Us women, we put ourselves through a lot in the name of fashion...and vanity...don't we? Along with childbirth, menstrual cycles, and everything else our body goes through, we then add to that with waxing, plucking, squeezing ourselves into skinny jeans and wearing heels.

At the weekend I went to a garden party. I wondered for a while which shoes to wear. Did I really need to wear heels? Or could I get away with flip flops with my pretty blue lace dress. I opted for the heels, and everything was going well until 8 hours later when my feet were aching. I looked around, about an hour or so into the evening there were high heels laying on the ground, and a couple of women walking around with bare feet.
It's almost like standard practise for us now, isn't it? Completely normal for us to take our shoes off and risk cutting our feet on glass, or rocks, or to parade the blisters we have gained from those much desired shoes.

But it's worth it right?
Shoetique created the graphic below, showing how certain celebrities suffer for their art and their dedication for fashion.
And let's face it, they did a good job.

I remember you telling me about a dream you had. Where you woke up in the morning upset because your babies had gone. I don't want to talk too much about the dream, because it's personal of course, but it was almost like you had the realisation that your babies were now grown up.
You always say that although we are adults we are still your children, and that it's hard to accept (if that's the correct word to use) that your children are now grown up. We have responsibilities, our own lives, decisions and choices.

The thing is, we may be adults, but we are still your babies. We still rely on you, we still need you. Sometimes the only person who can fix things is you. You help us in so many ways and we don't know what we would do without you.
You are the most amazing support and not only are you our mother, but you are our best friend.

15 years ago your role became even more important, and you stepped into it perfectly. We became that tight unit of 3 and we proved to ourselves, and everyone else, that we didn't need that person who used to make our unit a 4. We worked so well without that person.
We trusted each other, and we still do. We all fell into these particular roles and it was so hard at times, but knowing we were all there for each other made it easier.

I feel so proud of that unit of 3. Recently we've spent a few days as that unit. The bbq in your garden, the canoeing and roast dinner. I felt so content, and so proud.
Of course I adore my children but being there, just the 3 of us, gave me the best feeling. Simply being Lauren, the daughter and the twin. Sitting with two people who mean so much to me, more than I can ever explain.

We all joke about Dale being grumpy, and we all know that conversations with him are done on his terms. And it's easy to accept that, especially when there are evenings when an hour can pass with us messaging each other non-stop on Whatsapp.
I've always felt so lucky to have him. I couldn't imagine my life without him and I am not only proud that he is my brother, but that he is my twin.
When people ask if we are close I wonder how he responds to that. My immediate response is yes, and then comes a full on speech about how wonderful he is. Because I can't help it.
I have always wanted to please him, for him to be as proud of me as I am of him. I need his acceptance a lot of the time, I think I always have but even more so since dad left.
He became that strong male figure in my life, even at 15, and as the years go on that role feels stronger and stronger.

This year has been the best year when it comes to our relationship. And you know that this is the moment I stop typing because of the tears in my eyes.
June, when I spent those special, unforgettable days with him, that quality time where it was just us. Twin time. I needed that, and my heart still feels so full of love and happiness from those 5 days.
You made that happen.
If it wasn't for you letting me borrow money to pay for the flights and if it wasn't for you taking time off work to look after the boys then I couldn't have gone.
If it wasn't for your support and you knowing how important it would be then I wouldn't have gone.

Those 5 days were the best 5 days of my life. I can say that truthfully and confidently.

