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23 unspoken promises behind every great female friendship

05/06/2016 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

20151112_1429231.That neither of us will ever say “I really shouldn’t” when the dessert menu comes and let that stop us ordering something.

2. That you’ll never mention it when I show up in a piece of clothing that clearly should have been ironed. I know it, you know it, but I just couldn’t be arsed, OK?

3. That wherever we are and whatever we’re doing, cake will always be an appropriate snack.

4. That if one of us fails to get the job or the boyfriend or the house that we wanted, the other will provide the required dose of IT’S THEIR LOSS ANYWAY, BABE, YOU CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER to restore our faith in humanity.

5. That whatever it is, you can tell me.

6. That you’ll smile and nod when I start talking about the level to which it is currently KICKING OFF in Coronation Street [or enter your own televisual favourite here] – despite not watching, caring, or wishing to hear a single detail more about it.

7. That if there is something on my face that shouldn’t be there, you will tell me STRAIGHT AWAY.

8. That I will always let you finish having a well-earned moan before I start to explain why things really aren’t that bad.

9. That if I’m being a dick, you’ll let me know. And that I’ll have the courage to do the same.

10. That when you ask me how ‘following my dreams’ is going, you’re prepared for a long and emotional response.

11. That when I cry at your wedding/birthday party/leaving do, you’ll be kind enough to lie and say that nobody noticed.

12. That we’ll run all photographic evidence of a night out that involved dancing passed each other before uploading it to social media.

13. That we can discuss the highs and lows of having bodies, bowels and brains without embarrassment. There’s no room for shame between friends.

14. That I may not have the required skirt, hair, or ability to kick my legs more than two inches above the ground, but I will be your cheerleader for life.

15. That ‘because I was planning to spend today doing absolutely nothing’ is a perfectly reasonable response to the suggestion of a get together. Everybody needs their space.

16. That I won’t let you walk around with food all over your top. I can’t promise I’ll always have a replacement on me, but I will dab the hell out of that stain like any good friend should.

17. That we won’t feel the need to beat each other around the head with our mistakes – but just to slowly place them under the other person’s eyes if it looks like they might accidentally start walking down that road again.

18. That a ‘What are you wearing tonight?’ text message sent ahead of an evening out will always receive a thorough response to ease the nerves of the woman who sent it (who is no doubt currently on her knees in front of her wardrobe and claiming she has so few clothes that she may as well just cut three holes in a bin bag and wear that etc.).

19. That we’ll both just pretend not to notice what happens to our hair in hot weather.

20. That you understand that when I buy a bag of Percy Pigs, it’s because I want to eat every single one of them. Best get your own packet, yeah?

21. That if you choose to spend your life with someone, I will not let you settle for anything less than the superhero you deserve.

22. That we’ll put the necessary effort in to making sure we’re still friends when we’re old and grey.

23. And that you’ll be kind enough not to mention that I am already both of those things.

 

Posted in: ON FRIENDSHIP Tagged: dancing, embarrassment, friends, friendship, growing up, promises, women

A love letter to all the sweaty girls: You are not alone

24/01/2016 by Charlotte 1 Comment

Tray chicThere are so many things that women are conditioned to think they’re not supposed to do. Sweating is one of them. Going to the toilet is another.

And it’s so strange because both definitely happen every single day.

As a woman who has always suffered from the charmingly named condition EXCESSIVE SWEATING I can confirm that this belief is particularly unhelpful.

There are people who say that men sweat and women perspire. Well, you can call it what you like, but it’s the same thing. It’s as basic as coughing or sneezing or yawning so loudly that you sound like Chewbacca. We all do it.

Yesterday, whilst out dancing at a friend’s birthday party, I was reminded of my true sweating credentials. I moved seamlessly from looking like a person who’d put a good couple of hours into straightening her hair, applying liquid eyeliner, and colouring in her lips with a pencil, to a shiny-faced mad woman who appeared to have just done 20 lengths in the swimming pool, and no amount of hand fanning, forehead dabbing or sticking my face out of a window could stop it. I mean, everybody was hot but this was ridiculous. If only I’d been flexible enough to slot myself into the Dyson hand dryer in the bathroom, I would have done it.

