Is it ok? 

I was walking up a huge hill this week when my phone rang.  Amazing really as phones do not ring in my village, signal is as scarce as someone who will admit to voting for UKIP.  Anyway, the phone rang and as I got my breath back and panted terribly rudely down the phone I had a chat with my mate.  During the conversation I was asked for my view on ripped jeans.  Is it ok to still wear ripped jeans she says?  Said friend is 10 years younger than me.  Like everything, I gave it a lot of thought and said in my opinion for my age ripped jeans are ok as long as the rip is on the thigh and the rip is quite small, a big no no for me is ripped jeans at the knee.  Purely personal of course, I just don’t like my 40yr old plus knees being on show like that!!  We had a laugh about it.  She said I should write a blog on it!!! I said I can’t do that – I can’t write a blog about ripped jeans?! 

But here I am writing a blog about ripped jeans.  More than that writing a blog about friendship, ripped jeans and the fact as women we still seem to be considering whether it’s ok to wear something or not?!  I was a bit surprised at myself.  Even though we joked about it, I realised that I had actually given quite a lot of consideration to the ripped jeans wearing debate much to my friends surprise as I relayed the pros and cons! She later text me to say she’d decided against said jeans, putting it down to an issue with, in her words , ‘fat poking through’. 

 

So why as women are we still wondering if its ok to wear something or not! As International womens day fell this week on the 8th March women should at the very least be comfortable to wear what we like. So I’m going to try to give less attention to my slightly wrinkly knees and more attention to giving confidence to the body those knees belong to!  

 

To finish, during a week to celebrate women I want to thank all of you women and all of you people out there that love and celebrate us women. Thanks for catching up over lunch, a phone call, a message, your hugs, kisses and love. Thanks for being in my life and helping it to be, incredibly, a beautiful place. 
Happy Sunday 
Dwys X 

Justifying yourself?

Hi it’s just me. I’m just writing my blog.

I’m on a mission.

To remove the word just from my vocabulary.  Read that first sentence again. I sound apologetic and a bit pathetic.  This time I’ll write the sentence again, without the offending word…..Hi it’s me, I’m writing my blog!

So different!!

Along with eliminating the word sorry  (unless it’s actually warranted of course), this has been quite a feat. 

I stopped saying sorry, for purely existing, about 10 years ago.  You’ll notice now how many times you say sorry.  For absolutely no reason, for example,  I used to say it when people knocked into me in the street! Sorry (that you weren’t looking where you were going!).

I was always saying sorry.  I’d walk in a room … Sorry, do you have a pen? Sorry, can I use the phone? Sorry, can you pass me the pepper? Sorry, have you finished with that?

Sound familiar?

I’ve almost stopped doing it. Now I  notice how often so many others are apologising. All the time.

Just has been a bit more of a challenge.  During my spell checking of work emails I also now have to go back and remove the words just. 

Generally and surprisingly  there are about four apologetic ‘just’ words in every email!! Shocking.  I was writing a very serious email the other day and when I reviewed it before sending I found…. Hello, I just wanted to…. I just feel…..I just thought …..argh!! Take the word just out and I’m appearing stronger and more confident.

I’m not sure where this apologetic nonsense began. I notice it far far more in women which is probably no surprise.  Most of us have been apologising since we (just) left the womb.

So. In an aim to take small steps in feeling more confident, assured and more importantly less apologetic for simply breathing, maybe try it.  It honestly make you feel more positive and less… well…. just sorry!

Stop apologising for being the brilliant person you are!

Happy Sunday everyone xx

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Ps. Upon reviewing this blog I had to delete the word just two times!!

Judge me not

Some weeks what I’m going to write about just hits me in the face – like every day something will happen and I’ll think – that is worth writing about!! This week it’s about judgement.

It’s been a week where Cameron thought he was being a ‘big man’ when in fact he was being a ‘big bully’ as he criticised what Jeremy Corbyn wore. Emily Watson got involved in a talk about feminism.  The only thing the papers could think to talk about was her new haircut, dress and her eyebrows.

It’s not only the famousness’s that are criticised though.  I’ve witnessed lately  criticisms on peoples weight (too fat/too thin), criticism on someones clothes because they were ‘dirty’ (a bit of mud from some walking!) and I was was criticised this week because….. wait for it………. I spelt a word wrong!!!!!!  I don’t want to boast or anything (cue boasting because I worked bloody hard for it over six years working and raising 2 children…..) – I have an English degree and I’m normally a decent speller!   For some really bizarre reason I thought that bit at the bottom of your back was a coxis!! I now realize it is in fact a coccyx!

There were two things I was criticized heavily for in the abuse on twitter – the first was that I disagreed with what a medic said about the ineffectiveness of homeopathic medicine.  I was once treated for severe pain of the coccyx (get it right Dwysan!)  and this magical woman transferred me from a spluttering crying wreck to being pain free in about 3 minutes! It truly was amazing!  I was ‘mocked’ for falling for ‘sugar water’ and also further mocked for my spelling mistake!  She lost her ability to spell with her pain said the twitter woman, a barrister at that. Nice!

