A Handful of Lasts

As I enter my last week with Jack (my super amazing boyf) living within walking distance, I'm beginning to notice all the other lasts that are taking place and I'm not sure I'm okay with it.

Back in June I noticed the beginning of the end (wow, so dramatic) with all my lovely friends in year 13 leaving for summer while I was stuck starting my A2's (fun). I realised the last time I would see everyone at school had already gone and quickly the sadness of this realisation followed.

By this point I'd already had my last private study with Dan. I'd already had my last Friday gossip with Mark and Jamie. My last lunchtime with everyone.


And the sad part was I saw it coming, missed it and then it was gone. All my fears and nerves over exams had obliterated these worries. The opportunity to see these events come to an end had gone and there was nothing I could do.

It still hasn't quite hit me that these people will not be joining me at lunchtime, they won't be around when I have a free period, they've gone.

A party a few weeks ago was the last time I saw most of them. I almost cried saying goodbye to Kate and a emotional (and maybe slightly tipsy) me went back for the 'goodbye hug' at least three times. I really did try to live in the moment (how cliché) but it's hard. One part of me was loving life and the people I was with whilst the other was reminding me on how soon all these people would be gone and starting their new lives.

On the (drunken) walk home that night I needed Mark to comfort my holy-crap-everyone-is-leaving-for-uni-what-am-I-going-to-do mood (which he did, so thanks Mark). And I tried to dodge this reality that changes would actually start happening.

Now I'm the sort of person who loves a bit of sadness and heartbreak, just not when it comes to my own life (unless it's going to inspire an amazing blog post.) I'm struggling to believe that it's real and actually happening, while also being sad that it isn't me. I'm being left behind while everyone begins their new adventures, helplessly watching.

I've already seen Jack, Mark and Grace together for the last time (so much love for you all), the group that I got the privilege of spending my final months of year 12 with, something I will be forever grateful for. So thank you Jack, Mark and Grace, you have been the bestfriends I could have hoped for. 

It scares me. I don't want to see Jack for 'one last time' before uni. I don't want all these lasts but I cannot stop them; it's inevitable.




And I know it will be me soon enough. I'll have my lasts with other people, lasts before I leave for uni (hopefully). That will make me sad sure but at least it will be exciting, unlike the same daily routine of sixth form; without most of the people who make it bearable.

I'm sad to be saying goodbye to the best people I have been lucky enough to meet but I'm taking comfort in the thought of their new and wonderful lives. So take this as a massive thank you. Thank you for letting me feel so welcome. Thank you for including me. Thank you for bringing me happiness. Good luck in your new lives, I hope they are nothing less than incredible.

--- Aimee ---

Braless and Careless

#FreeTheNipple (as its known on many social media sites) is an often controversial campaign; one I'm about 95% on board with (5% of me is too scared of partaking in the campaign in fear of judgment).

The concept of normalising female nipples to be de-sexualised (if that's a term?) isn't really an irrational belief. Their whole purpose of nipples is to feed babies (unless I missed out on the memo telling men their purpose is sexual pleasure? Maybe it's just men that get that memo.)

It seems to be the case that you can show as much cleavage or boob as you want but the moment the nipple is released (like the wild animal it clearly is) there is outrage (usually from the likes of white-middle-class men like Piers Morgan (if he counts as middle class.))

I mean I get it and I don't. If it really were nipples people are so scared of seeing then why are people so quick to slut shame girls wearing low cut tops? Maybe (if we're lucky) these people would drop to the floor at the cheeky sight of a nipple.

It's especially ridiculous when women get sent out of restaurants and cafes for showing their nipples (or not even showing them in most cases) while breastfeeding (logic please????) 'It makes me feel uncomfortable' so what? Maybe I'm uncomfortable with your awful sense in fashion but I'm being polite about it. Plus its kinda a big deal, you know, feeding a living human, it's not an unreasonable request to want to breastfeed (if you have a child ofc, otherwise it is odd.)

You see, Free The Nipple actual means normalise and de-sexualise the nipple, not get your tits out for the lols (as many people see it.) There is a purpose to the campaign and it's a reasonable and achievable one. It just seems ridiculous that many men are enticed by nipples and tits but the minute you essentially give them what they want, you get scrutinised (probs because it's for feminism and not for their own desires to be met (oh poor you)).

Other than the social norm of wearing a bra (and I don't really get why it's the norm) and wanting my boobs to look good (or better should I say) there isn't really much point. For starters, shopping for a bra is the most annoying and lengthy type of shopping.

First you have to work your way through the range that M&S (it's the only place to find the right bra, lets be honest) have to offer and decide if you want a push-up, balcony, strapless, plunge, t-shirt, underwire or multi-way (to name a few.) Who needs that number of choices? I want a bra that's comfy and fits, is that too much to ask?