I first discovered that I had this issue when I was a teenager. As if growing up wasn’t already hard enough – boy troubles, friend fall-outs, and a permanent fear that I was going to be called a weirdo was already keeping me busy enough – but then I had this little treat thrown into the mix. Thanks very much, genetics.

It didn’t even have to be hot. I just had to be awake. Of course, heat made it worse, but for the real sweaters among us, Winter is no holiday. If anything it’s worse because nobody expects to see somebody mopping their brow when it’s minus one outside.

I became super strategic in my clothes buying. I knew what types of colours and materials were most likely to show patches, and which could shield a day’s worth of salt loss. I didn’t have much money at the time – because who does at that age – so I kept a small number of tops on rotation that shielded me from being outed as the sweatiest girl in town.

And then one day I heard my dad talking about a special type of deodorant that can help people who sweat too much. I’d never told anybody about my problem before – I just assumed I’d have to live with it forever and hope that eventually I’d grow out of it – so I was ecstatic to hear that maybe there was a way out.

I booked an appointment with my doctor and had to stop myself from crying when I asked him to please prescribe it for me. I was 16 and awkward and desperate to feel normal. It was going to take a lot more than a sweat gland annihilating roll-on to do that but it was a bloody good start.

And ever since then, things have been better because I’ve had some control. Like so many situations, knowing that there’s something you can do about it is everything. Of course, it doesn’t mean I’m cured, it’s just much more manageable. Now it only really kicks in when it’s actually hot, which helps.

Thankfully it doesn’t really affect my self-esteem too much these days. And I have a critical moment that happened in February 2006 to thank.

Leon and I had only been together a few months and we went to see The Arctic Monkeys play in Leeds. This was prime Monkeys time – we were at university in Sheffield and the whole city had gone mad for them.

We went to the front and jumped around and it remains to this day some of the most fun I’ve ever had. When they went off stage I realised my entire head, back, and chest was soaked, my hair was like wet string, and my eye make-up was a distant memory. I looked at Leon and said:

“Sorry, I must look disgusting.”

And he shook his head and said:

“No you don’t – you just look like you’ve had a really good time.”

And ever since, I’ve held onto that answer.

I know that if I go out and let my hair down, I’ll end up looking like I’ve been left out in the rain. I know that dancing for five minutes does to me what 45 minutes on a treadmill does to other people. When I look in the mirror I do feel pretty alarmed – I mean, that level of perspiration does nothing for a heavy fringe; if I went out partying more frequently I might need to reconsider my hair style – but at least it shows I’ve had a good time.

I’m not writing any of this down to gross you out, though I guess there’s a chance it might have that effect. I’m writing it down because this is the internet and those of us who have learnt to deal with the little surprises that life throws our way have a duty to talk about them so that others know that they’re not alone.

I think things have moved on quite a long way since I was young. The This Girl Can campaign has done us the world of good. Hey, guess what, women exercise and when they do it, they look like everybody does when they exert themselves – hot and a bit red in the face – and nobody cares.

We could spend our lives being worried that we might accidentally be revealed as having been human beings all along. That we’re not all that different after all. That our bodies need to do things to keep us alive.

But that feels like a terrible waste of time. For every moment that we’re doing that, we could be dancing to Beyoncé or Taylor Swift. Or The Arctic Monkeys.

I can’t imagine they’d let a bit of sweat get in their way.

Posted in: ON CONFIDENCE Tagged: being a woman, confidence, dancing, embarrassment, exercise, fringe, going out, growing up, perspiration, sweating

Nights out in your 30s: Preparation is everything

19/07/2015 by Charlotte 2 Comments

Shell we dance?

As I lay awake after the first big night out I’ve had which wasn’t at a wedding for the past approx. five years – feet burning, ears ringing, room doing an unhelpful spin – I wondered how on earth I used to do this every night. Because there was a time when that happened. I won’t be too specific but let’s just say MSN messenger was a BIG DEAL back then.

Yesterday’s frivolities brought my 30th birthday celebrations to a close in the best way possible – with drinking and dancing and hanging out with the kind of friends that you want to stand on a stool in front of and declare “I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU” until you realise that’s a bad idea as your ability to remain balanced even when you haven’t drunk anything is limited. Best to just text them all afterwards instead.

