The Beelzebub In The Brush Strokes

There is a persistent assumption about make-up; that it’s intention is to fabricate something that doesn’t already have form. It creates cheek bones on a round face, lips from a fine line, push social boundaries that were steady. It is a message to the outside world: “I wish to mask myself”.

And it can be; Kardashian highlighting, instabrows, Kylie Jenner lips. These trends revolutionized makeup and what it means to apply it. Surprisingly enough, I err more towards freshed face looks, doing very little to adjust the shape of my face. Make-up is less a fashion statement for me and more of an enhancement of my best self. And as that changes from day to day, so does my make-up. If I’m feeling in touch with my body (whether that be CFS pain/fatigue or sexy to the nines) I like to embrace that! I want to look tired when I feel tired or look sexy when I feel sexy. If I am feeling more intouch with my imagination, I will replicate that in glitter or assuming a character. I purposefully choose to adjust my outside to suit my inside.

It is a conundrum that must plague those whom see make-up at that attempt to redefine what is. It may simply be an enhancement of what already exists. An unpainted canvase, no matter how big or small, is a masterpiece waiting to be revealed

Make-up, for me, is not a statement of vanity, it is not a reflection of my insecurity. It is a method of expression, a moving element of creativity and a true statement of my inner-self.

Think-le All The Way!

Merry Christmas Eve Eve!!!

Today’s look is a play on the Christmas carol “O’ Christmas Tree”. I like to imagine silver bells dangling from boughs of frosted green; super pretty!

This post is a tad different from yesterday! Do you see what I’m doing here? I’m giving some different layouts a good try! If my Instagram brought you here then you know I put on a wee video this morning showing you snippets of my application process. If my Instagram didn’t bring you here then you’ve joined us mid-story! You wouldn’t want to open the book when Harry was just being sorted into Gryffindor would you? Of course you wouldn’t!! You’ll have missed meeting Hagrid and buying the wand and getting the Hogwarts Express! Shame on you! Get to Instagram and find @thinkpippa and take a look at the video!

Now! The rest of you were obviously at the midnight launch dressed up, make up brushes at the ready- ah! You’re back from Instagram are you, fair weather reader? Excellent!

So today’s trial layout is simply posting a pic of the look and listing the things I used. No pictures or what have you because I’m resting! Putting this much glitz on ones face it a bit of a killer when you’re mid-M.E relapse prompts a sexy exorcist style vomit intermission and a sofa session. But I took it as an opportunity to try this.

I’m gonna post the look-layout like this:

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And then give you a list of all the products I used like this:

Eyes:

Lime Crime Eyeshadow Primer
Nyx Jumbo Eye Pencil in Cottage Cheese
Bourjois Smoky Eyes Eyeshadow Trio in Vert Jungle
Bourjois Smoky Eyes Eyeshadow Trio in Vert Trendy
Bourjois Ombre a Paupieres Eyeshadow in Noir Emeraude 07
Urban Decay Naked 3 Pallet in Strange
Urban Decay Naked 3 Pallet in Nooner
Barry M Dazzle Dust in #8 Iridescent Silver
Miss Sporty Clear Mascara (for getting the glitter to stick)
Stargazer Holographic Glitter
Collection 24h Felt Tip Liner in Teal
Too Faced Better Than Sex Mascara

Face:

Bare Minerals primer
Clinique Redness Reducing Foundation in Shade 2
Vichy Derma-Blend Foundation in Opal
Smashbox Photoset Finishing Powder
Laura Geller Baked Gelato Vivid Swirl Blush in Plumberry

Lips:
Makeup Revolution Lip Liner in
MAC Crème d’Nude Lipstick
MAC Nymphette Lipglass.

And then lie back and relax while you frantically Google  what the products look like and then attempt to find dupes in your collection! I am awfully wicked aren’t I? Muwahaha!

But in all seriousness, I find this sort of make-up post seriously annoying and it is why, when it comes to looking for looks to try, I make a bee-line for YouTube! But experimenting is fun; I want to make ALL the rookie mistakes! Speaking of YouTube; Some of my fave MUA’s are Chrisspy, Glam and Gore, NikkieTutorials and Carli Bybel! Each of them has their own speciality but they’re all fantastic! If you haven’t checked any of them out then you really should and, if they ask (like, say, they bring your attention to the comment section), tell ‘em who sent ‘ya!

I am really loving doing these Christmas looks. I started at the beginning of the week with a “Jingle All The Way” look, which I like to think evokes the sassier of Santa’s reindeer, all glitzed out in gold reigns and jingle bells!

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My house is a tad bare at the moment because I’m not decorating! I am spending my first Christmas in 8 years all the way up in Scotland with my family! Super-duper excited! I hope you are feeling the Holiday spirit where you are!

