Tuesday, December 06, 2016


During my time at university, when spare time was as common as my accent, I would spend hours watching panda videos on YouTube. Pandas sneezing, rolling down hills and throwing themselves off a slide were personal favourites. Every second of footage made my eyes water with cuteness overload. They looked unlike anything I had ever seen, it was almost impossible to believe that they weren't men dressed in suits fooling us all.

For five years I planned a trip to China, I would climb the Great Wall, take a selfie with the Terracotta Warriors and stroll down the bund. But, most importantly, I would spend a day at Chengdu Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding... and it was more than I could have imagined.


Friday, October 07, 2016

Sintra, Portugal

I had never heard of Sintra, but followed a recommendation from a friend at work, and I was over the moon that I did. The home of monarchs, the town is filled with castles and palaces, all situated among the mountains. Whether you like your castles traditional, gothic, or a little whacky, you will find what you're after here.

The town is busy, and the roads leading into the mountains are more like tiny off road tracks. If you're arriving by car you may want to make sure you're a good driver (and definitely a good parker), I think I would have had a meltdown was I not with my brother.


Sunday, October 02, 2016

What to do in Lisbon

Bright, charismatic, and good looking - yes I'm talking about a city and not Tom Hardy. Lisbon feels old, but modern and fresh at the same time. Like it was built recently but made to look antique. I was travelling with a city scrooge who wanted to spend our entire trip beach hunting, so I didn't see as much of the place as I would of liked. But the best part of 48 hours was spent wandering, shopping, eating and taking an astounding amount of pictures.

Here is what I would recommend...


Friday, July 29, 2016

London West End | Kinky Boots

I spent a vast majority of this week entering into a lottery for tickets to see Kinky Boots in the West End. Every day my hopes would rise and then be drastically dashed when my notification beeped and I read the message ‘better luck next time.’

On a desperate whim I signed my mum up in hopes of increasing our chances and a few hours later we were sat in the front row of the Adelphi Theatre enjoying the greatest show on earth.

Based on the 2005 film, inspired by true events, the production tells the story of Charlie Price and the shoe factory he inherits from his father. Charlie joins forces with drag queen, Lola, to produce a line of kinky boots for men who want to wear heels – all in a bid to save the factory.

My mum was a huge fan of the film and I loved it too, but I didn’t expect the production to be quite as good as it was.

The music had me shimmying in my seat, holding back the desire to jump on stage and join in. Each cast member played their role perfectly and every single one of them had a hell of a voice. Not to mention, I fell utterly in love with Lola, played by the insanely talented Matt Henry. 

For the first time, I sat through a three-hour production without concern for numb bums and itchy feet. The evening went by in a flash and at the end I would have happily sat back down and watched the whole thing again. 

The feel good music, impressive dance moves and sparkly outfits had my head spinning - and let’s take a moment to talk about the drag queens. They took sassy to a whole new level and every wink, nod and smile in my direction made me feel like part of the performance.

If I haven’t sold the show enough, you should know I left with achy cheeks after three hours of smiling non-stop.
So ladies, gentlemen and those who are yet to make up your mind… I strongly recommend you head to the Adelphi Theatre for a night of pure bliss.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Switch House | Through the eyes of a philistine

I attended the press viewing of the new Tate Modern last month.
When the director, Nick Serota, said in his speech that the project was not just an extension but ‘a new Tate Modern’ he hit the nail on the head.
Filled with live performances aimed solely to make you uncomfortable, abstract pieces that make you question whether the artist was a child, and live parrots in a desert scene… it was a drastic change from the Tate Modern I visited a few years back.
Walking into the brown Lego building (I have no other words to describe the exterior, unless I go for hideous, but I’m trying not to begin with too much negativity), you have to appreciate the architecture on the inside. Some of the original structure of the engine turbine rooms’ remains, and the big open spaces, with marble winding staircases is enough to make anybody think they’re inside a palace.
Level 10 is undeniably the best thing Switch House has to offer. A full 360 degree view of the London skyline with a balcony that goes all the way around the top floor. Overlooking all the best buildings in the city, it offers one of the best views I’ve seen in a while (and it’s free)!
You can’t argue with the message, aiming to show pieces from around the world, because of course art is global. They’re also showing more exhibitions than ever before displaying the work of female artists – another noteworthy cause.
But when standing in a half empty room, staring up in the air to see what appears to be stuffed material in the shape of a hanging body, I have to ask myself ‘is that really art?’
Live performers walk around at various intervals, pushing into your personal space and repeatedly asking you to move. I missed the message at the start, but I imagine it was something powerful and the uncomfortableness was completely intentional.
I can appreciate beautiful photography, or hand-painted canvas’ that leave your mind wandering over what it could be, I even took a moment to stare at the big oak tree that comprised 77 different types of tree branch from around China. But even I have to draw the line over 10 planks of wood placed on top of each other, with litter filling the spaces.
With cages laid out as beds, live performers lying against the wall, Lego spilled all over the floor and two attendees holding each end of a bunting all morning (I hope they were paid well), I left with my head spinning.
My heart was split over enjoying the space and being completely disenchanted with the pieces on display… I suppose I’ve had that feeling in most of the art museums I have been to.
If you’re interested in abstract art and the ‘find the meaning’ craziness of art museums, you should definitely check it out. But beware, it gets weird… 
The lobby dividing the new Switch House from the existing gallery

