my bald face

What a week!

Despite finger bone cold weather, I have had a gloriously satisfying week or so of personal accomplishment. well...that may be slightly overstepping it.

Ive been slightly spoilt by going out for a few meals out with erica and liz. Tastecard - what would i do without you? Thai/pan asian isnt my favourite of cuisines but i do enjoy one dish at The Banana Tree in soho, and I did try something new as well - which i almost never ever do. As I am yet stonkingly rich, eating out is still a massive treat for me so I am always hesitant in ordering something new, not enjoying it and this ruining
treat.
Speaking of treats - I have given up crisps for lent. Its been almost two weeks since a  luscious beef space raider touched my lips. It was getting to the point that I would rather eat crisps when I got home than cooked myself a dinner, and nutritionally this is not good for my body. The downside? My sweet tooth has kicked in and I went crazy for a few days craving chocolate. In fact on valentines day, I wolfed a bar of Godiva chocolate at my desk at work. And that shit is expensive!

Work has been slightly more stressful of late - sometimes it just feels a bit much. Everything gets heightened - things that wouldn't normally bother me end up irritating the living shit out of me. I am so bored sometimes that mindless gossip is the only thing that keeps me interested. And then I get pissed that I have fallen into the trappings of office politics.
A good thing that came out of work however, is that I joined a project to help find new bands and artists so at least now I have a reason to get out to see live bands more.

I am currently writing a piece for Black Milk about body image and diets and self worth - and its been difficult. I have found myself doubting my own belief system - the more words I write the more I question myself. And its difficult because its something that I am incredibly passionate about. Because I am five nine, a size 18 and I do not wear clothes from the high street, I can stick out like a sore thumb. But I dont care - id rather wear what I like than be yet another cookie cutter.
I digress - if ever there was a self confidence boost, it was being picked to be a model for Illamasqua at their make up artist lock in! And it was London Fashion Week so there were some important faces in there. I almost didnt go - I sat in the bar after work with my friends actually petrified - and then I kicked my own ass and went. And I was so glad I did. As I sat in the chair the illamasqua make up artists claire and daniel enquired what was under my pencilled in eyebrows. ' Nothing' I replied. ' AMAZING! FANTASTIC! PERFECT!' they cried. And I flushed with happiness - ive always been pretty facially bald to constant teasing and banter from my friends. But hearing positive things come from professionals in the beauty industry ( Claire works on downton abbey!) made me feel almost proud of my missing eyebrows.

And as Claire removed all my make up, I become acutely aware that I would be sat in front of 40 people who work in beauty - with absolutely nothing on my face. I wanted to puke in fear. I focused by staring dead ahead at the wall while they worked their magic. Heres me with a half face of 1920s make up.

I had people paying me lots of compliments and taking my photo. And it made me think of how at 17, terribly insecure and feeling inadequate that I wasnt thin - that it was me who has had the most modelling experience, and im the fattest!

Heres a photo of me taking by Abbey Drucker  - an amazing photographer who has shot for vogue

This was taken at five am at The Hyatt Hotel in Los Angeles. Boy, I was wrecked. Messy Interpol aftershow.
So I guess what I am trying to say - thin does not mean beautiful. Thin does not mean better. you will not achieve more by being thin.

And what better way to celebrate that sentiment than with pancakes with liz

and then steak and beer while watching footie with irish

Friday was our quarterly company meeting at Ronnie Scotts Jazz Club where we all pile in to a dark hot room and try not to pass out from heat exhaustion. In fact at one point it was so bad I spend m ytime trying to fashion a fan out of my napkin rather than listen to what the director was saying ( im sure its along the olines of  cd sales down, digital up). We all piled into Tiger Tiger afterwards where shots were had, dubious dance moved were performed and there was far far too much inappropriate girl talk, especially considering three people were my superiors. How can I take people seriously once they have confessed to me what their pubic hair looks like?

It was getting pretty rowdy and I had already clocked up a nice mixture of beer, white wine, pink wine, vodka, sambuca and a mystery shot. I staggered over to irishes who thought it would be a sobering prompt to chuck water bombs from his window as an incentive to get me to open the front door unassisted ( goddamn electronic entry systems ) I was trying to cover how drunk I was but I dont think I did a very good job because i passed out on the sofa. I did wake up back up, we sang a bit of celine dion and went and caught closing time at the pub.

couldnt even keep my eyes open in a selfie

I dont overly remember getting the bus home. Thats not good.

The next four days are going to be bleak as shit. Its the last four days before pay day. WOE!

At least today I get my pink hair back