Stay tuned for tomorrows Christmas eve look which I’m feeling will be inspired by Silent Night!

I Think Shit’s Gonna Get Serious.

It’s difficult to admit when you’re having a relapse. That feeling of weakness and utter degradation of having to have your partner, your world, your reason for breathing come into the bedroom to make sure your back is supported by pillows, that you’re not in pain. And you’re extremely aware that you smell similar to the back end of a rhino and you didn’t remove yesterdays make-up. But you keep fighting; you walk tall even though your back is killing you. You stand upright even though it is exhausting and your balance is shot to shit.

I forever speak in riddles, jokes or hyperbole…shall I go for some honesty here? It’s rare so prepare yourself.

I speak in we’s and you’s when I am at my most vulnerable. It is a coping mechanism I created to feel less alone so when I failed at something I could always say “we are trying something new” or “we decided to take a walk”. I is usually reserved for when I screw up.

I is ownership. I is a way of identifying what feelings are mine. I is how my heart beats faster when something has touched me. I is a very strong individual.

But I didn’t come from nothing. I sometimes forget that the path I left behind is strewn with mistakes and problems and paths untravelled and abandoned dreams, relationships, toys, people etc.

I’m rambling. What I am getting at is that I have fought my way through a lot of stuff…and I often fall into old habits of taking my strength for granted. And I think it is something we (I) often do; usually when we (I) want to be taken care of or when we (I) make a mistake or when we (I) long for someone to understand where we’re (I’m) coming from… (See all the ‘we’? I must be hitting a nerve!)

Riley and I had a conversation tonight and, to cut a long (and private) story short, she reminded me of how important learning to love myself was to how my life is now. And how I don’t think I would go back and change anything that has happened in it for the world because I trust that I was doing it for the right reasons at the time. And I love the person that made those decisions then as much as I love myself now. I was doing what I could. I regret some of them, sure. And I would have done things differently if I had the brain and love for myself that I have now. Insert long sentence of self loathing.

But…hindsight is 20/20, lense power adjusted due to experience. Cant have one without the other.

I am going to share something important with you. And it is possibly triggering so please mind the gap- shit’s about to get deep. It’s a poem. And it is a poem that was the turning point in my recovery from before. It was when I became this girl; a girl on fire. I love with wild abandon, I live for the moment and I know my own strength. I think, often, we are too humble and take our strength for granted… so I’m going to type this out to you to remind myself where my strength comes from…and when I discovered it. And maybe it will touch you so you remember where your strength comes from. I wrote this when I first entered recovery for PTSD in 2013.

Clothes are short cut; short but short of nothing but the word “no”
Is embroidered on me from head-to-toe.
Cross stitch, pearl stitch with not a stitch
On but stinking piss
Seaming down my legs. “You okay?”
No- no way.
Go ‘way.
There. Stay.
And don’t come near.
Because I fear- of course, I fear!

Lonely light. Camera type? No. No dice. A lonely price
for pissing in the private night.
“You okay?”
I’m fine, okay? Stay that way? No, not today.
Skin, black. Night, black. All black. All over, Jack!
All over me.

It doesn’t hurt me, no agony in that cavity
where his fingers have no right to be.
Blind in my prefontal cortex
A dissassociated vortex
Of no thought, every thought;
Distraight notions of how and what I should feel next.
Nothing.

Mind is gone; all is wrong. From this point on we’re physical
and nothing is so trivial
than how long I have to think
and drink in the thought
of the brink being close
and the stench of some unwanted, foreign stink.

His hands crawl upon the former wretch; A motionless wall of flesh
while I become a being, fresh
with primal bite and primitive, spite-
ful screaming to the waking night.
And he will run from what he has done,
from whom he’s done.
As I, with mighty fury, have won.

Tomorrow morning views two inches of local paper’s news:
Girl fucked up in Festing Mews.
And four more years of closing doors
and drunk dance floors; still screaming
while that Girl is reeling
to break free from feeling
every thought, no thought. Nothing.

Empty girl is forever mourning another morning
of empty motion and no emotion.
But not this morning. Nothing for it.
Grin and bare it.
And stare it down this time.
The trial is not behind, or in front but now.
And wow….
I am powerful.

Think about the past: An OOTD

Hello to you dearest folk! Where have I been? Where HAVEN'T I been? It's been two weeks; A girl can get around!

Halloween hit me like a fully loaded long distance lorry with faces and makeup to
do and much lazing about on the sofa watching Rocky Horror Picture
Show with people whom didn't know that the Time Warp actually CAME
from somewhere and wasn't just some guy in Benidorm attempting to pied
piper your children to sleep stupor so you can drink yourself into a similar position.