The view from the 10th floor

Live performers doing strange things

One of the many pieces of "art"

Staircase leading from the turbine hall to the first floor


Wednesday, July 13, 2016

48 hours in Cardiff

After what can only be described as a stressful few weeks, a girly weekend away couldn’t have come at a better time.

Destination: Cardiff
Plan of action: Wing it

After grabbing cheap Megabus tickets online and booking to stay in a strangers house (also known as Airbnb) we headed to Wales on a Friday evening unsure of what to expect.

The four hour bus journey was certainly an experience. On the way there we were feeling rather optimistic about the whole ordeal and it turned out to be quite fun. We made a few friends, heard some extremely pessimistic views of Cardiff from the locals, but on the whole it made the journey go fairly quickly. The bus back to London however, slowly made me regret being such a cheapskate. We had the pleasure of children running around the bus and throwing up in the aisle, which was enough to make anybody never want to ride the bus again. Costing £10 for a round trip… your bank account would thank you for the sacrifice.

Luckily, the bus trip was made worth it by the beauty of Cardiff. We spent the weekend being the luckiest girls in town. Firstly by the fact that our Airbnb host was laid back and absolutely wonderful (plus she had a beautiful doggie named Pip who I wanted to sneak home in my suitcase). And secondly, because the weather forecast predicted rain for the entire weekend – yet we missed every downpour and seemed to be outside for every spot of sunshine… just call me Frano Selak.

Cardiff city centre has every shop your heart could desire but was a vast contrast to the hustle and bustle of London. Its calmer, slower pace was the perfect break from the intense pressure to run to work every morning alongside the London commuters. The locals are insanely friendly, smiling to strangers in the street doesn’t make you look like a crazy person and chatting on public transport is perfectly acceptable… who knew that was possible?

The people of Cardiff however, know how to party, and sadly we just weren’t up to the challenge. We had a great night in Missoula (the music was on point, though sadly no T-Swizzle) but I headed home at 1am and still spent the following morning nursing a hangover – I have never felt so old!

I’d love to go back, I feel like the city has so much more to offer. With a car in tow next time, it would be nice to visit the lands of Brecon Beacon and climb the Pen y Fan.

The next year is going to be filled with trips to beautiful cities in the UK. There is just so much the country has to offer and yet I have explored so little of it.

Live music and markets | Cardiff Bay had some great live music on Saturday, it definitely seemed like the busiest place in the city but the atmosphere was perfect for a sunny afternoon. You can wander the markets, grab a beer and sit and people watch – my favourite past time.
Time and Beef | My favourite spot of the weekend! A burger joint where you make your own meal by ticking all the boxes. No need to feel like a fusspot for requesting a meal without specific ingredients. The price is reasonable and Steve who owns the place is the nicest guy on the planet – we told him we were from out of town and he drew us a map with a list of recommendations. The hot chocolate comes in jars and they serve breakfast. What’s not to love?
Treetop adventure golf | I’m not a fan of golf, I never normally find it fun… but this turned out to be a great way to kill a couple of hours before our bus home. I was basically playing with two professionals so it felt a little like I was a toddler on a day trip with the parents… but I like to think for a second-timer I wasn’t too terrible. N.B. There are singing toads halfway round the course…
they’re great.
Speedboat around Cardiff Bay | We did the boat blast for 15 minutes and it was great fun. I also gave the driver my GoPro and he kindly filmed our trip for me. If you don’t like water maybe give this one a miss, the girl next to me was on the verge of having a panic attack. It’s super-fast, and you will get soaked.