But aside from other people’s nuptials and birthday parties, big nights of boozing and shape-throwing just don’t happen so much any more. And for that reason, when they do come around, I have to spend a few days getting myself physically and mentally prepared for it. For example, this week I:

– didn’t go out on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday evening in the interests of storing up as much energy as possible for last night (much like a hamster loading up its cheeks with nuts or bits of carrot, except I just stocked up on sofa time, Orange is the New Black and sweets).

– considered my pre-party diet very carefully. I had to make sure I ate enough so that I wouldn’t get drunk at the first whiff of alcohol, but not so much that I’d need to lie down in the corner of the bar mid-party and have a nap – OR look so bloated that everyone would think they were at a baby shower instead of a 30th. A very tough balance to strike.

Lucky

– added an extra half an hour to my getting ready time so that I could put on liquid eyeliner. Sure, it looks nice but my main reason for choosing it is because once it’s on, it doesn’t move, whereas after a couple of hours in eye shadow, it’s not so much that I look like I’ve been punched, more like someone has slapped me in the face incredibly slowly, dragging every grain of colour across my eyes.

– decided to wear jeans with a very comfortable waistband. I was going to wear a dress that is very tight around the middle but I shunned it in the interests of being able to breathe – something that matters to be more and more as I get older.

– selected a pair of heels with a very strong strap to avoid stepping out of them and breaking my ankle mid over-enthusiastic dance move (FYI all of my moves fall into this category – if you’re going to go out, you might as well get an entire year’s worth of exercise done in one evening, in my opinion). Of course such a shoe doesn’t necessarily save you from a tumble but my rule is: if I’m going down, my shoes are coming with me.

I didn’t used to need all this preparation – I remember being at university and not even deciding whether to go out until 11pm whereas if you suggested that to me now I’d… well, I wouldn’t hear you because I’d be asleep.

But the good thing is that the less frequently that something lovely happens, the more you appreciate it when it does. Celebrating with friends, drinking cocktails filled with raspberries and lemon (oh and gin, loads of gin), and struggling to go to sleep because your feet are throbbing so hard from all the jiving that they’re just not used to, doesn’t happen every day (and for that my toes will always be grateful) so we have to make the most of it when it does.

I’m already looking forward to next time, whenever that should come around, just as long as I have plenty of warning. In the mean time, I’ll be sat safely on my sofa, nursing my poor feet back to their former glory and preparing them for their next expedition outside.

If my current state of exhaustion is anything to go by, I fear I may be 40 before I’m ready for that to happen.

Posted in: ON FRIENDSHIP Tagged: age, birthday, celebrations, dancing, going out, growing up, party, turning 30, university

Will it be cold there? Will I get a seat? And other things grown-ups think about

08/06/2014 by Charlotte 4 Comments

hand-gelYour brain changes as you get older.

You think more about the weather, the next time you’ll get to sit down and how much washing you need to get done, and less about about parties and hair glitter and whether you’re ready to take the dance routine you made up to Picture Of You by Boyzone to a wider audience.

And I guess it’s inevitable now that we’re responsible for more than just our social life and our cassette collection – there are bills to pay and gardens to weed and conversations about the benefits of online grocery shopping that just have to be had.

And this change of focus affects pretty much everything – our approach to going out, to seeing friends, to deciding what type of surface we’re willing to sleep on…

And even though we’re not so old that we’re not still presented with some of the same opportunities as there were when we were younger – there are still parties (weddings), and gigs (YouTube) and even sleepovers (cohabitation) – when they do come up, our grown-up brains will think about things that wouldn’t even have occurred to us when we were younger. Allow me to compare – though please note that, as a person who was young in the nineties and early noughties, my concept of what a young person thinks about may be slightly out of date.

Scenario 1: Going to a party/pub/wedding/on holiday/on a train/leaving the house to do anything whatsoever
Young person thoughts: Will there be booze? How do I get the booze? Will he/she be there? Is this the right occasion for me to wear my skirt-trouser?
Adult thoughts: Will I be too cold? Will I be too hot? Will water be readily available? Will I get a seat? What is the toilet situation? Is there a lot of walking involved? Will there be dickheads?

