When your kid wants a rainbow party…

As usual, I’m late posting the birthday theme idea…only two months though, it was four last year. So as you can guess from the title, when I asked me little Mandingo what kind of party he’d like, he said “a rainbow party Mammy” and so my work began. Rainbows, obviously are lots of lovely colours, so I thought the best way to approach it and make it fun would be to have a Rainbow Paint Party in the Park.

With that in mind, I headed to my beloved Ebay and searched “rainbow birthday party invites”, shur you’d be blown away with choice but I went loved these from Sweet Sentiments. It was £3.99 for 12.20170927_010715

Now the cake! The curse-a-God cake! I’ve previously made a Teddy bear cake (sitting up I’ll have you know) , a George Pig themed cake and a Lightning Mcqueen shaped cake, but this! THIS!!! This simple sponge cake was supposed to be easy….it was not…mind this was purely down to the roll out icing which I DO NOT get on with. These are the woes of home made cake making (I lovingly blame my Ma for always baking our cakes and thus I feel I should to the same for my sprogladite).170730075734_wm As always I used a prepackaged cake mix for my cake…less hassle. I baked 6 thin sponges, using 6 different food colourings to create the rainbow inside. Unfortunately though, I wasn’t happy with the colours, they weren’t bright enough for me, but the kids ooohed and aaaahed on seeing it cut up, plus the height of the slices was unreal! 😀 I used jam and buttercream as fillings, alternating between layers. Now lads…now the fun began! I wanted a marbley/ colour splodge looking cake so I rolled out all the colours together as in the pic…. Of course I rolled it too bloody thin and it kept ripping as I lifted it. I tried sitting the cake on the icing and sorta folding the icing up around it….nah….no dice! I got thick then and I new in me heart of hearts that this would happen but I continued anyway….I smushed the icing back together and rolled it out again. Of course…just like when you mix paints, it turned brown!! FML!! I stupidly hoped for the best thinking maybe the underside would be ok and lifted it onto the cake. My son’s rainbow cake was now a swamp thing!!

I sent a pic to my Ma for help. Ma told me to stick some trees and little people on it and it would be grand! THIS…this was after she text my sis to say, say nothing but Donna’s 170730081531_wmmessed up Conor’s cake….in our GROUP chat!! At this point I’d no back up icing left and I’d ruined my son’s birthday so I decided I needed a drink.

After buying nearly £30 pounds (yes, yes I know…) worth of cake resurrection supplies in a, what’s turning into a yearly Sunday morning cake panic dash to Morrisons, a patchy rainbow cake was created. In my eyes it was a bit poo but when the Small Man seen it he was delira and that was enough for me. I got the cool little bunting banner frommmm Ebaaaaay!!!170730081437_wm

In keeping with the rainbow theme, I made my usual fruit pots, consisting of chopped up strawberries, grapes and blueberries. Actually…I’ll just do a list of what we had to eat;

I baked some yummy, smartie rainbow cookies using this recipe from Baking with Granny.

I like to make things a little bit fun for the kids, these chocolate and sprinkle rimmed ice cream cones were based on a Pinterest idea. I stuffed them with jellies and popped them in individual cone shaped bags.

I made some rice crispie squares, which turned pink as I only had a bag of pink and white marshmallows, topped with sprinkles.

Marshmallow pops. Super simple, just large marshmallows, dipped in chocolate and sprinkles, stuck on a lollipop stick.

I always cheat with my buns…I buy prebaked ones and decorate how I like. So as it was a rainbow party, it wouldn’t be complete without some rainbows…hence my Rainbow Cloud cupcakes. Blue icing and rainbow laces…et voila!

I also took along a watermelon, popcorn, onion rings, two trays of sandwiches…..peanut butter, jam and cheese. My friend Elaine gave me a huge tub I filled with ice to keep the fruit shoots and fizzies (for the adults) in. Oh I also brought two mahooosive bottles of water to mix with robinsons.