Monday, May 30, 2016

Travelling in a tent

When we decided to work our way through Italy, it was a pretty rash decision full of ‘so do you fancy it?’ ‘Well, when are you free?’ ‘Sounds good, shall we just book it?’ Flights were booked in a mere twenty minutes, trains a week or so later and there we were, a country at the end of our fingertips but nowhere to lay our heads at night.

Accommodation always increases the budget, which is why night-time travel on planes and trains is always a great idea. Hotels were extortionate (it was summer) and when you’re staying for no more than two nights it gets even pricier. Then we found a campsite where no camping equipment was required. You turn up, they hand you a tent (with a bed and some sheets) and you pay before you leave. It cost us an average of £8 per night and despite the extremely close proximity to your camping buddies, it was pretty fun.

N.B. I am a somewhat comfortable without household luxuries. I once spent a night in a hut opposite a lake full of alligators and thought it was magical.

Most people I know hate camping, but when you’re on a budget, it’s a question of staying longer in less luxurious conditions, or cutting your adventure short for a nicer place to rest.

The truth is, after a few nights of sleeping in a tent, you start to forget what a house is even like. Any type of brick structure will become a luxury, you stop and stand still at shop entrances when you feel air conditioning hit your body and thunderstorms will become more exciting than ever before. Within time, mosquito’s will even become your friends. I joke, mosquito’s don’t have friends.

So, if you’re contemplating an adventure in a tent, here’s my top tips:
  • Don’t forget flip flops, going bare foot in communal showers is a health hazard.
  • Attach something colourful to the front of your tent, I can imagine it would be slightly awkward if you walked into the wrong one and got into bed with a stranger.
  • In the event of a thunderstorm, pull everything off the floor in an efficient military manner. 
  • Remember if you’re using your phone as a flashlight, to turn it off before you get changed.
  • Take ear plugs, most campers will be young and fun, but they also like a good party.
  • If you ignore all else, remember this. Take copious amounts of mosquito spray and throw it over yourself like confetti. Also take bite cream and anti-histamine (take enough for twice as long as you’ll be gone). Mosquito’s take no prisoners and they like camping too.


Sunday, May 22, 2016

From Cannes to Monaco

I imagined Cannes to be the vibrant and classy city that I see black and white photos of every year during the film festival.

The truth is, in my cousins’ words, ‘I don’t understand the hype.’

Cannes without the film festival is like a jacket potato without butter, inoffensive but not interesting enough to excite your palate. 

The quaint architecture was pretty and the Starbucks located right next to the station certainly earned the place brownie points in my book, but the moment I started wandering I could feel myself itching to get back to Nice.

We grabbed a pizza in a pretty lavish pizza parlour, with babies in Burberry jackets and dogs having their dinner at the table which kept me fairly entertained for a couple of hours.

Most of our time was spent wandering down the harbour and pretending to shop for a new boat… considering the size of some of those yachts it was definitely us living in dreamland.

If you have time to kill and some money to spend, Cannes wouldn’t be a bad shout. Although you could probably find most of the shops in Nice, where there’s more to do and a prettier coastline to take Instagram shots of.

Cannes sadly just didn’t excite me as much as Nice did… Then again, I wouldn’t turn down a ticket to the Cannes Film Festival next year!

Our last stop on the South of France tour was Monaco… oh my dear Monaco! It was love at first sight the second my feet left the train, the country made my face light up and my heart skip a beat. I don’t think I’ve had an instant love like it since I stepped off the train in Venice two years ago.
The city-state was surprisingly tiny, much smaller than I had imagined, but filled with more magic than Dynamo.
I walked out of the station and was immediately surrounded by cliffs either side, passing a small quaint church I was led straight out onto the formula one track. As you can imagine, it was an extremely difficult task to contain my excitement.
The track is free for anybody to walk along, run along and skip along to their hearts content. Cruising alongside the harbour, I was praying for a race to start - the noise must make the mountains rumble.
I walked up the steps to Monaco-Ville, the capital of the country – which is pretty mind-blowing considering I walked the entirety of it in about 20 minutes. The old town is quaint and medieval, like going back in time it wouldn’t have surprised me if horse drawn carts were still being used.
Monaco-Ville is home to the church where Grace Kelly got married, which scarily reminded me of the Vatican (tourists being herded around like cattle), so much so that I lasted 5 minutes before I had to leave. My cousin stayed though and seemed pretty impressed with the place when she came out.
We caught the tail end of the guards changing at the Prince’s Palace, which drew a nicely sized crowd. Before my cousin ran off with a particularly handsome guard, we explored a bit of Monte Carlo and headed back to the station.
I would imagine there is so much more to see and do in Monaco than can be accomplished in a day, but nothing beat the panoramic views from Monaco-Ville.
I would be wholeheartedly content to move there tomorrow, but considering the cheapest place to live is a few million it may take me a while.