I remember being on the back of his bike, and wanting you to be able to see us. Not only for you to see me sitting upright on the bike, hands gripped onto that back bar, looking around at the scenery rather than clinging onto his waist as tight as I could with my head down and eyes closed as I did back in April, but for you to see your babies.
I wanted you to see what you created. Those two adults, those two siblings, who can go on holiday together and spend time together despite other people saying "You brought your sister?! You're sharing a tent?!" We shared a womb, a tent is nothing!
I wanted you to see the smiles on our faces, the way he made sure I had the best experience I could have. The way he thought carefully every morning about where we should watch the races from so we could have the best view. He made sure I was comfortable, and that I could see.
The first time a bike came past, his excitement was contagious. Mum, I've never seen him smile like that. And I understood it. As my eyes filled with tears so fast that it shocked me, as I heard the bikes over the tanoy system and as the atmosphere filled with adrenaline and excitement, as my heart pounded and as that panic attack started. He put his arm around me, he squeezed me, and at that moment I wanted the whole world to know how special he is.
He would point out the riders to me as they went past, making sure I knew when William and Michael had gone past because he knew how much I love the Dunlops. He would tell me all about the riders, their history and about the bikes.
He shared his passion and made it mine too.
On the last day when I knew it was almost time to go to the airport, when I practically jumped from the wall and almost collapsed next to him, resting my head on his shoulder as I sobbed and sobbed at that time being over, I didn't just cry because of the experience ending. But because that time with him was up.

The tears that fell as we rode to the airport were ridiculous. The inside of your helmet looked like there had been a full on rain storm. I didn't want to take the helmet off when I got to the airport because it was so obvious how much I had been crying.
Saying goodbye to him at the airport was one of the hardest moments ever.

Your babies, are the people they are today, because of you.
We may have two parents but you are the one who made us who we are.
You are the one who is always there, the support, the one we turn to, the one we can talk to and trust.

Without you, who knows what we would be like today. Who knows which memories we would have instead, and how different our lives would be.

It might feel like your babies are gone, but we are still here. Still needing you as much as we always did.

The team at Pop Events has been in the party planning business for a number of years. They can use their experience to ensure that the event goes off without any problems.

Tap water is one of those things that we regularly hear horror stories from. The list of impurities and chemicals can make you wonder how on earth water is a healthy drink...right?

Even bottled water is revealed as having some impurities and currently in some areas people are being told not to drink water straight from the tap and to make sure it is boiled first.
Boiling water is time consuming, so water distillers are the ideal way of getting pure, clean water without the hassle.
With the Megahome Deluxe water distiller from JD Harris you get drinking water that is purer and cleaner than you have ever tasted.  

Before I was pregnant with Harry I didn't really drink coffee much. I was more of a tea person. Then when pregnant with Harry I was completely put off tea. The taste of it made me sick, the smell of it made me feel sick, and so I turned to coffee as my alternative. And never looked back!
Last year I switched from having a white coffee to having black coffee and like it so much more! I never really understood people who had black coffee. I always thought they were just showing off, or pretending to be all "la-de-dah. Look at me appreciating coffee without any additional liquids (other than water)"...but actually it does taste so much better.

I think it would be fair of me to say that I do have a caffeine addition. Despite being told it could affect my anxiety and it being suggested that cutting down on caffeine could improve it, I actually find the opposite.

I'd love to have a blank wall in my kitchen to decorate with a variety of coffee quotes, most of which are on my coffee quotes Pinterest board.


I do actually own this top. I love it, and at £8 it is a complete bargain!

This has always been my outlet. My therapy. My place to go when I need to go somewhere.

It's always felt quite natural, quite simple.
Open laptop. Look at screen. Type.

Some posts I sit and focus on what I'm reading, and others I just let myself type. And then post. And read afterwards. Those are the therapy type posts.
But recently, it all seems a bit hard. Like there is a blockage in the way.
In my head, they are all there, the posts are just queueing up. All ready written, just needed to be typed up. But my fingers aren't working. The information isn't getting all the way to them, and I don't know why.

It makes me angry. With myself. Because it's like a vicious circle. I write these posts to empty my mind and release whatever is there, but as those posts are not being released they are being clogged up, and I am beating myself up about it, because I am confused and angry, which is then creating more that needs to be released.

This isn't me. It's not me to not be able to write anything.