Food done….now the party bags. I wanted everything rainbow themed. Everything here came from Ebay. I ordered rainbow cellophane bags from here and Thank You stickers from here. I stuck stickers on each bag and on each tube of giant bubbles,  also Ebay. I got some fab rainbow pencils from here and crayons for the younger ones from here. The really cute mini paint trays came from here and those cool pull-out-nib pencils here. Of course there had to be sweets, so each bag had a packet of swizzles, a retro rainbow lolly annnnd Rainbow drops!

Now as the Small Man is a Summer bub, I try to make use of the free parks where I can. It can be a pain in the ass getting everything there, which is why everything I make is fairly handy to transport, and with a little help from friends and family, it works. This year we headed to Kennington Park. I donned my best (£3 from the market) Rainbow party dress and Elaine packed up her car with all me bits and drove me round to set up, under a nice big tree.

I took around all my picnic blankets and asked people to bring one if they had any. I also took round The Monkey’s giant foam tiles to act as a more level “table” running down the middle of the blankets. My SiL, Katie and Chanelle helped me lay out all the food and the little plates and cups, all odd colours from the local 99p store. I tied some balloons from the tree branches so our guests could find us.

Now it wouldn’t be a paint party without paint so I took along pretty much all of my paint supplies and a giant cardboard build and paint your own house, that I’d bought in Lidl aaaages ago and was saving for a rainy day. I also had two rolls of paper in my suitcase of tricks. Katie was good enough to help (and be painted) by the kids whilst myself and Chanelle did some impressive first timer face painting, for anybody who fancied it. I got a nice little Snazaroo set off Ebay for about £13 and it was money well spent. I also took along an inflatable goals and a hoop throwing game that we had at home, and of course the kids had their giant bubble tubes to play with too.

I gotta say this has to be my favourite party we’ve had for the Small Man, the weather was great, it was like a mini festival, just missing the music and it really wasn’t that expensive….apart from the cake situation! I work out the party bags, including the bags and stickers to be just under £4 each, based on 20 kids and I got 24 bubble swords for £15. (Prices correct in July ’17)

Now this may seem mean and given that it’s a big class anyway, I don’t believe in inviting kids he doesn’t play with or mention to his parties but as his birthday fell on a school day, rather than hand out party bags after school, I thought it would be nice to bring something in for the whole class to share together at school. So as we’d just finished reading Handa’s surprise, I took the Small Man shopping and let him pick out his own fruits for his surprise to take to school for his birthday….hence Small Man’s Surprise!20170927_011014

I hope you enjoyed this post and got some inspiration from it. I know we’re coming into the winter months now but it maybe possible to adapt some of the “festival vibe” to an indoor set up. Don’t be shy, do comment and share your own party ideas…it’s good to share.

Thanks to everyone who helped me on the day especially the Hubbalump…God love him and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as we did.

Love,

Donna x

 

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Babe (babe), I’m back again…

I haven’t written anything here in two months! Did ya miss me?? But two months!!! Shocking! Why? Well to start with, writing a blog is harder than you’d imagine.

It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, there’s always something to say, but sometimes it just doesn’t warrant writing a blog post as it’s only something short….hence I’ll post it on my Instagram or Facebook page. Finding time is sometimes an issue too. A blog post can take you only a few minutes to read, but by the time I’ve written, considered, rewritten, spellchecked and added pictures, two or even three hours have gone by. Those hours equate to a lot of time out of my day really. Also I write mine on my laptop, I’ve no patience for writing it on a tiny phone screen but I know lots of bloggers do and therefore blog on the go. Believe it or not, despite liking to actually write and having the equivalent amount of notebooks as Paperchase’s stockroom, I’m still poo at writing a good idea down for later or even making notes in my phone…..Bye, bye ideas!

My blog as you can see, is not focused on anything in particular, which I guess might inhibit me a bit, as I don’t have a focus. I don’t really need to keep up with the newest beauty or fashion trends. I’m also woeful at following the news so politics and current affairs are also out. That said though, not having a focus means I can write whatever the hell I like….wooooooo!! Roll on the randomness and tat!