Monday, May 09, 2016

Nice | France

The South of France holds a certain allure of luxury travel, partly because the coast is filled to the brim with grand yachts, and also because the only things to occupy your time while there is food, wine and Lous Vuitton. Now I’m not much of a shopper but I definitely have the eating and drinking part perfectly refined.

We stayed in Nice, a few minutes’ walk from the beach, in a local studio apartment with a balcony that hosted an abundance of glorious morning sunshine. We were also blessed with a supermarket on the corner and a patisserie down the street, I highly doubt the location could have been better (minus being on a yacht).

The constant sunshine made the city glow, although the locals were in autumn jackets, it was warm enough for us Londoners to have a beach day.

Despite the lack of sand, the promenade was the hotspot of the city, perfect for people watching and afternoon tanning. Filled with joggers, roller skaters and kids braving the ocean, it was by far my favourite part of Nice.

Wandering through the streets, you can’t help but notice the ever-present Italian vibe (which of course made my heart pang). Small side streets, old quaint houses with windows full of flowers and ice cream parlours on every corner. My only complaint is that you have to watch your step; residents of Nice love to have dogs, much to my delight there were puppies everywhere… but they tend not to pick up after them so you have to constantly be mindful of where you put your feet.
It wasn’t long before we stumbled upon the ‘Oxford Street’ of Nice, at least that’s what the owner of our apartment called it. I’d prefer to call it a pretty decent high street, perfect for last minute jumper shopping when you’re out and it suddenly gets cold. It’s also host to the most incredible ice cream parlour I’ve ever visited (and I’ve travelled Italy). The place goes by the name of Cesar Gelato, it's located opposite H&M on Avenue Jean Medecin, and it's now the proud owner of my highest recommendation (I could spend the rest of my days eating scoops of their house special... pistachio and chocolate!)

Another recommendation would be Restaurant Tchitchou, situated on Avenue Georges Clemenceau. They serve the best Italian food outside of Italy, for a reasonable price, not to mention a decent bottle of Chardonnay and the nicest staff on the planet. We must have asked for the bill three times, and each time we got given another drink instead. Shots on the house will always get a restaurant five stars in my book. You’ll need to book a table in advance, the place is TINY and we grabbed the only unreserved seats at 7pm. It’s also right next to the train station, which makes it the perfect stop if you’re on your way out of town for the evening.
In fact, moving around the city on the whole is simple. As well as moving to and from neighbouring cities. One bus picked us up from outside the airport and dropped us off outside our apartment. Most of Nice is in walking distance and the multiple train stations mean you could pretty much go anywhere in Europe. Not to mention, there is Uber. We made use of the easily accessible transport links during our stay, and checked out as much of southern France as we could in five days…. details to follow. Until then, here’s Nice in photo format:


Sunday, April 10, 2016

Why I got a personal trainer

Knees bent at a right angle, feet turned ever so slightly outwards, thighs burning and sweat pouring down my forehead and into my eyes, causing a painful sting that manic blinking was only making worse.

“Nearly there”... we both knew that was a lie!

It was my first session with Tim and the self-assured cockiness soon wore off when I realised I was nowhere near as fit as I thought I was. I was under no illusions; I needed to get into shape, but I thought I had attained some level of fitness after the last two years of being guided by my gym crazy housemate Lisa. Halfway through my session however, when I thought I’d been burning my backside quite literally off for nearly three hours, I realised a mere 20 minutes had passed. Being carted off to hospital due to a heart attack became a very real fear.

I was staring myself down in the mirror, trying to tell my legs not to give up. “One more set” he calls, leaning in relative comfort against the rail… I was going to die.

