The Value of Valentines

So, as everybody must know by now, Valentine’s day is on Thursday.

That’s right, the day that makes singles cry into their wine and forces couples to be nice to each other is fast approaching, but is it really just a commercial holiday?

As a teenager, I hated the idea of Valentine ’s Day, even when I had Ian to celebrate it with. Why should you need a day to celebrate your love? Surely you must celebrate it every day? I never had a problem with buying Ian gifts, but I have always had this bad habit of doing the opposite of what people tell me.

But now, as a semi-functioning adult I can appreciate Valentine’s. Balancing a degree, work, family visits, social life and relationship is hard. It’s like juggling and when you drop a ball all the others fall apart.

So, it’s nice to have a day dedicated to spending time with Ian with no questions asked. Despite living together, we barely see each other because he works weekdays and I work weekends. And, Valentine’s is more of a reason than an excuse to the people around me.


Friend: Do you want to go out tonight?

Me: *Thinks I haven’t seen Ian in ages.* Nooo, sorry. * Please keep inviting me places and don’t hate me.*


Friend: Do you want to go out tonight?

Me: I simply cannot do the act you ask of me. Alas, it is Valentine’s Day and I must spend it with my beloved. Do not seek an apology, as you will not find one.

As for the gifts, we never go all out because we simply can’t afford to. We both put some money towards the date and get each other little gifts that we want or need. Last year I bought Ian an Xbox game, which, granted isn’t the most romantic gift in the world. But, it is something he wanted but couldn’t afford. And he got me perfume, because I had run out and he knew it’s not the sort of thing I’d buy myself.

I think that’s why our relationship works pretty well. When it matters (like engagements, getting a house etc.) I’m very materialistic and high maintenance. However, on small occasions like Valentines and Christmas, I would rather have the stuff I need or have wanted for a while, than some cringey card and expensive jewellery.

But that’s just me. Valentine’s is very commercialised, but I like the day itself. I just wish there weren’t so many adverts.

The Most Awkward Thing You’ll Ever See

Well, well, well, what do we have here?

A blog, you say? Well, what if I were to tell you that I have transformed, evolved into a vlogger?

Now, don’t you worry. I’ll still write on here, this place is far too important to leave alone. But for now, I have spent literally 12 hours making a 6 minute Vlog for you all. Isn’t that dedication?

In all seriousness, I had no idea how long that was going to take. I am not a hard worker. I am lazy. And that shit was hard.

Anyway, I’d appreciate it if you’d go and check it out and, if you’re feeling generous, subscribe. I apologise in advance for my own awkwardness.

Please be nice, I pretend to be badass but deep down I’m just a little squirrel.

That would be all!




Dating a dentist

I have been with my boyfriend, Ian, for almost 5 years now.

Every time I tell someone this, they automatically go ‘Awh, how cute.’ And, it is cute, but it’s not all fun and games.

This is mostly because he is a Dental Nurse, and spends an awful lot of time inspecting my teeth, even when I’m not expecting it.

The other day I was smiling at him, and he smiled back. I thought it was a sweet, romantic moment where he was happy that I was happy. But no, he was just happy because he could see that I flossed.

I also get ‘surprise trips’ after I asked if we could go on some adventures. On my day off last week he called me and asked me to go to his work for a check up. I asked when and he said ‘Now.’ Bearing in mind I was sat in my dressing gown dunking a Chunky into my tea, that was not what I meant by an adventure.

So, in I went. He even took a break so that he could use the saliva slurper on me.  When most girls say ‘he stuck it too far in and I choked’ they’re referring to something dirty. But not me, I literally mean he stuck a tube in my mouth and I have a terrible gag reflex. To be fair to him, that wasn’t his fault. He is good at his job, it’s just his job that’s not pleasant.

I hear so many horror stories, I’m surprised I’m not mentally scarred. Apparently, blood gets on the ceiling and he has to clean it after every patient.

I also know lots of long words like buccal and prochlorperazine. What do they mean? I have no idea but I know them.