I guess like all bloggers, I get a little dissuaded sometimes from lack of support. I enjoy writing anyway, and hope one day to write a book so committing to a blog forces me to Screenshot_20170907-224118write stuff  down rather than say I will. So although I write because I like it, the likes, the shares and comments make all the difference. If I see you’ve shared my post or better still you’ve commented, then I feel like you’ve read it and you’ve enjoyed it (or not) and that inspires me to not give up. The lack of interaction can be discouraging sometimes but I guess if you really want to do something you plough on in hope. The likes themselves are good too, but I always wonder….did you just see I posted, and liked it for the craic or ‘cos you know me…did you actually read it? I’m also still very shy about telling people I write a blog. When my work colleague mentions it to people I always feel a bit of a sack really. I guess I still feel like it’s not interesting or glam or current enough to disclose it for fear I run into somebody who’s been doing it for years or has some supersize megablog that all the world knows about. So yeah…I’m not great at pluggin’ it!

So what do I want to achieve with this blog of mine? Well, I want lots of people, not just family and friends, to read it and give their opinions on what they’ve read or seen. I want people to interact, connect and enjoy what I’ve written and how I’ve written it. I guess I want my blog to be one of the few things I’ve started, stuck with and not given up on. Ideally, just like my “personalphotographerintraininglongsuffering” hubby, I’d like my blog to grow old with me (aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw) unless I sign a major book deal and reach Stephen King-like status, in which case I might be too busy to keep up with it all. Dream big people, DREAM BIG!!

So dear readers, if you like what you read, if you’ve laughed at my “skit” pics over on Instagram and Facebook; if I’ve brightened your day, made you smile or inspired you to do something, make something or read something, please tell me and tell others too.

Sharing is caring,

much love

Donna xx

 

 

London. Sad & scared.

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I’m washing up, there are a lot of sirens tonight…….At 10.57 my sister in law text me to ask where I was. I said I was home, why? They had been watching the news at home and London Bridge had been closed off. I turned on BBC News…..

I feel sick, I feel sad and scared. I’ve never felt this way about previous terror attacks. I mean of course, I’ve felt sad and worried but I cried. I cried for London like I did for Manchester. I didn’t know anyone directly affected by the Manchester attack, but I cried. I don’t know if it hurt more because it was mainly kids and young people that were at the concert, and now I have my own kid and that, although we don’t go to concerts yet, we do sometimes make our way to places that could be considered more of a target than others. Jeez, a coupla weeks before my friend and her daughter were at an Ed Sheeran concert back home…..it could have been them.

My hubby is currently at work at Waterloo, a mainline station. With Eurostar access. A tube station. Sitting on Southbank. In the shadow of the London Eye. Tourist central. Add to that it’s almost on top of St. Thomas’ Hospital and the Houses of Parliament, shur you might as well paint a big fat red X on the area! I’ve rang him, he’s ok. The station is getting busier as people are coming in trying to find alternative routes home. He says there are police all over the place and they have been told to be extra vigilant. I’d like him to be at home now, vigilant means feck all when a loon with a death wish wants to take out every average Joe around him. At this moment I don’t want him at Waterloo, I don’t want us in London, I want to go home.

My little boy is tucked up in bed, I’ve just gone up to check on him and give him kisses ‘cos I can. He woke up and asked me if it was time to get up. No baby, it’s not. Little does he know that I’ve just watched families with little kids like him be evacuated from their homes, for fear of harm or death. Why should he know, he’s only four. Why in this modern, multicultural, first world, ” super-power” (although I think that too may fade in the coming months….aah politics!) of a country should he have to live in fear? (Yes…before anybody goes on a rant about the terror in the rest of the world, I fully agree no person anywhere should have to live in fear). I look at his beautiful little face now and hope it stays beautiful and happy despite the bad things happening. I hope the world doesn’t harden it and make it cruel.

We have a 1st birthday to go to tomorrow, a day to celebrate and enjoy a little boy growing up. Of course there will be lots of other little boys and girls there, and lots of parents and minders anticipating their futures, but the world is becoming a scary place, England….London is a scary place. Terror threats and terrorist acts are becoming more frequent. Children as young as 13 carry weapons and some use them! I fear for my son’s future. This may seem harsh but at moments like this I sometimes question whether it would be fair to bring another child into a world like this. This is my thought and it shocks even myself.