Agadoo on the other hand probably was invented for that purpose!

Then there was a zombie night out and uni and friends
and...yes...well...my body 'noped' out considerably until Tuesday when
it began to become a little more...responsive. Please don't ask me to
demonstrate this by doing the Time Warp; I am not capable though
slightly "under sedation"! (If you don't get this reference, you have failed the test and you can't be my friend."

Thought I would deliver unto you a quick outfit of the day from the
11th of November.

I come from a family with limited but respectable military
involvement. My grandfather built ships on the Clyde coast and my
great grandfather drove munitions trains. I have known many men whom
have been to war, whom have trained for war and have served their
country aiding family and friends of those affected by war. So imagine
my irritation when it came to Poppy Day... And I had no poppy on
leaving the house!

HOWEVER! I stood on ceremony to dress myself accordingly!

IMG_3092

Simple black skater skirt from New Look paired with a sleeveless
monochrome pinstripe blouse also from New Look tucked in and a slim
belted waist with a gold accent from River Island.

And for my extra splash of red? A beautiful, Cardinal red cashmere
scarf which I received as a gift from my grandmother.

I wanted to feel decidedly feminine with my shoes, some pointed lace
ups from New Look with a little heel and some tights...though it was
unseasonably warm!


IMG_3094

I popped on my South Leather Jacket and chose to co-ordinate with my
red floral stick for the day...probably also as a subconscious nod to
my shame of not having a poppy on my chest (which I picked up later
when I got into town).

I felt super sassy (and self conscious) with so much leg out and
possibly even a little bit sexy which is the first time in a long
time. I think it helps that my hair is back to being fiery red which
makes me feel super fiery!

Put On Your Thinking Cap. 

So! I’m back! My sincerest apologies but sometimes my body and my mind refuse to play ball. I’ve had a lot of time to rest, reflect, reap the benefits of hair dye and wretch at my own stench. Now this may have taken me 3 hours to achieve but I have managed to make myself look and feel a little more human (mostly because I no longer smell like a wild animal that has rolled in something dead). 

This has been an outfit in the works since summer. I’ve been trying to find a way to take this oversized shirt dress into autumn/winter. I am super proud because I think pulling of thigh high boots when you’re under 5ft 6 is a talent…I think I did it quite well! 
 

 
 
The shirt is several sizes too big from Primark for £11. I think my other half was concerned that I was expecting some serious weight gain and not because he is a fattist, its because I am definitely not wanting any baby pandas! 
 

 
The boots were a steal at £15 from eBay and last winter season from Matalan! 

A star necklace gave a bit of interest to the whole thing and the grey really played off the silver. 
 

 
I topped it off with a hat I got from Select for £9 and my black cane for added Jack The Ripper flair! Okay, no; for balance as I have the serious T-Swizzles! 
 

 
I am loving this cape that I also nabbed from eBay because it gives me some ventilation when I have my hourly hot flash and sweat shower! Plus the tied waist really makes me feel good about my body (a novelty when it seems to be on a never ending quest to make me feel uncomfortable at every waking moment).

  

I did a simple pink shimmer eye with some winged liner and a spot of lippy with gloss and that was it!
  

Oh! And did you notice the other big difference? Yeah. I’m standing up. That wasn’t it? Oh, right! my hair is red. Again. Not that you would know when it was red previously! But it’s back. 

That wasn’t really specific to the outfit of the day but it certainly makes me feel warm and toasty inside for the Autumn! 
My CFS permitted me a nice stint in the library, always easier when one doesn’t smell like the arse end of an incontinent donkey! And I even had the energy and a little less nausea to have a pleasant lunch THEN a movie round the girls house! I was struggling to breathe abut by the end of the night but here I am, just slamming this up to say ‘hello’! And ‘please forgive me for leaving you. I know, I know you needed money to buy her nappies…Well it’s not my fault she ranaway…with the Mexican knee-pit model? I thought he was an Avon rep….well, yes, I suppose it is the better of the two…no, it didn’t start with the tattoo…no, no, it was all those midnight quesadilla you let her eat…can’t we just agree that I had more important things to do, you can check my Facebook, I’ll accuse you of cheating and argue that the kids aren’t mine and we’ll resolve it in a week on Jeremy Kyle?’
…. I tried to ease you back into my mind, there. This is what my weeks have been made up of. Day time tv, easy to cook meals and make up tutorials!
Shall see you anon,

Think Of a Wonderful Thought! 

Stay tuned throughout so you know how to enter my wee contest celebrating 100 of you guys following my journey! 