The only thing worse than the looming fear of having a heart attack aged 22, was the pain of walking two days later.

As I went to sit up in bed on Friday morning, my stomach muscles stopped working altogether. I tried to pick up my legs in an attempt to wiggle myself out of bed that way, but they wouldn't move either.

Thus I rolled, lying on my stomach for five minutes, before mustering the strength to push myself onto my hands and knees.

The pain was everywhere at once, shooting through my body like I was on fire. With tears strolling down my cheeks I could hear my mind saying “never again”.

I had my second session a week later.

The truth is, as much as I didn't want to put myself through that again, the thought that I couldn’t hack a straightforward weight routine scared the hell out of me. I’m 22, and let’s be honest, more than likely in the peak of my life… meaning I should be fitter now than I’ll ever be… in which case, I definitely need to be fitter.

I hated being tired after walking up four flights of stairs to my Monday morning meeting, my physical strength was so pitiful it was embarrassing. Firm control tights dig into your groin and make walking unbearably uncomfortable, and most importantly, I never, ever, wanted to feel as bad as I felt that Friday morning.

The only way to ensure that, was to let Tim boss me around every week, and damn he is good at it.

Physical training aside for a moment, personal trainers are pretty much glorified therapists (and really cheap ones at that). They listen to you moan about the morning commute and whinge about why you’re not a millionaire, whilst simultaneously throwing death stares at them for making you do burpees. Or maybe that’s just me?

I leave the gym not only with the inability to climb the stairs to Southwark bridge, but also a clear head. It’s not just personal training, it’s therapy, and it really works. A month without during an insanely busy period left me down, lethargic and irritable. I thought the entire world was against me, when really all I needed was to get myself back into the gym.

If you’re in the Southwark area and you fancy getting your butt whipped into shape, hit Tim up. 


Sunday, April 03, 2016

Planning a big trip

China. China. China.

China has been on my mind for what seems like years now. I want so badly to see a Panda, to hold one in my arms, feed him bamboo and name him Peter before daydreaming about how I’ll take him home with me. I must admit to the embarrassing truth that I cheer myself up with Panda videos on YouTube, often welling up at the cuteness overload. There’s something about their black and white fur that leads me to believe they’re really men dressed in suits. It’s unbelievable that something in the world could be that cute - I have to see one with my own eyes to fully believe the magic.

Seeing a panda anywhere other than China is practically cheating so it was only right to start planning an itinerary… one that has been almost four years in the making. Because lets be honest, there is no point travelling all the way to China to see a panda, and not exploring the entire country whilst you’re there.

The sole purpose for such a drawn out planning process was due to two limitations, time and money. Leaving home for three weeks with family members that were poorly and dependable meant our trip was put on hold for a long time. We’ve been given some leeway in that regard, but are still held down by the conventions of annual leave.

The cost of a flight means we need to make the most of the trip there, but the fact that myself and my travel buddy (Mother Tye) both work full time, means we only have 21 days to concur 3.705 million sq miles. I am fully aware of how ambitious I am, but we’ve certainly got a jam-packed 500 hours planned. 

Time is always the problem, no amount of time is ever enough and I know I say it often, but it’s true. Two weeks is not enough to experience a country, the same way 5 days in Paris was nowhere near enough time for me to fully immerse myself in the city. If you want to learn a culture, understand a way of life and fully explore, you need to slow down, wander through and leave when your heart tells you you’ve had enough.

One day, I’ll walk the world with a backpack and do exactly that, but in China, we’re travelling with a stopwatch!

The main goal is simple: cuddle a panda.

But the journey will be so much more; I want to experience the history of such a traditional and deeply cultural country. I may not fully understand some of what China has to offer, but my open-minded wandering soul is going to thrive in the unknown.

There are two points in the year that are best to visit, spring and autumn. We missed spring this year, and fear of having to wait until 2017, means we’re heading to Asia in autumn. The plane touches ground in Shanghai on October 4th and my heart can’t wait.

There was so much I wanted to do and see; the list was endless. I had to prioritise and I would recommend this to anyone who is planning a trip on a leash. Write your list in order of preference. With what your heart desires most at the top, followed by things you can’t miss, with things you’d love to see, with things you wouldn't mind heading to if you had time. Knowing what’s important to you is the first step - and trust me, I spent hours changing my mind… because how can you really know what you want to do until you get there?