I guess it’s not all bad. I get free toothpaste and I’ll always know when I need a filling. Who needs romance when you have private treatments at NHS prices?

Who needs feet, anyway?

Those who know me know that I am a big fan of Doc Martens, and (big fashionista that I am) they are an essential part of my outfit.

I mean, aside from the odd socks. What I don’t understand is, why are pairs of odd socks a thing? Why would you pay £3 for something that poor people do for free after their washing machines have devoured their nicest pair?

Anyway, back to the not-so-important point… I love Docs and have a large collection, from Adventure Time to strange tartan, there’s a pair for every outfit.

So, it would only make sense that I asked Ian for another pair for Christmas. This came with VERY specific instructions, because I made the mistake of asking for Doc Martens before and ended up with shiny ones that wouldn’t go with any outfit at all.

I said:
‘Plain matte black Docs. Size 4. Like these ones’ and showed him a picture. He went and bought some, and checked with me before he even bought them. They were a size bigger, which I knew was fine because I’d only just discovered that I’d been wearing the wrong size all my life.

So Christmas came, I pretended to be surprised when I opened them, and everything was great. Until I started to walk in them.

I just couldn’t walk. My legs weren’t working the right way, they were either bending too much or not at all. Then came the blisters. I can deal with blisters, but my foot seemed to be more of one huge blister than an actual foot.

Then came the numbness. I was at the pub with my mum at the time, and we were about to stop at the local on the way home. I managed to get to the local before ripping my swollen, blue blister out of the shoe.

I could not get that shoes back on my foot, so I walked home the rest of the way. Some men in the pub were laughing at me and asked if my Docs were new, so I assumed they just needed wearing in. And, being the stubborn bitch I am, I continued to wear them for a few days, but there was no improvement.

After getting back to Crewe, I left them for about two weeks and gave my feet time to heal. I decided I would try again, you know, to ‘wear them in.’ I walked all the way to Nando’s, (I know, how cheeky) but had to get a taxi back when my popped blisters got blisters. This was a new level of pain I had never experienced, I’m pretty sure it’s up there with child birth.

Yet the stubbornness in me raged on, and this morning, I decided I would wear them yet again. On the way to uni I picked up some blister plasters, because I am an adult and there was something very adult-ish about that. I stuck the plasters on when I got to lecture, and now, even though my feet are numb, there is no pain. But then again, I am sat down. I’m also pretty sure I just limped to the toilet.

I don’t know what it is. I bought some insoles for them (yet another adult thing to do, I’m on a role.) so that can’t be what’s wrong. Maybe it’s because their a size too big, but my other Docs are fine? Whatever the reason behind my suffering is, I’m so close to not having feet thanks to the inherited stubbornness I possess. (Thanks, Mum. Of all the things to pass down, why that trait?)

I’ll let you all know how my walk home goes when I’m writing my next Blog from the hospital.

Enjoy your non-painful week. And if anybody knows what my problem is, let me know please.

Life on The Nexplanon

Contraceptives are weird. There are penis sacks and vagina anchors, and pills that builds a wall around the entryway of the twinkle.
I thought I was well informed of the many different types of pill, but I have literally only just discovered there are three types of pill, one of which ‘thickens cervical mucus.’ Doesn’t that sound fun?

When did all of these methods appear? Now there is a ring you can stick up your lady bits and it stays there, chilling and killing sperm.
At school I was only shown the vagina anchor (IUD), the penis sheath (Condom) and the morning after pill.

All of which didn’t appeal to me. I’m far too forgetful for any sort of pill you have to take regularly, and I have a general rule that nothing should be shoved up your va-jay-jay. Especially anything that resembles a corkscrew.

So, I got the implant when I was 18. I still don’t 100% understand what it is that is inside me, but I have the image of one of those electronic air fresheners. But instead of spraying freshener, it sprays hormones in me every morning. Then the hormones float around my body until they find sperm to destroy.