Then you have the 'oh shit I don't remember what size I am, mum (because mum means more knowledge and a free bra, so who's the real winner here) can you check' followed of course by the awkward *hope no one sees my naked back in the middle of M&S while mum checks the size which has probably faded by now* which is just as bad each time. And, if you're wearing a dress and not a t-shirt, you, my friend, are screwed.

If you're lucky and still have a visible bra size in your bra you then have the delightful task of finding 'the one' (bras, not boys; it's probably an easier task). White, black, skin colour, red, blue, pink; oh I don't care just give me a bloody bra.

Upon deciding on the nicest and most 'you' colour you'll probably find that it isn't available in your size (ha, peak) and back to square one it is. But if, low and behold, your size is there, you'll get to try it on and 9 times out of 10 it doesn't fit because the bra size from your balcony bra doesn't correlate with the same size in the push up one you've picked up. Oh well, no new bra for you today.

Personally I will only #FreeTheNipple in tight tops where a braless Aimee will not be a overcome-with-pain-especially-in-the-event-of-stairs-Aimee. Tight tops are a much nicer compromise and rarely even show everything. And I guess not wearing a bra isn't technically freeing anything except my inner feminist but I'm cool with that, after all that's the whole point of the campaign; not to literally get your nipples out (obvs).

So, I think you should all #FreeTheNipple whenever possible because bras are uncomfy and hard work and a commitment that I'm not willing to make.

--- Aimee ---

A Release

This world is an ugly and disgusting place (woah what a pessimist).

So much terror and trauma, death and killings, sadness and hurt. Sometimes it's nice to (and I know its bad and highly frowned upon) turn a blind eye on all this and reach for an escape. There's no complete escape of course, you always have to come back to the real world (yes, I agree, it sucks).

It's not just the acts which make me despair against humanity that I like to escape from, it's everyday life. It's the sadness I overwhelm myself with when I'm having a bad day. It's the 'nah not today' feeling when I wake up. It's the expectations of me that sometimes I just want to chuck out the window.

Some days it is just better to find escape in either music or a book; that usually works for me.

Books are the more challenging option (probably because it requires effort, oops) because, unless it's an intensely gripping book, like The Girl on the Train (which was AMAZING) it takes so much willpower to convince yourself to keep reading (well for me anyway). Sadly I'm stuck with that at the moment. After rapidly finishing The Kite Runner, I moved onto Travelling to Infinity, which, if you don't know is the biographical piece of literature written by Jane Hawking about her life spent with Stephen. (Aka the book behind 'The Theory of Everything' which I haven't watched so no spoilers please.) It's a remarkable book but some detail I could do without (sorry Jane).

I guess it must be even harder if you're not spiritually connected to books (aka a bookworm) which,  most of the time I like to convince myself I am (ha, I'm really not). If you can't see the beauty of a book within at least the first few chapters then what's the point? (which is probably exactly your thoughts before you hide the book away for another few months (or years) before you pick it up again and force yourself to reach the end).

Everyday life is the issue. I can fly through a book in a week by reading parts here and there if I'm on holiday. But I'm not. And I'm very bad at reading when everyday (modern) life is so darn distracting. Why would I want to read when I could switch between Instagram, Snapchat and Twitter every couple of minutes and see no new content? Or when I could re-watch old episodes of Gogglebox? Or sit waiting for one of my friends to make contact with me? (Ha, as if.)

I wish I could be more a more New-York-coffee-shop-reading-classics kinda gal but I'm not and I probably never will be. I'm more a stereotypically-reads-on-holiday-like-the-rest-of-the-nation kinda gal and I can live with that.

Music however has a much different effect on me. It's not something I need to 'get in to' or be in the right mood for. Music is something rather different.

Music can have such an impact. It can change you emotionally; change your behaviour, impact your life. If you are yet to experience this type of world, you haven't found the right song. That one song (or many songs) that hit you right in the heart. The ones where you just have so much passion and fire in your soul that no words seem to do the feeling justice.

When you're on a train (like I currently am) and you just want to scream the lyrics at the tops of your lungs. (Don't worry, I won't. Even if I did people wouldn't know the song so it would just look odd (The Only Hope For Me Is You is the song in case you were wondering)). Or when you're at a party and Mr Brightside comes on and you just feel completely overjoyed with life (really hoping this is a multicultural thing and not just another British quirk).

And I swear I fall in love all over again when I hear The Fall by Imagine Dragons or All I Want by Kodaline. (How a song can ever possess that much beauty I do not know.) And that, that right there is the type of impact I want to gain, whether it be from music or from any other aspect of life.

I want to live my life listening to rebellious Green Day and My Chemical Romance songs while also shedding a tear at Coldplay or Kodaline. I want music to take over my entire existence. I want to relish in my release from this world and live with all the happiness compressed within it.

--- Aimee ---