Biting the Bullet.

Excuse the pun but I have finally bitten the bullet and set up another blog! Those who know me well, know that I love fashion.
Criticised in my early twenties for it (by family of course, who else?) it lost it’s significance and was put on the back burner. Then, after my dramatic weight loss in 2007, it happily returned to my life and I embraced it, confidently showcasing a style I had hidden for so long. Sadly, due to the weight gain of recent years, my love of looking good has long gone.
I want it back.
I want to feel confident again and look at myself without hate.
I want the BDD to fade away.
I should not have to justify my love of fashion.
If I could choose any style I would probably pick tailored androgyny. I’m pretty sure anyone who knows me wouldn’t have expected that! Other than David, my husband, he knows my love for fitted and tailored co-ordinates. If I could be a stylist, hands down, I’d style men. I also loving monochrome. Black and white looking sharp and crisp. Perhaps with a flash of metallics peeking through. Heels are a must for this look, it shouldn’t be manly. Lipstick wouldn’t go amiss either.

This side of me is well documented by my husband, who in recent years has become my source of channelling my love of fashion. As I remain hesitant with myself, with him it is different. I feel confident to pick out pieces and style him. I know of late, that his colleagues have commented on his great dress sense. He graciously told them he had nothing to do with it and that his wife is the one with the style!
Bless him.
Shoes are my favourite. No surprise there then but with the baby on it’s way, expenses will be severely reigned in. I may even put a few items up for sale!
I hope to have the new blog up and running by the end of the summer and although it is very different to this one, I hope that my followers will continue their everlasting support and take a look. It may not be your thing, but we all need little moments of happiness.
Whatever they may be.

Eye Opener.

A dusting of black

A want to cover you

extend my long arm



gentle strokes of darkness

open your eyes

wide and bright

lets illuminate your face

and draw people in



enchanting with feathered flutters

I entangle and separate

unravel each strand



blackened fibres brush

through delicate hairs

almonds enlarged



Google Images

Body Dysmorphic Disorder.

I have to be honest, I lack knowledge in this subject and would never have classed myself as suffering from it. Well, not until recently. Within the last two years, due a significant weight gain (related to stress), I have been feeling extremely low about the way I look, anxious even. Walking past a mirror or reflective surface only panics me. It instantly disgusts me.

I am regularly told “it’s all in your head” or scolded for being self-absorbed. Others compliment me, attempting to reassure my fault-finding. I’ve had people drop casual comments that I should start dieting then I might feel better. In actuality that makes me feel a thousand times worse when all I do is diet then binge and diet then binge. Any sign of stress sends me into this destructive path.

I have read other bloggers talk about BDD but would never admit that I too suffer from many of the symptoms. I am scared that friends, family and acquaintances will judge me; that they will think I am attention seeking or fishing for compliments. It’s not that I need to hear I’m beautiful, I just cannot stand the way I look. When I see myself in the mirror I feel sick. I see a stranger staring back at me.

In the explanation for BDD on the NHS website, they say that sufferers regularly find fault in their bodies especially the facial area. I hate my face. I hate it. I think it’s vile. I hate my unsymmetrical face. I hate my twisted nose, my teeth, my double chin. I feel disgusting every day. That’s not to say that I love everything else about myself – I don’t.

I love fashion. I try to make it work but the confident days are ruined when I accidentally see my reflection in a shop window. What seemed like a good choice in the morning becomes a bad decision; one that I berate myself for making for the rest of the day. A decision that leaves me feeling self conscious and extremely aware of how awful I look.

I do not dare say this out loud and am currently too frightened to seek professional help. I feel as though I may be laughed at. After all, people see me as I want them to see me: confident and self-assured.

Unfortunately, that’s not the case.