Apologies for the cliché, but I really do like my men how I like my coffee. My favourite? Americano with just a dash of milk. Solely black coffee is just as nice but I rarely drink milk alone.
I dated an American guy for 12 hours over summer. It was a rare sunny day, we went for cocktails on the docks and sat near the water smoking Malboro Lights. It was probably the best date I’ve ever been on but I was torn between whether to kiss or not to kiss. He was the first guy I genuinely liked in over a year but it was more than just an attraction. He interested me, something that few men ever do. I decided not to kiss, I preferred to stay in touch as friends rather than blur the lines and never speak again. I also got so drunk and high that I couldn’t keep my chin off my chest and vomited in Sound Bar’s newly refurbished toilets. Lovely tiles.
As I walked away from his Travelodge, my invisible sock slipped of my heel. Strangely enough for the first time that day. It usually happens at least ten times – a part of my soul dies forever with each slip, buried in a deep pit of cringe at having to get my revolting feet out on Taggart Avenue. It felt very symbolic – I haven’t seen him since.
Flapjacks are grainy and beige. I hate beige but I bloody love flapjacks. The crème de le crème of flapjacks can actually be found in Home & Bargain. 29 pence each and they come in 4 different flavours: plain for the basics, yoghurt covered for the sweet, cherry for the promiscuous and chocolate for the tough. I love them. Love them. Tasty, nutritious treats that encourage healthy bowel movements. What’s not to love?
My life was changed by Hot Sauce. These days, I don’t just have hot sauce in my bag, swag, I have it in my noodles, as a dip with crisps and poured over a roast. I adore the feeling of fire in my mouth, like Listerine it burns you just to the right degree. Aldi does a kickin’ Hot Pepper Sauce but I recommend you avoid it at Rack & Dollar. In the 3 months I worked there I often to forgot to refrigerate it and left the bottles overnight in the cutlery cupboard that stinks of actual shit due to the pipes from the toilet running through them. I mean truly stinks, I can still smell it now and I got all my coats dry-cleaned when I quit. Hot Sauce brought the light back into my life that I didn’t even know had gone out. Thanks Bey, I dream of the day we share a bottle poured over a Red-Lobster after a purely platonic chat, not a good fuck. I love you and all but I just don’t think I’m ready for your jelly.
I despise Red Onion a.k.a Satan’s toe-nail clippings. At my college graduation, I was approached by three scally lads in baa bar’s toilets. They were trying to get into my friends and I guess they thought that by peer-pressuring me into joining them for a line I would help them on that never-happening quest. Not wanting my head flushed down the toilet, I participated without asking questions. Who knows what it was but it certainly blinded my vision so much that I didn’t notice the red onion intruding on my Krunchy Fried Chicken burger. I spent the taxi home holding my gal-pal Lorna’s hand and spitting out the car window – and I never spit.
Pumpkin Spice Lattes, perfect for that basic white, chubby girl who longs for a Queen Bee Title. The girl who tells you what you should think of her rather than let you decide for yourself. The girl who does not use her influence for good. The girl who’s at that awkward stage of trying so hard to be someone they are clearly not rather than embrace who they truly are. Self-absorbed to the core. Drama Queen. If asked to described themselves in one word – quirky. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being chubby, own it. Sooner or later the mask will slip and its best to take it off now before you completely lose what’s underneath.
I’ve never been able to gain weight in my life. There was period before I moved to Spain when my face got round but after 9 months of stress-induced diarrhoea brought on by Fuck-boy #1, I was skinnier than I’d ever been before. Unhealthily skinny. So much so that when I was flown home for Easter, shivering cold and unable to pick up my 3-year-old niece due to the severe pain in the joints in my arms and shoulders, my mother forced me to break my vegetarian lifestyle with a bacon butty.
I ate it behind the couch, sat with my back pressed against the radiator but still my front shivered. I would love to have a bit of chub to keep me warm at winter but it doesn’t seem to be happening anytime soon so I have just blown £300 on warm bedding and thick pyjamas in the Black Friday sales. I paid for it by credit card of course, that’s something for 2017 to deal with it. May it be a better year than 2016.
Kylie Jenner was right, 2016 was the year of realising things! Four for you Kylie Jenner! You go Kylie Jenner! And none for Donald Trump.
My Predictions for 2017? Rob Kardashian will get thin again, Lindsay Lohan will get an Oscar and Chris Brown will win a Nobel Peace Prize. If 2016 taught me anything, it’s that anything is possible.