I do, or do I?

It often scares me when I hear the question: ‘So when are you and your boyfriend getting married?’ I clam up in a state of shock and point out that I’m only 22. (Just)

Except, 22 isn’t really young at all is it?

I finished school five years ago and since then loads of people have gotten married/made babies, but not me. Nope, it’s too much to think about. I wasn’t even one of those girls who dreamed of a fairytale wedding; instead I thought about my dream career and spending my well-earned money on clothes and holidays, whilst living in my lovely apartment flat overlooking Central Park. A girl can dream, after all!

My friends find it hilarious picturing me living in a house, on my own, with a billion cats. Although this is an exciting thought, I really hope I’m not living in a house that stinks of cat wee. I’m not a commitment phobic and in fact, I’ve been with my boyfriend for three and a half years.

It just doesn’t seem right to spend thousands of pounds on a massive party, a ring and a bit of paper to legally say you are stuck with this person forever... Forever turns into five years and BOOM the divorce costs more than your wedding. Luckily, he thinks the same or else that could be an interesting conversation when he gets down on one knee.

Now, it’s not that I’m against marriage, because there are some people who genuinely believe it’s for them and before you wonder if my parents are still together, then yes they are. 26 long blissfully happily married years. [Longer than a life sentence at prison I hear you cry]

Maybe one day I will change my mind, but right now, I’m happy to get on with my life without ducking the question of marriage and people thinking my boyfriend and I aren’t happy because we’re not engaged.

Albeit, give me somebody else’s wedding and I will be the first one getting ridiculously merry on the free wine and cracking out some amazing routines on the dance floor - much to the embarrassment of my boyfriend.

Don't even get me started on the kids question...

Kerry Katona's my best friend

I'm the first to admit I love the celebrity culture in this country. L-Lo's on another drug rampage and causing havoc in the Hollywood Hills, yes; Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston are back together... No? Oh, ok. I can wish.

I love the riff-raff of Kerry Katona’s latest argument with Brian McFadden, and even the boozy benders of JLS. There’s just something about those in the spotlight that make me intrigued and want to find out more.

America and the UK are both obsessed with reality shows from Big Brother and I’m A Celeb and why not? They rake in the viewers, give ‘normal’ people the opportunity to be silly on TV as well as their 15-minutes of fame after the show has finished. Perfect! Mr nobody’s celebrity status soars, all thanks to us, the public. What’s in it for us?

Growing up, I was a typical teenager – I was obsessed with Westlife; bought Smash Hits and Top of the Pops magazines (may they both RIP) and wanted to know the latest gossip. It was, and still is, an escapism from the dull reality of our lives. However, I love my life, but there’s always an intrigued side of me that wants to know about ‘how the other half live’ and I want to share their journey from rags to glam. Lindsay Lohan, for instance, is a figure I loved back when she was relatively normal and playing the twins in The Parent Trap then she gradually went downhill. Is the dark side of fame really that bad?

As the audience, we’re a part of their celebrity-isms, whether it’s following them on Twitter, watching them mess up in the media and even see photos of their sordid mishaps they didn’t want us to see.

Next time you moan to your friends/colleagues about how much you despise Katie Price, just remember – you love to hate her, but you still want to know what she’s up to. Let’s face it, we love to know about the highs and lows of fame, and although we don’t want to live it ourselves, it’s still fun to watch.

Double Act

Good taste or stupid waste?


Have you ever been in that awkward, yet ground-swallowing moment when you see someone wearing the same outfit as you? Not only are you thinking ‘shit’, but you’re also hoping they’ll piss off before anyone else notices.

This unfortunate, yet ironic, event happened at the weekend.


I was proud of my new jumpsuit, not just happy because I’d bought something new, but proud a jumpsuit suited ME. Me being the shape of a pear/banana who can never pull of any kind of fashion, unless it was sooo last year’s fashion.

Well, it happened, THE moment happened. There I was in the changing rooms trying on a jumpsuit, knowing full well I was going to resemble a frog, but I HAD to try it. I just had to know I was going to look ridiculous so I could put it back, and know for my own piece of mind I look ridiculous, but no, it looked somewhat okay.
Without wanting to get ahead of myself I took a picture of it and sent it to my friend who I knew would give me an honest opinion. Straightaway she replied, ‘GET IT! I LOVE IT!’ Brilliant. One down, two to go.

BUT, what if my boyfriend thinks I’m wearing a baby-grow. We’d seen some last week in a shop and laughed ridiculously at them and now here I was buying a similar thing. Men just don’t appreciate any kind of fashion, nor do they care.

I bought it. I had to, it’s not very often I can pull of something so beautiful. I kept the receipt just incase my mum thought it looked stupid. In hope, though, I wanted my mother to give me the same reaction as my friend and patiently waited until she returned home to witness the new attire.

“Mum, I bought this today, what d’ya think?” (A heart-rendering five seconds later...)

“Ooh, that’s nice. Turnaround, let me see.” ... YES. SHE LIKED IT!

Now it was boyfriend’s opportunity to witness the moment. I showed him the jumpsuit before I tried it on just to see his face. It was as I imagined. A kind of ‘are-you-kidding-me-that-looks-vomtastic’ face. Nope, I bloody wasn’t kidding and I was going to prove him wrong. He liked it, or so he says and gave the ultimate: “Yeah, looks better on than off.” Cheers, mate.

However, the pinnacle moment came. Sod mother or boyfriend, this was THE moment: Jumpsuit was making its first public outing.

I got a few odd looks; caught my reflection and saw my bum wobble more than ever, but I liked it. I felt like I was in fashion, for once. Now, don’t get me wrong I’m hardly a fashion fail, I just prefer to feel comfy in standard clobber. I don’t want to feel like one of those girls I laugh at who wear fashion merely because it’s in fashion, not because it suits them.

But, I had three nods; surely this was going to be okay.

I was wearing the jumpsuit at a festival so was expecting some mud and some drink thrown at it, but no, I was not expecting some other girl to be wearing MY jumpsuit. But then I got a tap on the shoulder and a few girls laughing at me. Their friend was wearing THE jumpsuit and they found it hil-arious. Pah. You could tell by the look on her face she wasn’t amused, and she threw the same awkward facial expression as me.

“Oh, yeah would you look at that!” I said, trying to break the awkward moment.
“Errr, yeah, same jumpsuit,” she said. Oh.

Her friends continued to laugh, my boyfriend shuffled off. Bastard. Then they did the unthinkable, they whipped out their cameras and asked for a picture. Fan-bloody-tastic.

My smile was a half awkward, half of a ‘I’m-forcing-this-smile-out-now-hurry-up.’
Then I ran/shuffled away hoping to never see these people again.
Some people may choose a moment like this as a compliment. I, however, didn’t and won’t in the future either.

I can only imagine that photo is on Facebook somewhere with lots of people loling at how ridiculous my face looks in such an awkward moment.

Next time, I'm going designer.