What is happening? Where is the madness coming from? Why is there so much hate? Who in the name of any God, thinks it’s a good idea or thinks their God promotes going out and destroying lives? The lives of people you don’t even know!! Why was our terror threat level dropped ? Would it have made any difference? The worse thing about this is, when it has all been investigated, we’ll be told that at least one if not all of these attackers were “known” to the police or are on “The Watch List”.  I think it’s absolutely ridiculous that we have to wait for these people to do the damage before any action can be taken. Clearly if they are being watched it’s for a reason! There is already evidence against them, surely? I don’t want to live in fear and I don’t want to get used to living with the threat of terror. I feel like maybe we’re trying to be to p.c about everything and that the police aren’t given the power they need to carry out the work that needs to be done due to this. This country, this city is broken. Ugh! I dunno lads…I’m not saying instill some kinda marshall law but jeezus, the paper shuffling and the watching needs to stop!

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With that little rant over, I’ll leave you with the thoughts of many people tonight, a thought I’ll be trying to instill into my boy, that despite the 2 or 4 attackers trying to bring us down tonight, for every one of them there are 10 or 20 people willing or trying to help.

I hope you and yours are safe tonight,

Love Donna x

Interview with a Monkey

I was reading a magazine today and the little Mandingo wanted to know what it was about. I told him I was reading an interview, what’s that says he. It’s when people ask you lots of questions and they answer them. Oh.

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So for the craic, I decided to ask him the questions from the mag, in Small Man speak of course to see what he’d say…

Who is your best friend? Suha and Albi. Normally it’s me (sob) or his cousin Millie. Apparently Suha is also his girlfriend!

What’s your biggest regret (thing you’re sad that you did or didn’t do)? A little poo. This is probably very true as this kid delights in doing old man style poos, there’s even requests for head squeezing.

What’s your biggest extravagance (thing that you love to do)? A bubble bath. Ahh the simple things, sadly we only have a shower so his baths consist of sitting in a container that fits the bottom of our shower but he’s nearly outgrown.

What’s your type (what kind of people do you like)? Sweet contests and happy people.

When did you last lose your temper (when were you last angry)? When Z slaps me and doesn’t say sorry and Daddy bugs me. What did you do to Z? Noffink! Hmm…. Totally get the Daddy bugging him thing though.

Who owes you an apology (who needs to say sorry to you)? A, ‘cos she keeps standing on me. (I need to keep an eye on these little women folk maybe…..)

Who or what would go in your room 101 (in the bin)? The skins of the orange. We had just peeled an orange.

Tell us a secret…. Monkeys poo! Well everybody knows that, tell me another? Bulldozers!

What’s the biggest misconception about you (what do people not know about you)? The fighting. Eh? What do you mean? I’m a superhero. Ohh ok cool, are you good or bad? I’m a good superhero.

Who do you miss most? Mammy. (Aaaaaaah) . Why? Because I love you. (Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!)

What is your biggest life lesson so far (what have you learned so far in life)? The seagulls flying at the beach. What does that mean? The sea! (Maybe it has some in depth meaning?)

Ok sausage, thanks so much for your interview today. You’re welcome Mammy.

Haa the simpleness of a child’s answers eh? It was quite amusing, I might do it every so often just to see how much they change. Try it with your littles and let me know how it goes.

Have fun….

Donna xx

Happiness in a flower

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I meant to write this post a month ago, when I seen those green shoots starting to poke their heads out, sniffing at Spring, so I better write it now before it’s not relevant. I think daffodils have to be one of my most favourite flowers. They remind me of happy things. I mean look at them, on a cold, dreary wintery morning, they are a little flash of sunshine, a little beacon of light on a dull day. I promise you when I see them, even when I’m in a foul mood, they give me that little ping of “YAY!”, even if it is only for a second (on a particular rotten day like) and I always think of Wordsworth’s poem…

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

They remind me of my Grandad, who had them and tulips all over his gardens. Even when the 14520513_10208717576710970_5972241006798313006_ngarden was reduced back to become part of the cow’s field, the daffodils left behind still shot up, hardy and strong every year. I loved my Grandad to bits and pieces, I loved his gardens and so I love daffodils for reminding me of him.