The side effects haven’t been too bad, but they haven’t been non-existent. These are the few that I get:

• Irregular Periods – I did have these anyway, but it has made them worse. I often go without bleeding for a few months, and then spend a whole month on. This side effect is not for the weak.

• Weight gain – Or am I just fat and making excuses?

• Swelling when I’m ‘on.’ – This is a pain in the arse. My jeans go up 2 sizes, which means every month I end up crying because I’m fat.

• Mood Swings – I often get happy but snappy. My boyfriend just throws chocolate at me when I’m like this, so it’s all good.

After being on the implant (Nexplanon) for three years, I decided that I would get it replaced when it expired. But, to do so, I had to get an appointment.

I moved Doctors when I came to university. I used to live in a tiny village, the nearest Doctors was in a small town (population 4000) so getting an appointment was not difficult. The population of where I live now is 71, 722.

Getting a Doctor’s appointment was next to impossible, I rang them at 8am every day for a week before getting one in three weeks’ time.

I also had to go and pick up the implant myself. I told myself before collecting it I wouldn’t look at it. Alas, curiosity got the best of me and within 30 seconds I had opened it. Have you ever seen an implant gun? The needle is a thing of nightmares. I wish I had never looked. Curiosity brutally murdered the cat, and I made the same mistake.

The day came of the appointment (at 8am, the sadistic buggers.) I was still sleepy when I arrived, and I couldn’t even find the surgery room.

Eventually the Doctor came and found me, wandering around like a little lost puppy.
He described what he was going to do (basically cut a hole into my arm and pull the old one out before shooting the new one in.) I tried not to listen for the sake of my sanity.

I lay down on the chair-bed-thing and he dug in. I went in knowing I was going to write this article, and I was going to take pictures. But when it came to it, I couldn’t even look. I pretend to be braver than I am, that’s just a fact about me as a person.

He was trying to talk to me casually and he slit my arm open and stuck tweezers in me. I guess he was trying to distract me, but asking me ‘whether it’s going to snow Christmas day?’ doesn’t make me forget that you are literally inserting a machine into my arm. Nice try, Doc, but I know what you’re doing.

Overall, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I think the idea of getting it put in was a lot worse than the practice.

In conclusion, I wish I was gay.

Side note: Sorry to all those that follow The Jist. This will be my next article up, but with added content! (Basically I’ve done some doodles and diagrams, so that you can all see why I failed GCSE art.)

Christmas Ad awards and Sausage Massacres

It’s over.

The Veganism that almost destroyed me is over, I’m back to my meat devouring self and I have never been so relieved.

I actually have energy now. Well, as much energy as I had before the Vegan thing, which wasn’t much.

My first meal back was meant to be a feast. I bought everything on the McDonald’s menu, but felt sick after eating a single cheeseburger.

I am not usually a sharer of food, but I gave my friends the rest. Now I fear that they will want to share all my food, and I would like to take this moment to clarify:

It’s never going to happen.

Now that I’ve done that, I can move along and talk about what I’ve done this week…

Which is nothing interesting. Bloggers always seem to have money to go and do interesting things every week.

I wish I could go to Borneo and help Organgutans, or skydive in America. Alas, my budget only allowed me to get drunk one night and eat 3 cans of beans and sausage. (I think most people regret more than that when they get drunk, but it adds to how uninteresting I am.)

Aside from the sausage massacre, I’ve either been at work or in uni every day this week. I practically live at uni, in fact I have even started bringing a blanket. It helps me concentrate for some weird reason.

I am absolutely loving how festive everything is though, but like the rest of the nation, I am very disapointed in John Lewis’ Christmas Advert. I don’t care how much of a ‘treasure’ Elton John is, he is nothing compared to that animated bear and rabbit a few years ago.

So far, Aldi and Iceland are winning all the christmas awards from me. I mean, Iceland’s is so informative, well written and even cute.

And Aldi’s is about a carrot who stole the coca-cola truck and has a parsnip for a nemisis.

I feel like they’re opposite ends of the spectrum, but who doesn’t love a good carrot at Christmas?

