probably sitting in a toilet cubicle somewhere along with your dignity, tears, age card and possibly your best friend who you more than likely lost twenty minutes into the night.

The only way to truly escape the fear is by not drinking, something I was supposed to be doing last night until I woke up this morning with the realisation that I in fact did not listen to my own advice… AGAIN. For me, the fear is usually waking up on Sunday morning and staring at the ceiling in complete and utter horror drowning in the lingering smell of kebab in my bedroom until the 73 Snapchats get opened and my ex leaves me on read or replies, which are both equally as annoying as each other. Sorry hun, I’m not the same gal I was six hours ago, I’ll talk to you next Saturday instead!

I had avoided the fear for a good while, being so wary of my alcohol intake considering two sips in I usually end up crying about anything and everything. There was also a time when I ended up throwing a slice of fruit at a guy as a way of handling the situation. Yessss let me fire this slice of fruit at his head and miss, that will really show him! No, the only thing it showed me was how dreadful my aim is and that drink makes me more bitter than the actual lemon itself. Also, my pride in that moment looked as pathetic as the squashed lemon slice on the floor. Ladies, I would not recommend it unless your aim is at least 400 times better than mine and he has a wide head. Ohhhh the fruit, ohhhh the fear.

Anyway, to finish off this post, I would just like to remind all of you that we all have the fear and people probably don’t remember what you did because they’re so busy trying to slow down their heart rate as they’re staring at their bedroom ceiling trying to piece together the antics of the night, lemons and all. No matter how good her Instagram selfie is, there was definitely more to that night than the caption.

Hope you all enjoyed this post and are recovering from the long weekend! Don’t panic about dealing with the consequences when you meet your friends/co-workers tomorrow morning, just avoid eye contact at all costs until at least Tuesday afternoon…

Have a lovely week everybody! xx

Side note: Please see picture below which shows me trying to smile and be cool about the fact I’m three vodkas in but forgot to put any fruit or veg in my clutch…oooops…

Oh, another side note, anyone else LOVING fishnets lately?! Yes I am changing the subject, we can’t dwell on the weekend forever people, life goes on…