How many times have you looked in the mirror and actually liked what you saw in the reflection staring back at you? How many times have you told yourself that you'll only be pretty if you lost a certain amount of pounds, grew your hair a bit longer or fixed the crook in your nose that no one else seems to notice but you?

I know I can't speak for everyone, but I'm assuming that everyone reading this has done that at least once or sometimes even as often as every single day.

My all time favourite episode of My Mad Fat Diary is this one (from about 24mins - 27mins). It shows Kester (Rae's therapist) teaching her to love herself, by imagining her calling a 10 year old version of herself 'Fat' and 'Ugly' - words which she uses to describe herself every day. This scene has really resonated with me ever since I watched it, and I really do think that it puts things into perspective. When you're destroying your self esteem, you're also destroying your younger self who endlessly believed in themselves and their potential. The thought of that really does break my heart.

At 10 years old, we were carefree and happy - but what changed? What made us feel inclined to hate at least one thing about ourselves? What made us feel that inevitable sadness when get when we stand in a changing room cubicle and nothing seems to look 'right'?

This definition of beauty has been adapted by society and a narrow mould has been created which is almost impossible to fit into. Apparently if we don't have a narrow waist and shapely legs then we're simply not good enough, and will never be described as 'beautiful'.

A couple of days ago, my friend (hiya Scarlz xxx) showed me an advert that she is using in her textiles project. It was from the 1950's and showed a woman moaning about how she was too skinny, and was looking at easy ways to put weight on. I couldn't help but think about how different things are nowadays, how most people are looking at 'Quick and Easy Ways' to lose weight, which sometimes even verge on being dangerous.

1950

2016

It's strange how things change.

I know women (and men) of all ages find it difficult to love themselves, yet I can't help but notice how much of a struggle it is for teenagers. At an age when you're the most vulnerable you will perhaps ever be, the way you look seems to be of every importance. Through platforms like Twitter and Instagram, we see these people with 'perfect' lives, 'perfect' figures and 'perfect' skin. Subconsciously, we are comparing ourselves to them, and looking at what they have that we don't.

When you really think about it, makeup/skincare or any other beauty brands almost promote self hate, just so they can make money out of it. You HAVE to wear mascara because it'll make your eyelashes look longer, you HAVE to buy our new nail varnish because it'll make you look nicer and you HAVE to buy this face wash because it'll make your spots go away overnight.

As a highly talented procrastinator, on a night where I was supposed to be getting through a mountain of work, I instead resulted to watching random videos. This resulted in me stumbling across a channel named 'Style like U' - 'a mother-daughter team leading a movement that empowers people to accept and express their true selves'. I was immediately drawn to a video featuring Melanie Gaydos called 'Beauty Is a State of Being'. (here) I had never actually heard of Melanie before, but I'm so glad I know about her now, as she has since become someone who I massively look up to and admire. The video is utterly beautiful in every sense of the word, and I really do encourage you all to watch it.

The song 'Toothbrush' by DNCE features the well renowned plus size model Ashley Graham. After doing some research through social media, I found a link to her TED talk ( here ) which is, without a doubt, one of the most amazing things I have ever watched. The way she words everything she speaks about is just fantastic, and it was so encouraging to see someone who was so comfortable with who they are - who has risen from the challenges she has faced, and defied expectations of shallow people who told her that she would 'never make it'.

If you take anything at all from this blog post, I'd love it to be this - You ARE enough, you ARE beautiful and the only thing that could ever be ugly about you is the way in which you belittle yourself. At the end of the day, 'Beauty is a state of being' and no matter how physically 'flawless' you are, if you're a horrible person then it accounts for absolutely nothing.

So eat that donut, wear that dress and when you walk past a mirror find something you love. Life is way too short to go about hating yourself.

Love,
Grace x

Doing things by myself is something that I find a tad boring. I enjoy chatting to people and having company therefore I much prefer to do things in big groups or at least with one other person.

Today was an exception.

When the opportunity came up for me to go and look round the BBC studios at Media City, I didn't care whether I'd have someone to go with me or not - I simply had to do it. (Although I did mess things up a bit when I got off the tram at the wrong stop).