Veganism turned me into a vampire

Have you ever had a bad idea?

Have your friends ever told you that your bad idea is, in fact, a good idea?

And have you proceeded to go ahead with the good-bad idea?

Then you know exactly how I feel this week.

Let me take you back two weeks. Me and Nat were sat in Wagamama’s, (The day of the cider incident,) and we were talking about the blog we’re working on for uni. (I will link it at the bottom. Self promotion ftw.)

I had no ideas apart from Disneyland reviews, and was facing a pretty bad writers block. Nat was saying that another member of our group wanted to do a Buzzfeed style article, like ‘I tried ….. for a week.’ She then suggested going raw vegan.

Now, even as stupid and stubborn as I am, I knew I could not go raw vegan. But, a few days later, I suggested veganism to the class.

Basically the response I got was: ‘Fuck no.’ from everyone except Nat, so on Tuesday we began our Vegan diets.

It was a huge mistake. I was excited and optimistic at first, but as soon as my body lost all the nutrients it had stored, I began to suffer. I am 4 days in and can see no hope or sign of happiness in this lifestyle.

Don’t get me wrong, I know I was an idiot for going straight from a meat-loving, coffee addicted devourer of cheese, to eating nothing but vegetables. But I’m an ‘all or nothing’ type of person, and I wouldn’t have stuck to it if I’d stopped eating one thing at a time.

The weird thing is, on my 4th day, the thought of beef makes me feel sick. I think I’ll have to wean myself back onto meat, which is a literal nightmare for me. Though for some strange reason, I do fancy venison. Maybe that’s because I want to get straight to blood? Has Veganisn turned me into a vampire? Who knows?

The other interesting thing is, when I’ve told people about this experiment, the meat eaters are the ones who have been most supportive.

Whether it’s because vegetarians think they could give dairy up easily, or that I’m dramatic because I eat meat, who knows?

I just think carnivors have more sympathy. They know how much they love meat (and, in this case, dairy) and they aknowledge that this shit it hard.

But, by far, the worst response I’ve had from this entire thing was by a vegan. Which baffles me.

One of my classmates, lets call him Doris, saw me with my packet of vegan cookies and Mylk. (God knows what was in that abomination. Anything that advertises itself as ‘grassy’ should not be eaten. By anyone or anything. Even a cow would hate it.)

Doris immediately assumed I was going to diss his lifestyle, which I wasn’t. Not until he said it, and my petty, nutrition deprived brain went: ‘Okay, I will.’

I started out this experiment to find out the impact on me and my health. I never started it because I knew I would hate it and could talk about it online. Even if that’s what I’ve ended up doing.

Anyway, Doris continued to say:

‘You can’t only eat vegan cookies and replacements for milk and call yourself a vegan. That’s not vegan.’

Normally, I’m not a confrontational type of person. I will just agree with people to keep the peace. But I was ready to sharpen my spear and go into full on war with Doris.

I replied with:

‘I’m not eating meat. I’m not eating dairy/eggs. I am, by defintion, a vegan.’

To which he shook his head at me, patronisingly.

Are vegans not allowed snacks?

I would understand if he was annoyed by the fact that I’m not doing it for animals, since he preaches his beleifs at everyone, despite never even visiting a farm.

But being annoyed because I was eating cookies??

I’m aware I sound bitchy right now, but this is the first time in adulthood that I’ve treated someone with respect and in return they knocked me down. And as a general human, that is not an okay thing to do.

Why can’t people just be nice to eachother, despite their beliefs?

I think my body has mostly suffered because I not only gave up meat and dairy, but also caffiene and sugar. I hate Coffee with soy/almond milk, and I was having 3+ cups a day before. I’m going through withdrawls of everything, so I recognise that I’m probably suffering more than an average vegan does.

You can read about what I’ve eaten, and how my body and brain has hated me for it, on my university blog: (The Jist.)

The post won’t be up until I’ve finished the week (Tuesday) so you may want to give it a follow. Please. It would be nice.