Girl Pain

After waking up super late, with hair that looked like I'd done ten rounds with a bush this morning, I was running behind. Well behind. As way of a change. As such, I was forced to apply my make up on a packed London Victoria bound train. Not OK.

I looked up, whilst using my iPhone camera as a mirror (all of the class, especially when your camera takes a photo of you by accident, see above) to see a bloke staring at me. 

It wasn't through lust (clearly - 8am Jo aint a sight to behold), it was through pure and utter bewilderment....Bewilderment, that on a moving train, I was painting my face in with some precision using a non reflective surface as a mirror. He looked on in agony as my mascara wand reached my eyeball. The train halted and the wand went into my eye. Like a true pro, out came the face wipes, away went the tear and on I carried. By this stage my man looked like he wanted to weep.

It was in that moment that it dawned on me, that there are many painful things in life that only females will understand.

Boys. Read. Take Note.

The things we go through. 

Here's some of them. (credits to our Shezza Webb for her help on this one today)

The Mascara Wand In Eye

The reason for this post. No sting quite like the entry of pure black liqud into your pupil...on the end of a sharp bristled stick. Once the pain passes, along comes the 3 hour fear that you'll contract some sort of eye infection and loose your eye. Because you're a woman, so as such are completely irrational. 

Nail Varnish Remover In A Cut

Oh hey pure acid in my blood stream....how do?! Que... jumping around your room like a complete fruit cake whilst still managing to not smudge or knock your recently applied Barry M.

 Girl...you got this.

Tweezing

Ohhhhh. The one by one removal of every hair in your face. One at a painful time. Whilst you hang your head under a bright lamp to make sure you don't miss any strays. All because it's the week before payday and you can't afford a thread. Pain.

Threading

The joys of having a small grandma lean over your head with cotton in her mouth whilst she slices your face apart. Like the eyebrows aren't bad enough...roll on my girl getting one knee on the arm of your chair and starting on your top lip. TOE. CURL.

Deodorant

Deodorant on a freshly shaved armpit. 

Holy. Mary. Mother. Of. God.

Catching Your Leg On A Razor

Oh yes. The removal of one's own skin on a Lady Bic. Now that's bad. Putting cream on your leg afterwards. I said GOD DAMN!

Getting Your Hair Caught In A Zip

No lads, clean your minds. Your head hair getting caught in your coat zip. Tears on a train mate. Tears. On. A. Train.

When A Bloke Bites Your Lip And Thinks It's Sexy

To a degree, we can all get involved and enjoy the odd nibble. When matey starts chomping on that thing like it's a corn on a cob and you're just sitting there thinking...I gotta put lip coat on that shit tomorrow and man is that going to sting!

Underwire Appearing From Nowhere

Oh hey old bra.

 Oh hey underwire popping out the side and straight into your breast. 

Oh hey paranoia that you might end up without a boob by the end of the day.

Chaffing

Come on we've all had it. Especially the larger thighed amongst us. You wear an older pair of tights, the elastic isn't what it was and low and behold your dear old legs rub together like a pair of bastards. Ever so red. Ever, ever so sore.

Roll on the ritual humiliation of having to Sudocream them bad boys like you've got nappy rash!

Hairbands

When you leave a hairband on over night. And you wake up with a trench in your arm. And a female irrational fear that you might loose your hand. Yeah. That. 

Touching Of A Tender Boob 

That sensitive time of the month...and someone goes for a grab of the boob. And as much as you don't want to ruin the mood, you want to suckerpunch them in the head. Then fall into a heap on the floor.

Mother Nature

That time of the month in general. When you are a rank, sweaty, bloated mess with a lower belly that feels like it's having a knife run across it. LUSSSSHHH. 

& last but by no means least.

Our favorite..

Waxing

As if the ripping of one's hair and skin onto strips of paper isn't agony enough, nobody quite prepares you for the hot shower afterwards, when you feel like you're nether regions are going to explode. But above all that is the agony of having to have a conversation with the woman who is in between your legs with a lollystick and a hot pot of wax.

'All the way back dear?'

'Please...and why not just strip off the remainder of my pride whilst you're there babe'

Cheers

LL x

The Subtext of That Text

Yes. I sat at home on Sunday afternoon, alone, and in a hoodie. I ate burritos, with my hair piled up on my head and I watched Sex and The City: The Movie. Contentment doesn't even cover it.

