Head Space

Hi World. I don’t know if you have ever had those times when you are constantly questioning… Who the bleep am I? What am I doing with my life? Why have I matched black knick-knacks with a grey training bra circa 1997?

No? Just me? Well to that I say bollocks. We all have moments in our life when it feels a bit like we are being washed away in a tide of uncertainty and that the only constant in our life is that Escape to the Country will be on at 7pm with a seemingly contented couple who just DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO with their half a million pound budget that *GULP* they could increase if necessary if it had JUST that couple more acres of land for the horses. *SIGH*

Now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t about money or property or marriage or horses; it is about the fact that constantly in our society we are being asked to compare ourselves to other people. Whether it be through social media and the dreaded selfie, job promotions, or, as my last post highlighted some poor girl in a yellow bikini in search of a bucket and spade. Which, let’s all be honest for a second, is not a healthy thing to be doing and we are all guilty of it. BIG TIME. 

The self-comparison, not the bucket and spade search. We all need a bucket and spade once in a while.

Our bodies and minds are fragile, wonderful things that we need to take care of. I am only just learning this lesson aged 28, but better late than never.  As the daughter of a father who has manic depression and a mother who suffered badly from anxiety attacks, I come with a dollop of all of the above and awareness of more. 

If we sprain our foot (whilst doing a Baywatch impression and running into a lake) or burn our hand (by leaving the paper on the minced beef whilst frying it) then we don’t think twice about going to the doctors or ladling two inches worth of Sudacrem on top of the offending wound. But if we have a wobble in our mind or an unexplainable sensation of feeling low or out of kilter, it does not seem as easy to ask for help. And yet it should be. 

 

As a society we are slowly but surely getting better at tackling mental health issues and eradicating the fear and taboo that surrounds talking about them but boy have we got a long, long way to go. 

One incredible thing to come out of my current wobble is the discovery of the app Head Space. It’s a meditation app that gently trains you to have ten minutes of meditation a day, just a little breather from all the thoughts that are currently enjoying a hearty barn dance in your brain. If you think about it, after a long day of work you put your feet up to give them a rest, why not do the same for your brain?

Have a gander, I dare you: https://www.headspace.com/

A wise man once told me in hushed tones, “Nobody is sorted, not all of the time.” And this is what I’m telling myself whilst watching Bob and June browse their six bedroom property. “Nobody is sorted, not all of the time.” 

And that is ok. In fact, it’s human.

Beach Body Ready... Or not

The big question on everyone's lips at the moment is this: is this woman beach body ready? Well, first and foremost, let’s leave the body part until later and tackle the real issue here: is she beach ready? And the answer is plain and simple: absolutely not. 

I see no sign of the all-important bucket and spade, no streaky sun cream and seriously does she think that flimsy yellow bikini will hold out against a wave off the coast of Weston Super Mare? Oh no my friend. We’ve all been there and, in the words of Alan Partridge, she will need to put ‘the boys back in the barracks’.  Or rather ‘the girls’, as the case may be.

What kind of self-respecting company would put such a highly unprepared vulnerable woman at the fore-front of its advertising campaign? This poor girl doesn’t know what she’s letting herself in for. She hasn’t got a beach bag to carry the essentials in, (Factor 50 if, like me, you are so white that moths are attracted to you), no sign of any flip flops (I mean for crying out loud, how on EARTH, is she meant to go rock pooling without footwear?!), and no HAT. I mean, come on. A burnt scalp isn’t good at the best of times but next to that garish yellow dental floss of a swimsuit? HELLO, CLASHAGE!

No towel either! How could I forget the towel?! She's going to have to do what any self-respecting woman does when the loos at work run out of paper. Shake dry.

Now, onto the body... Protein World, I would have you know that she most certainly is NOT beach body ready. For one, she needs some embarrassing stray hairs on either her legs/pits/vadge. Two, she needs at least 5 dimples of cellulite. And three, she needs one, if not more, strategically placed bogies hanging out of her nose (from the waves not a cold, although who am I to dictate her state of health and without that towel the risk of her catching a chill is HIGHLY increased).

People of the world, we need to find this woman and warn her NOT to go to the beach. She simply is NOT ready yet. Let’s type her up a beach inventory, get her a sandy sandwich but most important of all, give her a hug because we need to turn that frown upside down.