Most of all though, daffodils remind me of my first hard working, big girl job. I’m talking money in an envelope, into your hand at the end of the week….woooo!! I remember seeing a flyer pinned up in Killeen’s shop, daffodil pickers wanted! Daffodil pickers! Bejayzus! Just up the road in Croghan too, over the Easter holiday. I thought, how hard can it be… I’ll mention it to Ash.

God it was two or three of the best weeks I’ve ever had. We thought we were the bees knees…proper working folk at 14/15.  Every night I’d get me packed lunch ready and make sure I had a supply of plastic bags for the day my wellies finally gave in and got a leak. Every morning I’d be up at 7, like a real manin (pronounced man-een…I can’t for the life of me figure out where the i with a fada is on this yoke!) horse the porridge down and cycle up to Ash’s to meet her. We’d cycle up to Croghan and down behind the football pitch where fields of daffodils were waiting to be picked. Frank was our “boss”, a fairly gruff dude from Daingean, he gave us a run through of how to pick a daff. Em yep, you can’t just pick any old daffodil, there were requirements to be met…these babies were shipping to Engerlish supermarkets for selling ya know!

We’d spend probably from 8 til 11, when you’d have a tea break, if you were lucky enough to have a flask, bent over lonnnnng drills, seeking out unbloomed daffodils, at least 25cms long, to pick and bunch into groups of 10 and then stack in your crate. We got 25p a bunch…£25 a crate. This may well have been some kinda slave-like type labour and in fairness conditions were fairly poor compared to the luxuries pickers have today….wellies, wetsuits and sleeeeves provided!!! On site toilets!!! Pfffft!! If you were a girl picker you’d to take your friend with you to find decent bush to hide behind and watch out for the lads perving, and God help any of us if we needed a poo!! Still we had great craic. At about 12.30, we’d all quit for lunch and head to the beaten down old hayshed for a bitta warmth. I say warmth, but generally it would still freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Some laugh then lads, sandwich swapping, how many crates have you filled, who’s shifting who, where’s them two snuck off to, truth or dare and the odd ruck. Frank might even crack a smile during this time.

It was hard work, mostly being bent over all day and with wearing gloves being a hinderance,  you tended not to wear them and ended up with numb, battered fingers due to the cold and thorns or nettles (depending on how near the hedges your drills were). That, was the hardest work, ‘cos you get good at picking the ‘dils. Ash, myself, Darren and Mike got so good, Frank selected us for picking elsewhere…..ooooooh! We’d meet in Rhode at 6.30 and a bus would pick us up and take us off to the far side of Rathangan for the day. One day, a lorry picked us up! Yep, a lorry! I’m talking a 7.5 tonne tarp covered lorry. The four of us were loaded up into the back of it, no windows and only crates to slide around on…no seatbelts here lads…and driven off to God knows where (turned out to be the far side of Tullamore). Frank and his son would already be there, so we’d stick together and every evening, he’d drive us back to Rhode, with a pitstop at his house for tea, cakebread and a fry up. Those were my favourite nights.

It’s funny isn’t it….some mornings not knowing where you were heading, travelling round in the back of a lorry, not getting home til between 5 and 8 in the evening….all this without a seatbelt or a phone! (It’s also crazy thinking on our parents parts too…like trust us to do all this but try and get them to let you to the bouncered up Harriers at the weekend…forgit aboud it!) Our parents never knew sometimes, where we were or who we were with,yet trusted we’d stay alive and safe for a day. Seems nuts now. I wonder will my Monkey ever experience anything like this? Sadly the world is a crazier place now, I think.

What’s your favourite flower and why?

God, Spring would be woeful sad without daffodils.