After walking the distance equivalent of two tram stops, I rewarded myself with a coffee and a little read of my book.

Looking round the BBC was everything I had hoped for and more. It really was amazing to see how much effort goes into even the tiniest little thing - for example, a lovely news presenter (Jessica Creighton) had to record the same bulletin twice because the team decided that they didn't like a picture they used in one of their cutaway clips.

I don't quite know why, but I expected everyone there to be a little snobby and pretentious yet I couldn't have been more wrong. Every single person I came across was so lovely, and had the time to chat to me and explain exactly what it was that they were doing.

Teamwork played a massive role - without everyone cooperating and pulling their weight, the show simply couldn't go on (as cliché as that sounds, it's so unbelievably true)

I don't want to get all hideously cringey, but this visit honestly inspired me so much, and has given me such an incentive to work hard to achieve my dreams. I walked around Manchester for the rest of the day with a massive smile plastered to my face - definitely looking like the biggest weirdo around town.

Side note : I've got no pictures of inside the actual BBC Quay House building, which I would love to excuse by saying 'go and visit it for yourself, it's worth it' (which it certainly is !!)  ... But my real excuse is that I was so in awe and full of excitement that I didn't even think to take my phone out my bag. Sometimes it's about living in the moment, without feeling inclined to capture it.

Because I was already in Manchester, I thought I should take full advantage of it and have a little
wander around. I stopped off at Paperchase cafe - a recent find of mine (surely i'm not the only who has only just realised these exist?!) and had a bit of lunch sat all on my lonesome *violins begin to play*.

Sitting by myself and eating a cheese and tomato toastie (which I, as usual, picked the cheese off of) is something which up until this point I regarded as weird and sad, but it actually felt so nice to sit and gather my thoughts without having some nutcase sat opposite me blabbering on about God knows what (.... sorry Alice, but I really do not care about what pens you want to buy!)

I then made my way to Manchester Art Gallery to look at the Vogue 100 Exhibition - something that I have always been meaning to do, yet never got round to doing so. There's definitely a certain satisfaction to spontaneously doing something you've always wanted to.

The exhibition itself was incredible, and it was so interesting to see the evolution of the most iconic fashion magazine and also realise just how much major events can influence style. (SN : you weren't allowed to take pictures)

Alongside this celebration of Vogue, another exhibition was being shown downstairs. Titled 'Fashion & Freedom', it showed pieces from many different designers' which were inspired by women's liberation. One of my favourite pieces EVER was the beautiful yellow creation below. The yellow of the dress was inspired by the Canary Girls - the title given to women who were being exposed to the toxin TNT which resulted in their skin turning a yellowy colour. The piece also incorporates trousers which is used to signify the struggle women had to go through to be allowed to wear trousers to work.

(I just had to buy a postcard of it, I thought what it represented was truly beautiful)

All in all, I've had one of the best days I've had for a very very VERY long time and am currently sat at home feeling unusually satisfied and proud of myself.

♥Hope you're having a lovely week♥

Love,
Grace x

Thinking about the future is something that I find both incredibly exciting yet terrifying at the same time. From a young age we are told that everything we do dictates our future - whether that be the options we choose to study or the grades that we achieve at the end.

I know that "we're in control of our own destiny" and all that jazz, but something we have absolutely no control over is the hurdles that we are going to face in the next five or ten years, which I believe play a massive part in influencing the path we take and where we end up.

For as long as I can remember, my dream has been to live in London with a pet bulldog named Princess, yet what if in the next few years I develop an allergy to dogs or decide that living in miserable England just isn't doing it for me anymore?

Looking back just a year ago, so much has happened that I never ever EVER thought would. One particular thing that I never expected is that I would actually be considering going to University. For someone who has always said that they're "not clever enough to go to Uni", I have spent hours over the past month looking at University courses that interest me and checking out when the open days are.