I watched for 90 minutes of cliches and really dramatic break ups whilst secretly praying that work will one day relocate me to New York. What can I say? Writing this blog looking out over Central Park will top Croydon Tramlink any day of the week. (I'm joking flatmate...our home is lush!)

I forgot about the one scene in the film that rings truer with me than any of the rest of them (mainly because they all involve million dollar apartments & $400 shoes). Carrie and Louise from St Louis sit in a bar, Louise receives a 'booty text', Carrie goes into real detail about understanding the 'subtext of that text' and how apparently a man wanting to meet for drinks after 11pm, obviously means he actually wants to get his leg over, and not meet the girl in question for a quiet cocktail.

Well you know, she's a writer, so she knows this shiz. Ahem. 

Watching this scene from SATC made me chuckle. The amount of conversations I've had of late with girls at work where minutes and minutes (read hours and hours) can be spent talking about the possible meanings behind, what is probably, a half arsed one liner from guys they are dating. Women are over-thinkers to the very end and dissecting text messages is one of our biggest flaws.

I decided it was time to tackle this head on and stop us all from trying too hard to get to the bottom of what the 'subtext of that text' really is. To do this, I've chosen some prime 'bloke' texts and some classics from the last few months of chatting over the photocopier to use as an example. I hope this comes in useful and helps you to chill the hell out.

**

What he text: 'Let me know when you get home x' (after a date)

What a girl reads it as: He really cares about my safety and obviously had such a good time that he couldn't wait until tomorrow to text me. Maybe we'll get married. Although, hang on. There's no question mark. Does that mean I have to reply? Will I hear from him again? AH MY HEAD HAS EXPLODED.

What he meant: Get home safe, I was brought up well so have manners enough to check. 

**

What he text: 'It would be good to catch up'

What a girl reads it as: AAAAAAAH he's asking me out on a date. What am I going to wear? Oh I wonder where we'll go. 

What he meant: I might give you a ring over the weekend.

**

What he text: 'how's it all going?' - after several months of no communication.

What a girl reads it as: Oh wow, he's still thinking about me. Bet he's regretting never calling me now.

What he meant: You just changed your profile picture on Facebook, you're looking pretty fit so I thought I'd chance my luck with this non commital attempt at getting in touch. 

**

What he text: 'what are you up to this weekend?x'

What a girl reads: AAAAAAAH he's asking me out on a date. What am I going to wear? Oh I wonder where we'll go. (you'll notice this pattern)

What he meant: I'm making polite midweek conversation. It's Tuesday. I literally have no idea what the weekend holds and refuse to make plans until I've spoken to the boys.

**

What he text: 'Was really good to see you'

What a girl reads: Well, are you going to see me again, are we doing this another time? AAAH

What he meant: It was genuinely good to see you but now I'm going to sleep/play xbox/ the gym/ can't be handling any more conversation for this evening. 

**

What he text: 'What do you fancy doing this evening?'

What a girl reads: Must instantly google Time Out's top ten places to eat in the capital and pre book a table at a good bar so he thinks I'm edgy and cool .

What he meant: Please offer up a pizza and DVD night. I went out on the lash yesterday and attempting to plan more than my journey home is painful. 

**

What he text: ' ;)' normally following a near the mark comment about your underwear

What a girl reads: Oh he is a cheeky chappy, but I'll give him a slap if he goes that far again. 

What he meant: No but seriously, what underwear do you have on?

**

What he text: 'Fancy a quick drink after work?'

What a girl reads: AAAAAAAH he's asking me out on a date. What am I going to wear? Oh I wonder where we'll go. (see where we are going with this)

What he meant: I'm on a stag do this weekend, but don't want you to go all GirlNuts on me so a cheeky mid week drink will keep things sweet.

**

What he text: 'Looking forward to it x'

What a girl reads: He's the one.There's a kiss. He's the one.

What he meant: Friday night will be a laugh, quite looking forward to another evening in your company, the kiss is clear progress from my side. However, we don't really need to text again before then.

**

What he text:  'I'll let you know when I'm about' 

What a girl reads: I must stare at my phone for the next fortnight and not make many plans in case of one of those impromptu mid week date offers!

What he meant: It's unlikely you'll hear from me again. 

**

What he text : 'You about?' Sent Friday 23.06. Typically from a flakey bloke.