I had a post in draft. I've been wanting to write it for a year and had the perfect day to write it. Perfect in the sense that there was something on that day that was relevant to the topic of the post and the reason I wanted to write the post.
So for a year I had been wanting to write it. In my head, it was there. All perfect. No longer in draft. I knew it would be one of the ones where I just stare, type, post and then read.
So I sat at the laptop, a week before that date, wanting to type it so I could schedule it. But nothing came out.
A title. That was all.
I wrote a paragraph and sat there and knew it wasn't right. Because it wasn't me writing it. It was too forced. I was having to think about it too much.
And then I felt I had let myself down.
Every day I sat and tried to write that post. I even sat with a notebook and a pen to see if writing it down in that way would be better, but the words were there, I could hear them, I could see them, but my hands wouldn't write them or type them.

I keep thinking "if you're stuck just write about Isle of Man" because I still have SO MUCH I want to share from there but nothing will work.

It's like my fingers are broken. I am lost and my fingers are broken.

I can't accept that this is "just a blog". It's not. It might be to others, and that is understandable.
But to me, this is more.
It's MY place.
I can't just take a break from it. It wouldn't help.
It is too much of a part of me to leave behind, even if for a week or two.

It feels like I am being punished, and I'm not sure what for.
Why am I punishing myself?

I'm trying to find a positive in all of this. And I'm struggling to find any positive at all, other than the fact that it confirms to me how important this is to me.
I need this. I rely on this.
I just need to write.

Read

Ok so, I tend to go through random obsessions with blogs. I binge read them, and then leave them, and then go back and binge read again. Not in a rude way. But more in a "One post is not enough, I need to read more because this is SO GOOD" way. Superlatively Rude is one of those blogs and, excited face, she has written a book! 

Because I am a loser I bought the book, downloaded it and then printed it off. Hello there low ink warning icon! But it was so worth it. I haven't had the chance to sit and read it properly yet, but as I was putting the pages into the plastic file things in my ring binder, trying not to read any pages so I didn't have spoilers, one page just sat there for a while and I felt like maybe it was kept there like that for a reason. So I had a quick read, and tears filled my eyes. It was like that whole page was written FOR ME. It was everything I am going through and feeling this year.

Laura is such a great writer and I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who gets this urge to want to be her friend. You must MUST must buy her book, The Book of Brave. You won't regret it. 

This is a hundred pages reflecting on my version of brave. How it’s brave to say no, and brave to sit in silence with yourself and brave to tell somebody when they’ve upset you. It’s brave to say sorry and brave to do the thing you say you’re going to do and brave to eat lunch alone and change direction and tell them I love you and it is NOT being fearless but feeling fear and going balls-to-the-motherlovin’-wall on the adventure of your own life anyway.

Watched

My twin is back again! Yay! On Tuesday I took the boys over to Snetterton where my brother was doing a track day on his bike. 
I love watching him, I know how much he enjoys it and after going on the back of his bike I can only imagine how amazing it is to be able to ride it around a track.
As I sat there at one point I couldn't help but laugh at all of the safety barriers, fences, and so on protecting the public. I kind of felt like saying "Hey, I went to the TT. Safety who?!" This is my brothers video, the moment when Bruce Anstey almost took the phone out of my brothers hand! (17 seconds in) It's so crazy how close you can get there, and the lack of barriers!

Heard

So. Late. To. The. Ed. Sheeran. Party. We are obsessed with Lego House at the moment. And I am obsessed with 'You Need Me, I Don't Need You'...although swear words mean I am unable to play it when the boys are in the car.
I've also been listening to a lot of Spotify. Silly not to when I pay £10 for it every month!
Current Favourites:
David Zowie: House Every Weekend
Jack Ü feat Justin Bieber: Where Are Ü Now
Major Lazer: Lean On
OMI: Cheerleader
Lost Frequencies: Are You With Me
Kygo: Firestone
Hozier: Take Me To Church
Years & Years: King

Wore

On Sunday I had a sneaky trip to Matalan. I ended up getting 3 things in their sale.
I got a maxi dress for £8. A short sleeved, floaty cardigan for £3 and these jeans for £7.
I've wanted some ripped jeans for a while, I do already have a pair but they are now far too big and look ridiculous. I wasn't quite up for buying those Topshop ones everyone else has, the ££s put me off and I'm not sure I am slim enough.
I've also been wearing these Joules Leopard sandals. Oh, I love them so much! They are so so SO comfy. And yes, JOULES + LEOPARD PRINT = MADE FOR ME.