Although I have come such a long way in believing in myself and my capabilities, that still doesn't mean that I find the process any less daunting - it all seems like a massive decision to be making at such a young age (especially for someone who takes at least double the 'normal' time to make tiny little decisions). Student loans, fees and accommodation all appear to be so complicated to me, and it makes me feel so incredibly lucky that I have parents who are willing to help me understand / sort out all of that.

Not going to University is something that is viewed as strange, and a rebellion against the social norm. "Which uni do you think you'll go to?", "What course are you going to study?" and "Have you been to any open days?" are an example of questions which I have been asked repeatedly over the past couple of months.

Don't get me wrong, I would absolutely LOVE to go to University, and I know that I would be so proud of myself for accomplishing that - but I don't think that it is something that should be necessarily expected and assumed amongst modern day society, particularly when there's so many other options you can consider.

A paid apprenticeship is something that I have been looking into, as this both eliminates the massive student debt you come out with at the end of University, and also gives you hands on experience of the real working world.

Decisions, decisions, decisions.

I know that in order to be successful, you need to work hard - and I'm definitely not one to be lazy when it comes to achieving my goals, yet sometimes it feels a shame that we're going to spend such a massive percentage of the last year of being with the people we've known for a huge chunk of our lives stressing about what's going to happen if we don't send in our personal statements on time, or if we don't score full marks on a practise paper.

There's so many stories I've heard about people getting so ill from the stress of all of this, and it does make me question whether it's worth it. Is it worth sleepless nights, random floods of tears or even stress hives?  (don't google them if you've got a weak stomach)..

At the end of the day, something I have to keep telling myself is that grades are not everything. I am completely aware how hypocritical that is, especially because I had an absolute meltdown over my predicted grades, but it actually breaks my heart that so many people think letters on a sheet of paper define who they are.

Life is definitely waaaaaay too short to worry about things like that.

Thank you so much for reading my little rant, it's just something that's been on my mind recently.

♥ See you next Wednesday ♥

Love,
Grace x

As a sucker for anything moderately historic, when my mum suggested a trip to Capesthorne Hall I jumped at the chance. Home to the Bromley Davenports since 1726, this was by far one of the most spectacular houses I have ever seen in my life.

♥my pretty sister♥

The gardens were beautiful too, with the 100 acres of land surrounding the house and the lake running in between, I felt like I was a combination of Daisy Buchanan and Elizabeth Bennet.


My complete and utter favourite thing about Capesthorne had to be the interior inside the hall. Usually when you visit places like this, it all looks a bit drab and dull, yet here they had painted the walls bright yellows and greens which looked absolutely amazing combined with the historic paintings, sculptures and antique furniture.

Although they said not to take pictures inside, I simply couldn't resist - as hopefully in the future I can use this as inspiration for my own place (it's good to dream big)!

What made the trip particularly special, was that my Nanna came with us. It is so easy to get swept up in the tasks of everyday life, and not stop and think about what is actually important. Family, to me, is something that I value very deeply - and I completely adore spending time with my grandparents.

Doing something a little bit different from what you would normally be doing on a Monday afternoon is so exciting, and it makes it just that little bit more fun doing it with your loved ones.

♥ nanna and mum ♥

Apart from stroking an infected cat and smacking myself in the face with a water bottle, which resulted in a massive lump forming on my lip - it was a lovely, lovely day and the perfect end to the summer holidays.

said cat ... I thought it's yellow eyes were its natural born beauty - oh, how wrong I was 

Thank you so much for reading, I'm sorry for the quality of the images - they're not as sharp as I would've liked them to be, and they certainly don't do the hall justice.

If anyone has any recommendations for cameras, then I'd love to know.

Love,
Grace

Hi Everyone!

So a few months ago I wrote this short story called 'E', and have now decided to publish it on my blog. 

I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think! 

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It was the 1920's and amongst the roaring of Jazz music and sparkly dresses, lived a being who had a secret. This particular person was dearly loved and worshipped by many. Whilst everybody claimed to know them, nobody knew a single thing about them - only the facts that they chose to publicize, which was anything but the truth.

E. Fitzgerald was both a male and a female - hence why they identified by an initial and not a real name. Her stage name was Evelyn Fitz - a famous Jazz singer, whose provocative stage presence stunned many, yet was hard to tear your eyes away from.