What a girl reads: Should I stop everything I'm doing and get on the tube to wherever he is? It's 11pm. It's Friday. We could still have a nice evening together.

What he meant: I'm pissed and have needs. Get me.

**

What he text: 'Ha.' Followed on from some mediocre banter on your part.

What a girl reads: I mean, this is the seventh time I've text him in a fortnight, responses have been thin on the ground but I've obviously hit the nail on the head with that last bit of banter. Winner. Still hope yet.

What he meant: Stop texting me. Now.

**

LLx

The Girl's Guide To The World Cup

I was born the second daughter to a football nut father. The second of two girls. The second non boy to not take to Sunday 5-a-sides and to not bore to death with the story about the time he nearly trialled at Charlton. 

The lack of male offspring caused our dear old pops to teach my sister & I to have an appreciation for the beautiful game. Alongside our Take That & Spice Girls posters sat the Man United team photo, fixture lists & pull out A3's of Gary Pallister. Yep. I was totally obsessed with Mr P. Still am truth be known.

I owned the infamous black & yellow away kit and wore the collar up like I was Cantona. My sister to this day still reads the paper back to front. We still enjoy a Jipp Japp Stam chant & hold the Sherringham years fond in our hearts. 

Over time we may not have always been interested in the match on the TV, or even United's current league position, but we've learnt the rules. The rules one must abide by in the presence of a football watching man.

With a month of late nights, tears, screams and rage ahead of us, I thought it was about time my sister & I, with the help of a couple of male mates, imparted some of our wisdom. A little list for the unassuming females of the world who have significant others to deal with during this very special time. 

So here it is....

The Girl's Guide To The World Cup.

- Don't make plans. Any plans. Don't assume that if he's booked time off work it will be to spend time with you. Wrong. Also don't think that he'll only be interested in watching the England matches so you'll only loose him for 3 nights of the tournament. Again, wrong. All matches. Everyday.

- When they don't want to partake in the plans you have already made, don't ask them what's more important 'Football or Me?'.  This month, nobody wants the real answer to that question. 

- Every match is vital. And not just the match. The lead up show is just as crucial and will require just as much silence and lack of distraction. He'll use this time to get half cut on his World Cup beers.

- Never under any circumstances speak when Ian Wright is speaking. Join in abusing Adrian Chiles. 

- Don't think it's OK to judge a team based purely on attractiveness of players. Yes, the Italian side are a pretty bunch but come Saturday night your head needs to switch from "shag" to "kill" mode almost instantly.

- Feign slight interest. And don't just ask dumb arse questions like,"Where's Beckham?". It's painful for everyone....he's not bringing up the time your family dog died is he? No. So don't mention Sir Becks. Not now, not ever.

- Sit back and relish in watching him fill in his Panini sticker book. Got, got, need. 

- Don't mock the roller coaster relationship he will have with Roy Hodgson. He will go from despising him, to worshiping the ground he walks on, to wanting to put his own dad up for adoption and take Roy on instead. Oh and before you ask, Roy Hodgson's the manager. 

- Don't you ever DARE say "It's only a game". 

- Don't pass comment on, what may seem over exaggerated, reactions to a "beautiful pass" or 'wonder goal' or a nut holding tackle. They might be sitting on a sofa in Streatham, but in their heads they are in Rio. Appease them.

- Start drinking beer. Trust me. It will help.

- Begin to understand the importance of replays. Yes this might be the 8th time he's seen this corner be taken,  but seeing it in slow motion, and from that angle will make everything So. Much. Better. 

- Take note of the fact that this is the only occasion he'll be able to multi task. He'll be able to watch the match, join in a twitter debate and have cheeky bet all in unison. Mind. Blown.

- Don't pass judgement when England are 4-0 down with 12 minutes to go and he utters the infamous man line 'Well, we never play well for 90 minutes, I fancy we'll still do them'.

- Don't think that because you got Cameroon in the sweepstake at work, they actually stand a chance. If you didn't pull Brazil, Argentina, Germany or Spain, kiss your quid goodbye. And don't constantly ask how Cameroon are doing. 

- Try & avoiding asking what the offside rule is during the match - here's a diagram I've drawn for you. Learn it. 

- At last but not least - here's this little classic. Today I asked some old mates Dean & Steven what they would most like to add to the list. This was my favourite. By far. 