Made
I've been trying to make videos as for so long I have really admired the ones other bloggers make (Katie and Charlotte in particular). I'm not sure I'll ever be brave enough to talk to the camera. But I'm quite proud of these videos I've made so far.



And lastly....
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Author Bio

Stephen Juarez one of the Marketing guys of Electrodry Carpet Cleaning who is also currently studying as an Interior Design Major based in Iloilo City, Philippines. Originally based in Sampaloc (Manila), he moved in Panay before high school. Being indoctrinated early in writing activities after he migrated there, reading literature and writing instantly became his hobby. When he's not busy, he writes articles about health, home and life, and spends quality time with his family and friends during the rest of his time.

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As she sat on the back of the bike she couldn't help but to feel a bit scared. There's already an overwhelming vulnerable feeling being on a motorbike. No seat belt, nothing holding you on.
Her hands were gripped, tight, to the bar behind her. She couldn't hold on any tighter.

Her brother was in control of the bike. Up until this point she didn't think very highly of motorbikes. It was a case of motorbike = speed = death, and in a couple of events those few days were proof of that. But when she got on the back, although her heart was beating, she felt sick and couldn't help but to be anxious.
She felt tense and hoped it would be a quick ride but, soon enough, she loved it.
Soon enough she couldn't wait to be stood putting the helmet and gloves on and to hold onto her brothers back as she did her three bounce leg up and over manoeuvre, push down the visor, make sure her underwear wasn't in full view of everyone else and then to grip onto the bar behind her and to then hear the sound of the engine as she gave her brother the nod that she was ready to go.

She looked around everywhere they went, she soon realised that being tense was not only making it harder for her brother to control the bike, but was also ruining her experience. So she relaxed, she looked around and took in where she was. A beautiful island where everything is perfect. Looking around helped her to take in the very thing she had gone to experience, and to understand, a tiny bit, what the racers are capable of. She thought that if those racers can go along the roads at the speeds they do then she could easily sit on the back, holding on tight, not having to use any skill, and enjoy herself.

She at first found it intimidating when they stopped at lights surrounded by other bikes. And she felt like she shouldn't be there. But soon enough, she loved those moments. She loved being in amongst that adrenaline, surrounded by loud engines and the anticipation of the speed as they would all move away from the lights.

Within no time she had fallen in love with the sport and the machines. She got it. She understood the passion. She felt that excitement, adrenaline and need to hear the bikes scream past at incredible speeds.

Then there was that mountain run. The races had been called off because of strong winds, but they needed to go over the mountain to get back to their campsite. The alternative route was long and faffy. As they started up the mountain she questioned whether or not her hands could ever hold on tight enough to stop her from flying off.
She was scared.
She tried to focus her mind on other things, but this was just too much. It felt like they were never going to get to a safe point. She didn't feel in control of how she should be sitting, the wind was hitting her and pushing her. She waited until the moment came when she would be laying on the road. She wondered what the pain would feel like, or if she would feel any pain at all.

And then she remembered who she was riding with, and what he would say if he knew what she was thinking.
She knew she had to put her trust in him. He would never do anything to put their lives in danger.

As they pulled over at the Creg-ny-Baa pub she was able to loosen her grip...and to breathe. A sigh of relief, and to realise that as scary as it was on that mountain, it was an experience.
Another one she will never forget.

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