Scenario 2: Selecting a new dress
Young person thoughts: Is this something Baby Spice would wear? Do my platform trainers go with it?
Adult thoughts: Does it have a pocket that will hold a tissue? Can I wear proper pants with it? Is it dry-clean only? (Because if it is, you can forget it.)

Scenario 3: Choosing a new handbag
Young person thoughts: Is it big enough to hold this inexplicably enormous ring binder I insist on owning? And this tin pencil case I’ve covered with my initials written in Tipp-Ex?
Adult thoughts: Does it have a good zip? What is the pocket situation? Is it so deep that I’ll never be able to find anything? Is it big enough to hold an umbrella, cardigan and Tupperware box? Does it have a good handle?

Scenario 4: Somebody coming to stay at your house
Young person thoughts: Is it a boy? Does he smell? Could I beat him at Street Fighter II?
Adult thoughts: Are they clean? Do they respect bathrooms? Will they notice that I haven’t dusted the television?

Scenario 5: Going away for the weekend
Young person thoughts: Will there be a TV? Can I watch Gladiators?
Adult thoughts: Will I be back earlier enough on Sunday to do my washing? Will there be dickheads?

Yes, we think very differently now.

I don’t remember when things changed; when antibacterial hand wash started mattering more to me than my mobile phone, or when I first wanted to bail on a trip to the cinema on the off-chance that somebody might sniff during the film… but now that we’re here there’s no turning back.

But thankfully it doesn’t mean we can’t still have fun, we’re just a little more prescriptive. If you can find us a wedding party with comfortable chairs, a steady supply of H2O, sparklingly clean toilets and with a minimal number of dickheads on the guest list, then you’re in for quite the party.

And if there happens to be some Boyzone on the playlist then that’s even better. I’ve been working on a little something I think you’ll enjoy…

Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: age, being too cold, boyzone, dancing, going out, growing up, nineties, sitting down, spice girls, weddings

Hens vs stags: Two very different dos

04/08/2013 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

Hen do badgeLocation
Me: Manchester
Him: Munich

Paraphernalia
Me: Two pink sashes, one balloon, and one excellent badge (see right).
Him: PVC lederhosen.

Memory
Me: I can remember every single thing. Every drink, every dance move, every cupcake with a picture of the groom’s face printed on it.
Him: Absolutely none whatsoever beyond 10pm (although he can’t actually remember the precise time he lost his memory so it was probably a lot earlier than that).

Dancing
Me: Enough to excuse me from exercise for at least a month / that it’s a wonder nobody got hurt / that I must never become famous lest the CCTV footage comes back to haunt me.
Him: I’m not sure if stumbling into a cutlery table and smashing it all over the floor of a busy restaurant really counts as dancing…

Entertainment
Me: Food, sitting down, spa treatments, and cabaret featuring a Madonna montage that was so perfect it made me want to buy a cone shaped bra. I’m sure I’d get a lot of wear out of it.
Him: Does watching your friend ‘tombstone’ your best man into a breeze block, knocking him unconscious, count as entertainment? I’m told the answer is ‘not at the time but absolutely 100% yes the following day’.

Vomiting
Me: Ok, perhaps a little but it’s not my fault my food allergies couldn’t even give me my hen do weekend off.
Him: A good keg’s worth each, apparently. But if you will drink your weight in beer and jagermeister, you will suffer the consequences.

Casualties
Me: One pedicure chip caused – I believe – by over kicking to Footloose.
Him: I’m told that at the height of his inebriation he demanded an ambulance be called. Thankfully nobody was sober enough to dial 1.1.2 in the right order so he just had to sleep/vomit it off instead.

Photos
Me: We’re women: if we did it, we snapped it.
Him: Once you’ve seen one picture of your future husband in tight PVC shorts, there’s really no need to see more.

Recovery
Me: I’m writing this on the same day as I returned from the hen so I think I’m through the worst of it.
Him: Completion date TBC.

Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: alcohol, bride, clothes, dancing, friends, going out, marriage, men, vomit, wedding, women

HELLO, I’M CHARLOTTE

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Welcome to Nothing good rhymes with Charlotte. This blog is full of honest words about parenting, relationships, confidence and friendship. I'm here to help us all feel less alone and to make you laugh when I can, too. Want to hire me to write for you or just fancy a chat? Get in touch: nothinggoodrhymeswithcharlotte@gmail.com

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