Donna xx

The thoughts of a “wunner”

It’s 6.45 and my alarm is going off. I didn’t go to bed ’til 1.20. I press snooze. It’s 6.50, the alarm’s going again. I press snooze. Ugh! Why am I doing this? Do I really need to get up? It’s 6.55, my alarm is going off, I press dismiss and reluctantly drag my ass outta the leaba (bed for anybody not from the Motherland).

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I’m halfway through week 3 of a Couch to 5K app, I’ve done the hard part this morning…I got outta bed. I feel a bit like Rocky now. I’m up, I’m at ’em. I’ve done me stretching…let’s do this sh*t!

So this week, it’s a 28 minute workout, alternating between jogging for 90secs, brisk walking for 90secs, jogging for 3mins and brisk walking for 3mins, with a 5min warm up and cool down either end….

20170322_000447First 90secs: Wooo! Yeah! Feeling pretty fly for a white girl! Eh? What’s that? Stop running already? Sure I am Usain Bolt lads.

Walkie, walkie…walking briskly…of course.

First 3mins: Phew…starts ok. Ugh..is 3 minutes really this long? Ok! Fine! Fine! Just get on with it Don. Pant! Pant! Hmm…what will I have for breakfast? God, normally I wouldn’t even be up now. Pffft! Puff! Pant! Wheez! Jeezus! Have I any clothes ironed for work? Oh Lord, has Monkey a clean jumper? Why has this one not said stop running yet?

Ding!! AT LASSST! Walk time. Oh my God! Really, why am I doing this? Pant! Pant! Wheez! Jayzus will I ever catch me breath? Like really the only reason I have to run is if I’m chased by a machete wielding clown, or if anybody is crazy enough to hurt my baby…then you better run like Satan and his hounds are on your tail! This is unreal. How am I so unfit? Oh Lord, I still have another 3min run to do! FML!

Second 90secs: Bah! Here I go again…ah this one’s only 90secs…piece a p**s. Phew, still a bit panty after that last one though. Power through Don, power through.20170322_000513

Is that it? That seemed short….the monster is looming though. I still haven’t fully recovered from the last three min sesh. I’d safely say I look like a plum tomato, masquerading as lithe leek. The panting and puffing though ….agh God…embarrassing!

Second 3mins: FML!!! I can’t do this! I CAN’T DO THIS! I’m puffing like an extremely old, on it’s way out steam engine, on the verge of combusting. Oh my God, people can probably hear me coming before they see me, this is woeful. No Don, cop on, everybody starts somewhere, plus they don’t know you haven’t already been running a straight 6miles. True, true, I got this. Oh my God, I don’t got this, my heart is going to leap outta me chest any time now, just like the Alien embryo burst through John Hurt’s chest. Like seriously, I’ve been running for a lot longer than 3mins now. Nope! Can’t do it, I’m quitting, if I can’t do this I’ll never get through week 4. Do or do not, there is no try…thanks Yoda. Ok I can do it. I can’t back out now anyway, I’ve posted on social media. FFS! Why did I do that? Lord divine Jayzus, is it STILL NOT 3 F**KING MINUTES!!! G’wan Don, stick with it, at least you’re at it, it get’s easier. Perseverance is key.You’re right Glenn, ok. I got this.Oh my God, I think I’m gonna puke. I think I may stop. Never had you down as a quitter Don? If you want it bad enough you’ll do it. True say Steve, I’m not quitting. 20170322_000533

BEEEEEP! OH THANK THE F**KING GODS!!! Brisk walk, brisk walk…wheeeze….wheeezey…pant pant puff! Keep up the walking Don, don’t collapse just yet. I did it, I did it! Ugh, my back is wet…ooooh…musta done something right. Ugh…sweaty bum! Not sexy! Who cares….I made it, it’s over! I’m getting better…wooooo….watch out Bolt!

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This is the app I use. There are loads you can follow though.

Just so ye know, this is not a sponsored post guys. Let me know if ye decide to give a Couch to 5K a go and how ye get on. You can follow my progress over on Instagram @TotallyDonnaMarie1

xx

Gold trousers do not a mid-life crisis make!