So judge we do.

When I trained volunteers to work at Women’s Aid one session was about being non-judgemental.  I always started the session by saying that is impossible.  You can’t be non judgemental.  Walk into any room and you will judge – she’s pretty, he’s cute, she’s a bit overweight, his hair is a bit greasy, she looks rich, he looks like he needs a wash……… everyone does it.  Everyone.

The trick is not to turn that judgement to hate.  To cruelty.  To mock.  To jibe.  Because really what on earth do you get from it?   Being cruel is just… well shitty!

I’m accused of being too fluffy at times on here and I probably am because I really think we can make this place a much better world if we all tried a bit.  My mum always said Ito me…. you can’t change the world (she was just trying to protect me because I was campaigning for Superman says no to cigarettes* from about 8 – she knew where it was going clearly).  Maybe you can’t.  You can make a positive difference though.

So go judge, we all do it. We just don’t have to be mean about it.

Go make the world a better place!

 

 

*Ps I stopped campaign for that particular cause at about 14 when I discovered silk cut…

*pps thankfully no longer a habit of mine!

 

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Morning!

Who knew there was such a thing as national breakfast week. Well there is and it’s happening now!

I’ve received a whole load of emails about breakfast and what to eat to get your day off to the best start.

I’m afraid I read them with some scepticism.  The thought of avocado with a poached egg at 6.30 am is more likely to make me feeling sick than super.

It did make me think though about how the start to the day can make all the difference.

The days I wake up feeling  the best are when I’ve not had my ‘post work I deserve it’ glass of wine or two. I’ve eaten less crisps and more celery. I’ve swapped the tea for tap water.  I stopped myself searching vintage on eBay and slept before midnight.   But the thing that always energises me the most? Especially first thing.  Exercise.

Don’t all groan!

I know it’s a list of what we already know is good for us.

So why is it we so often ignore what we know makes us feel better? I know all this yet my brain forgets to tell me most nights as I try to work out if 5.48pm is acceptable to have my first sauvignon.

It’s just odd how we do things to ourselves that we know don’t make us feel good.   I’m not talking about giving up the wine! !  Don’t be silly!  

A couple of time a week though. Make a small change to the start of your day.  I might not entirely agree with the concept that smoked salmon is going to put some magic into my morning.  Yet I do know that getting my trainers on and running a couple of miles through these imposing hills and Spring colours makes me smile, makes my skin glow, gives me that feeling inside.

So be it a walk,  or some stretching,  a bit of yoga, an early swim or cycle or even a dance around in the kitchen.  Try it and see how it makes you feel.   You can always have that fry up when you get back in and before you know it it’ll soon be 5.48pm!

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Dwys x

Day 2, the self-love diet. My body

So today I get an email at 5.47am with my self-love diet requirements. I groan out loud as soon as I see the first two words.  Dear Body.

It goes like this.

Statement 1

Dear Body, when I think of you as an instrument instead of an ornament, these are the things I appreciate that you do for me: (required)

Thinking of you as an instrument rather than an ornament is difficult. When I saw the title of this I immediately thought urgh. I want to be one of *those* women. The women that know they should love their body no matter what. I want to be one of *those* women that know I shouldn’t judge my body based on the pressure of society. Awkwardly, for the first thirty years of my life, my severe poor body image was really down to my father. Despite his abusive domineering and cruel traits, I actually very rarely blame or vocalise his behaviour to an audience.  However on this occasion I do (it will come as no surprise that he is no longer a factor in my life).  He spent the best part of my teenage years convincing me that every male was a predator. Waiting in dark corners. I then spent the first thirty years of my life wearing jumpers that not only covered my top half entirely up to my chin but also covered most of my hands to the tip of my fingers, along with baggy but colourful trousers and a short non-descript haircut. I guess I thought I’d be safer.

When I got to thirty, worked with victims of domestic abuse, experienced the strength of my mother and men I liked, when I  became aware of power and control, I threw the baggy trousers to one side and found mascara. Because I could.

So what do you do for me as an instrument body?

You gave me a powerful, sensitive, angry, feisty, loving, questioning mind. That makes up for all the stretch marks you sent my way.

Statement 2

These are the things I love about your appearance: (required)

Love about my appearance?

I’m afraid that’s simple. I don’t love anything about my appearance and I didn’t know that until I was asked just now.

On a good day when my hair is shiny (er) and the grey has been masked I quite like my hair. My hands were quite nice but now they are getting older. I hate my feet. My legs are ok, I like them mostly because they remind me of my Nannas. My lips were better a few years ago as were my eyes.

Having said all that I do like myself and I often believe liking is more powerful than love. Love is sometimes something that just happens involuntarily. Liking is an altogether different emotion that requires thought and effort.

Statement 3

I commit to love and honor you by: (required)

I know how to answer this easily. I commit to love and honour my body by being a bit nicer to what goes in it. I’ll commit to feeding you less wine, pringles, cheese, yule log and mince pies and more water, de-caf tea, bananas, rocket and veg.

Happy 2016 to my body. And to yours x

 

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