In These Heels

Bought from ASOS.com for £38 some time ago, its simply perfect. Makes me look and feel gorgeous. Only wish I had bought the purple one too.

And wouldnt this dress be perfect with the Miss KG shoes below…..?

Le sigh

Pics are my own, taken with my old faithful Samsung Pixon phone, which is being replaced this week

Oh if only I wasnt completely skint! I dont know if I can hold off for birthday money to buy these shoes, I will be in the Kurt Geiger shop on 13th August, a whole 2 WEEKS before my birthday! Not fair.

Buy Miss KG Minnie heels here. Also in purple and black.

Twitter is a strange land. You think you know someone. Then there’s a fight. There’s unfollows, and someone leaves, and theres a few silly bitchy comments about them then *poof* its like they were never there. But they still exist, out there somewhere. You can email them, but then you realise actually maybe they don’t want to continue a friendship, on any level with you. They may well slope back to Twitter under a different guise in the future, but I wont hold my breath waiting for a request. Worst of all though, are the ‘friends’ who still follow, but obviously don’t give a shit what you talk about, or how you feel.

Well you know what? Its their loss.

For some Twitter is a joke, its a place to be someone better, funnier, or ruder than you are in real life. I’m just me. I’m not out to play games with people, or send dirty DM’s, its just my random thoughts, that would flood this blog if I put each and every one on here!

Rant over, please proceed as normal.

Edit: BTW, its not about who you think it is, honestly. It was a long term follower who decided to ditch me. His loss.

Theres much debate on the interwebs about Tom Boys. Seemingly Brad Pitts daughter prefers to dress in boys clothes, have short hair, and generally ‘act like a boy’.  Everyone is questioning if its finally acceptable for girls to break away from the Pink clutches of clichés, to finally be able to wear boys pants, and say ‘Hey, I can skateboard and hock up greeners too you know!’.

Its great that its created such debate, but what actually gets me is that all through these discussions we are still classifying these kids. Girls want to do boy things. Like what?  What makes a thing a ‘boy thing’? Dirt? Danger?  And boys who want to do ‘girl things’. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I expect hubby to take as much part in raising OUR child as I do, so if at the age of 5, or 6, he should have wanted to play houses, or push dolly in a pram, its only role play, and not something that only girls should be doing, its something that kids see both parents doing, and the same goes for cooking, most tv chefs are blokes.

And on the flip side of that coin. Girls who refuse to play with dolls aren’t doing themselves any favours. You will grow up, you will fall in love, and you, no matter whether you like to admit it or not, are the one with the womb. If you want a family, then a few practice sessions when you are in your summer hols, clip clopping about in your mums old stilettos from the ’80s isn’t going to turn you into a Stepford Wife.  Pretending to change tires on your bike (blue or pink) wont go amiss either.

The fact that these debates still include the divide is exactly WHY the divide is not about to be lifted. I was what you would call a Tom Boy, prefering the company of lads, to girls, and I’m still like that.  But I was the one with the painted nails, covered in mud. I was the one with the wellies with high heels, and a slingshot in my pocket. I was the one with the plaited hair, and the pretty skirts that caught on barbed wire.  Now I wear my football tops to the pub to watch the match, but still with full make up, tight jeans and high heels, and build fences wearing designer sunglasses.

You can do whatever the heck you like. You are you. Just cos some eejit on BBC news says thats boyish, doesn’t mean you have to listen to them. I know I haven’t.

I hate death. Hate it more than anything else in the world. I hate how it makes you feel as soon as you hear, shocked, worried, reflective. I hate the funeral, seeing people weeping so hard, not having words to say to comfort friends and family you have known all your life. I hate that sinking feeling afterwards, when you think you see them, or you want to tell them something, but then you remember you can’t.
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Its my day off. In fact, I’m off all week! And its GREAT!

I had an idea on Twitter last night, to document my day off. Like Ferris Bueller, only with better hair, and shoes. And so it starts!

Woke up, 8.30. Something fell down the stairs. My son had dropped one of his rollerblades as he went down to play the xbox. I dont know why he was carrying them either.

I had to get up. Tea. Biscuits. Sofa. Requires no heels.

And Batfink pj’s. Obviously.

I’ve been ebaying
M&S Heels, 99p, thank you very much!

Again, 99p, Primark Gucci-esque heels that never made it to my local store.

Finally, Topshop Unique heels. £38 on ebay, still with the stickers saying £115 original price.  I am undecided on them, especially what to wear with them!