For a second my sparkle dimmed, it was like I’d been kicked in the stomach. Somebody had just tried to steal my sunshine, my glittery-ness, my sparkle. Yeah MY SPARKLE!!

Worse thing is, the thief was an unexpected source and so, disappointing. Maybe said thief was having a bad day, but that’s not my beef, don’t take it out on me.

So the sparkle stealing began with a pair of gorgeous gold trousers that I’d seen on the Collectif website. Miss Deadly Red is modelling them and she looks HAWT!!! Now I’m not a total eegit and will tell you, I will by no means look as hot but they’re gold and shiny and I love them, but I don’t buy them. I do however mention them to others as I’d seen another pair in H&M that were completely covered in gold sequins. Sparkle overload lads!170306113743_wm Anywho…a week or so passes and I walk in on a conversation about my love of these gold trousers and Sparkle Stealer or SS for short pipes up, “Gold trousers?And what’s with all these pouty pout photos on Facebook? Are you having a midlife crisis?” Defence was offered on my behalf with “oh it’s for her make up that she does”. Taken aback by the suggestion of a midlife crisis, I said no, I’m just doing what I wanna do, I haven’t murdered anyone. (Well not yet!) Then, THEN!!!! SS asks how old I am!! By jayzus!! I’m tryna be cool like, cos I was getting more annoyed with conversation and what the hell my clothes or pouting had to do with SS. I didn’t realise pursed lips and the possible sight of me in gold trousers was so upsetting. I proudly tell SS I’ll be thirty four in two weeks and ask why this is relevant, you only live once and I’m not hurting anyone.Now you know in your mind you can see yourself f**king s**t up…..SS says “yeah you might do, but it’s acceptable at sixteen not at thirty four.” “Well I like what I like and I don’t particularly care whether anyone else does”.

SS isn’t even on Facebook lads! How is so much known about my pouty pics? Well nosing through somebody else’s profile of course. Hmm and if reconnaissance was done properly, I’m sure they’d notice in most of my pics, I look like a haggard little boy, so by God when I do slick on the lippy and straighten me wig, I’ll post it on every type of social media I have access to! Ironically SS is a fair bit older than me, yet has one or two hobbies which might be deemed as “childish” themselves. I swear to God, the cheek!170307121209_wm

Anyway, as I said, my Sparkly tiara nearly fell off me head and this 10 minute conversation stuck with me. I don’t know why, as most times unless it’s a really brutal, cutting remark, it will have faded from my mind fairly quick. Maybe it was the unexpected source of the dig? So I turned to the person who’s known me all my life…The Mammy. I asked her what sort of  a person I was growing up, was I always a little bit “woooo”? (I’m not super eccentric or anything, but I do love dressing up, whether it’s for a laugh or a glam night out and I try to make it a little different or mine I suppose). Ma said “you’re just the same, funny, friendly and kind. It’s just your nature, you’re like me in a way but more out going. Why?”. I wanted to find out if I’d changed drastically, I wanted to find out if I WAS having a “mid-life crisis”. I mean it can’t be a mid-life crisis if I’ve always been the same eh? So I told her about SS. I told Ma, that for a brief moment SS made me worry if people see me as an idiot but funnily enough, at the same time I didn’t care. (If I like what I’m wearing and it raises a smile from you, whether you’re smiling with me or laughing at me, I’m ok with that…who else made you smile today?) These are my Mother’s wise words;

“Jealousy is a bad thing Donna, and that’s what’s wrong. You’re doing what you want to do and they’re* afraid. They* live boring lives and are stuck in their* ways. You could slap it to them* over their “childish” hobbies but that’s not you. You’re still young, wear what you want and you always look brilliant. I hope you never change.”

With that, I righted my crown and scolded myself for doubting my confidence.

I bought the gold trousers.

Ain’t nobody stealing my sparkle!

Love Donna

PS I always say, that somebody who can’t say anything nice to you especially about how you look, and when you clearly look great, is a jealous creature. Jealous people only try to cut you down.

PPS You too can own a pair of said gold trousers annnnd they’re on sale!! WOOOO!!