'Don't attempt to engage us in sexual activity whilst a game is on, when Chile are playing Holland I am much more interested in the rampaging full backs than I am in a half hearted attempt at a blowjob'.

Classic boys. 

Thank god it's only once every four years!

LL x

The Best of Friends

picture courtesy of Google Image

There's five of us girls. There's been five of us for nearly eight years. We each play a very specific role in our amazing little gang that was born out of piss taking and an ability to pack a way a sizeable amount of wine.

Kate - Sarah - Hannah -  Me - Laura

Then 18 months ago one of us jumped ship. The sarcastic, level headed and arguably biggest lush of the pack, packed up and buggered off. Her life in a backpack, off she headed on a trip of a lifetime.


'It's only a year, it will fly by' we all told ourselves whilst choking back tears and gin in a bar in November 2012. Nothing will change, and we'll keep her up to date on EVERYTHING we're doing.


Eight new jobs, a new flat, some failed relationships and several changes in hairstyle later, our fifth arm landed back on Friday. It would be fair to say, that in parts, we were all apprehensive.

What if things had changed too much? What if we didn't have as much in common anymore? What if she talks in a dodgy accent now? OH GOD - she's not on the group What'sApp!


Walking up the stairs in Kate's flat, that Hannah had yet to visit, sporting a hair do that Hannah was yet to see, coming from my new job that Hannah was yet to hear about, I had butterflies equivalent to those on a first date.


I bowled into the front room, screeching her surname and in a bleary eyed hug, the last 18 months disappeared.

Tens of bottles of wine, dozens of cuddles and a pizza later, we sat at the window at 6am watching the sun come up. A double vision stare across the strewn bodies on the floor and drink debris, it struck me. She could have been gone 18 years, and yes things change, but our little gang hasn't.


Us five are the best of friends. And you know that people are your best mates when;


- Every time they'll order two pizzas, one with and one without mushrooms. They know you have a thing about mushrooms but can never remember if it's that you love them or loathe them. So they'll spend an extra twelve quid just in case.


- You meet up with them just because. Not because it's payday, not because it's a birthday, but just because. You no doubt saw them 48 hours previously, but you'll spend the entire evening gas bagging.


- They are your biggest fans and biggest critics. They will speak you up and boast about how epic you are to colleagues and friends of friends. However, the minute you drop the ball and behave like a fool, they will sit you down and rip an almighty strip off of you. They'll get up, buy you a glass of wine, and say no more about it.


- One of you calls the other sobbing. They arrive, often from nowhere, in the pub nearest work or in a cab outside your flat. They sit. They listen. They get you pissed.


- They rally round when shit gets serious. Albeit just for an hour, the sarcastic quips and one line put downs stop. They give epic advice and all offer to take a day off work to help you when you really need it. You decline the offer. Because you obviously know they've got a deadline.


- They've all seen you near enough fully naked.


- You've all held each others hair when being sick. All done the water run when crying. All left a night much earlier than you ever wanted and before you swapped numbers with the guy you're pretty sure you were going to marry, because one of the others is being a liability.


- One of you starts the night beginning to tell a story about something that happened at work. By 10pm, the story still isn't finished because you spend your entire lives going off on a tangent.


- You have other mates that you love spending time with. But none of them really ever come up to par. When new friends come into your life, you feel like they need to meet the little gang to gain a seal of approval. It's rare that they get it.


- You are incredibly rude to each other. Near enough all of the time. Because it's funny.


- You know absolutely everything about the others. From family health history to toilet habits. And every embarrassing sexual encounter in between.


- You sit in silence for hours on holiday. You communicate purely in grunts. One grunt ' Go to the bar'. Two grunts 'I'm going for a nap'.  Three grunts 'Are we staying here for dinner tonight, or going out?'


- Money is always owed left right and centre. Tickets, cabs, rounds.  It gets to the stage that anything under £30 no longer counts.


- You still never know what to buy them for Christmas.


- You can spot within 30 seconds when they are wearing something new. You get a bit put out that they forgot to mention it. You know you'll end up borrowing it.


- On occasion they drive you completely nuts. But you wouldn't change them for the world. And yes, you can spend days, months, years apart. But eventually, you'll all be back, sitting round a table, drinking and eating and still taking the piss about what actually happened on that night out in Kingston, that you vowed never to speak of again! 


LL x