He was Edgar Fitzgerald and was a famous writer, whose tales of death and destruction occupied your thoughts for weeks on end. Combined, they were known as 'E' - two different personas, yet only one person. It was strange how nobody even assumed they were related, yet alone the same person.

It was hard juggling this kind of life, yet E wouldn't have it any other way. They believed firmly in the fact that you were put on this Earth to live a life, and it didn't matter how many lives you chose to live.

This idea came from the simple fact that E's mother was supposed to give birth to twins - a girl and a boy. However, upon a series of unfortunate events, E's 'brother' died in the womb. Struggling to accent the fact that her two babies had been whittled down to one, E's mother comforted herself by choosing to believe that E's brother's soul had intertwined with E's, and therefore her two children occupied the same body.

Growing up with this kind of pressure drilled into them, E had to take their mother's word over anything. Parents were the solid foundation of youth, and because E's father possessed a job which required him to spend most of his time away from home, they had to listen to the ideas that their mother constantly repeated over and over again. There was no other choice.

E's childhood was spent in hiding. If they came out one day identifying as a girl, and the next identifying as a boy, people were bound to talk - and this would've resulted in their mother being locked up. They thought that this situation was normal, and had become accustomed to this certain way of life. Their mother promised them that as soon as they were eighteen, they were free to travel the big, scary world.

Of course, their whole life hadn't been spent entirely indoors. When the moonlight was the only light present in the beautiful city of Baltimore. they were given there mother's blessing to explore the quiet streets - as though it was possible to find yourself in an empty city, that's streets echoed with silence.

When E's eighteenth birthday came around, they made the courageous decision to move to New York City. Never one to express an interest towards materialistic goods, E packed their eighteen years of existence into a tiny suitcase and headed off into the real world.

New York City was buzzing with people, and displayed a sense of individuality that E had never experienced before. The city quite literally never slept, so E was forced to brave the harsh daylight and walk around streets that were congested with people from all over the world.

The apartment E lived in was small and dingy, yet was everything that they had ever dreamed of. Still stuck on their previous way of living, E alternated the days upon which they identified as female and then a male.

Throughout Evelyn's adolescent life she dreamed of becoming a singer, and would fill the emptiness of her room with her haunting, yet beautifully eerie voice - mimicking the songs that she heard on her mother's treasured record player.

However, on the chosen days when Edgar would put on his short suit, shirt and tie, a pen and paper became his weapon against the world - his only source of sanity against the unaccepting society he existed in. Dreams of becoming a writer became his deepest wishes, and writing about murder acted as an escapism. Perhaps it is questionable whether these stories of violent murder were his darkest fantasies, as he felt that death was the only place that he would ever be truly accepted.


Set on these separate dreams according to the gender E was on that day, Evelyn worked hard in the studio. and lurked late at night in old Jazz bars - either performing on the stage or smoking and drinking liqueur with rich record producers who promised her that she would "make it".

Edgar, on the other hand, spent his days punching letters on his typewriter and hoping that the words he would type would amount to a mystery so thrilling it was cause perspiration to drip from every pore.

Strangely enough, both Evelyn's and Edgar's success happened at the same time, and soon they were being recognised for their talents. Evelyn found a producer who no longer used her vulnerability to get her into bed, and Edgar made acquaintances with a friendly publisher, who promised to publish his stories as long as he kept writing more.

Both shooting to fame overnight, and having so much in common, it became peculiar to the public why Evelyn and Edgar never attended the same events. Panicking that people were starting to realise, E was forced to come up with a plan.

That night, receiving the news that their mother had suddenly died, E knew that they were free to do whatever they wanted, and didn't need their mother's blessing to do so. E knew that it was time to come clean and let the public know the truth.

E announced their story on national radio, and shocked the world. No longer did they have to hide who they were, yet they still didn't feel happy. With that said, E died the true deaths of both writers and singers combined - a heart full of sorrow and a body overdosed on drugs and cheap alcohol.

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Thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoyed it!

See you next Wednesday.

Love,
Grace x