The luxury of wandering and not planning is indeed that, a luxury. You may end up with nowhere to sleep or stranded in a country with an out of date visa, but it’s exciting and freeing not to be tied down with set plans. I find planned trips are more stressful, at least in the run up. The sheer amount of planning means in essence there’s much more that could go wrong.

Instead of conquering China solo, we teamed up with Wendy Wu Tours. It’s a pricey investment to go with an operator, the first and last time I did was in 2006. We went on safari in Kenya, with team Kuoni and it was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. You can read about it here. We had a local guide who knew the country like the back of his hand and answered hundreds on my wildly imaginative questions for 12 days straight... he was incredible. That’s what you pay for, a guide to show you around, tell you the best places to eat, drink, see and most of all, the history of the place (particularly the parts you won’t read in the guide books).

I’ve been told a thousand times, most notably at the Adventure Travel Show I was invited to a couple of months ago, that if you’re going to China, Wendy Wu are the best – and I love a solid recommendation. Here’s hoping they’re as good to me as Kuoni were.

It’s almost hard to fathom that an idea we’ve been talking about for so long has materialised into something tangible… before long, you’ll see a video of me holding a panda, in floods of tears with the biggest grin on my face.

Until then, here’s a personal favourite...

Atlas by the incredible Aleksandra Mizielinska and Daniel Mizielinski, you can grab yourself one here


Friday, March 04, 2016

Embarrass yourself... it builds character

Yes, we all as humans have an innate sense of self, because society has trained us to care what other people think.

We should work hard, preferably in a 9 - 5 job, eat healthily and exercise often because gluttony is unattractive. We shouldn’t get drunk because it’s trashy, but invest time in a thematic Instagram feed so it looks like we have more friends, not to mention wear clothes that blend in and filter the words that come out of our mouths so we sound cool and funny but also intelligent.
We must smile often, be kind, and definitely, never, ever... behave foolishly.
The rules are endless and hard to remember. So when I sat next to my new friend (who I’d introduced myself to five minutes prior after an awkward twenty minutes of standing at an event alone), ate six croissants, pulled off my heeled boots because my feet were sore and showed off my Hulk socks. Not to mention teased him for being ‘head office’ and self-important, while divulging how much I loved free food, I probably should have known I was breaking the rules.

This lovely chap turned out to be the CEO of the company whose event I was sat at, and whose food I was shovelling into my mouth.

Awkward? Yes. Very. Sitting in the theatre listening to him address hundreds of people ten minutes after I was sat wiping crumbs off my dress in front of him was painful. I went red, sunk into my seat and prayed for the world to swallow me up.

The second I left the theatre however, the embarrassment was replaced by an abundance of laughter. I mean the simple likeliness of such events made the whole thing quite hilarious. At least I made an impression.

What society fails to tell you, is that self-awareness is for suckers. The truth is, everybody else is so concerned with what they’re doing, nobody is actually taking any notice of you. Take that news as you wish but "letting go", if only for a moment, means you’ll have so much more fun. Yes, it may result in some very awkward moments, but it also creates some hilarious stories for you to divulge to those who read your blog on the morning commute... Hi Mum!

I am certainly someone who cares, I’m often self-conscious about my skin and worry that I said something stupid to people I don’t know very well. Then I remind myself that I don’t owe anyone anything, the only person I owe something to is me, and I owe myself the chance to sing loudly and out of tune even when in company.

When I walk to work with my headphones in I often sing without realising, yes everyone around me can hear what they think is a cat dying, but in my head I’m Beyonce (in her fourth album). I dance in nightclubs the way I dance in my bedroom, I always make conversations with strangers because despite London being inherently anti-social, conversations with strangers are always more interesting than conversations with yourself.

I wear marvel socks to work, I sleep with my mouth open on the train, I say what comes into my head, even if it's stupid and immature, and when I get drunk I turn into a four year old.

Sometimes, when I’ve really let go of my inhibitions, I buy a gift box of chocolates and sit and eat the entire contents on the train home… while wearing my gym gear. Yes I’ll be thinking that everyone around me is judging, but chocolate tastes too good to put away.

So wear the funky dress that you’re worried others will judge you for, because guess what? They’re probably more concerned with what their wearing to notice its bright orange and looks like your grandmother’s curtains.

Besides, nothing builds character like embarrassing yourself.

Me smashing a piƱata on my 18th birthday... a clear demonstration of how to drink responsibly!

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