I put my hands up…I have used many excuses in the past to avoid shopping in Primark. The clothes don’t fit; they are child labour incarnate; I bought a polo neck which shrank while I was wearing it in an attempt to kill me. And I maintained this right up until the point where I was forced to resign from my job due to Considerably Fucked-up Symptoms (my CFS). I think I’ve been in denial about my being a shopaholic but when you turn against your own morals so easily…girl has to admit she got a problem.

Okay, truth, I wouldn’t have even considered shopping in Primark again had they not revised the employment scheme for the majority of their warehouses to regulate breaks, working hours, holiday and pay…so that’s my two cents and it’s all your getting! 

On to the important stuff! 

I’ve been eyeing up this tshirt for about 3 weeks weighing up outfit options, considering the tone of such a graphic tshirt, if the Rose-gold statement really is ‘me’? See, all the things that an addict doesn’t consider!!! The answer to all these questions was an unequivocal: You-Go-Girl! 
  
It’s understated, plays on negative space to draw the eye in, has a super cool dip back so I can tuck it in (or have it untucked to cover my ass when I’m feeling too bloated from IBS or PMS to show it off…or for something more casual). Not to mention I love a bit of Rose-gold; on the hair, on the fingers, on the body! 

The most important thing, though, is that it’s a little bit of adult-Disney, all wrapped up into one tshirt! It’s subtle, it’s youthful and it sends a simple message: have faith, trust and sparkle like pixie dust (which it delivers itself by being so damn shiny)! I’m muddling along at the moment and it can get a little stressful so gentle reminders have a big impact! 

Not a lot of thought went into my other purchase of black skinnies but a fashion staple for £10 isn’t to be sniffed at. They fit great around the leg, have a low-rise waist so I don’t feel like my abdominals are in a vice and seem to withstand the obligatory “skinny-jean-shuffle-and-tug” to get them on! Aside from the waist being a bit gape-y (purely because I have a bum to waist ratio skewed towards my rear end) they were an amazing purchase! 
  

The best thing by far is that my sister, the girl I have looked to for fashion advice most of my life… Admired it. Seriously. Openly admired it; I felt proud. I hope she did to because it means that she did her job! She hath trained me well! 

I earned myself extra sister points by doing something extra sisterly. She has to access to Primark…so I went and got her one! 
You wanna see the text I got? Look at the text I got! 

  

Look!!! She sent me an actual (emoji) award! My mother will be LoLing quite spectacularly! I didn’t steal my sisters clothes…I’m BUYING her duplicates of mine!!

You’ve made it this far… Here’s the reward! 

I’m wanting to giveaway 3 of these t-shirts in a Medium size (because it’s a shirt that looks good with some baggy-ness to it) to 3 of you folk who are reading! How can you win? Simple! 

1. you gotta be following my Instagram @Thinkpippa ! 


2. you gotta comment on the pic of the featured tshirt on my instagram with your happy thought! What would be your ticket to Neverland? What would give you wings? 




Get your entries on the Instagram picture by Friday 9th of October and I’ll pick my 3 favourites and those lucky lost boys/girls will win a tshirt!
Stipulations? One entry per person (I’ll be checking) AND you can enter internationally (because I think Primark is a very britishy sort of thing and no one should miss out!) winners will be announced on Monday 12th of October! 




So, what are you waiting for? Get submitting! 
To be continued! 
P.

Let’s Talk About Somethink Serious.

Disability is a curious object. And I say object because I don’t yet associate my crutch (no matter how sparkly) with my physical ability to get out the house. It’s somewhat like an impermeable glass box that one sits in, looking out. You have no choice at to how you are viewed or how you are responded to. On the off chance someone is paying close attention, you might be able to write a message on the glass in spit and breath on it…but even then… Your message can get lost. I speak for myself here, obviously. Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice, is the way that others view me, friends close to my heart that I have known for long periods of time. People whom I have known for the most intimate and most fragile of moments.

Panda is a prime example. Being a tad “perculiar” himself, he is a creature of habit. He is very used to me being a certain way mentally but, above all physically. I have had my crutch for 3 months now and, yet, it remains an anomaly which is, somewhat, irrelevant. Asking for help to get out of the bath is seemingly lazy. A mix up of words is idiotic. The crutch is a take it or leave it accessory. Thank god the man walks so slowly otherwise it would be another irregularity that the time it takes to walk from a. To b. suddenly doubles. He is the most prominent of examples I have.

Curiouser still is ones own understanding of oneself. Who am I; how do I deserve to be treated, how much pride is too much pride and how much self-consciousness is too much, how little assumption is not enough?

I am currently navigating a map of re-self discovery. Where once I could confidently stand and walk alone; I have to accept my limitations. Where once I could assume the best; I have to explain the best. Where once I could accept the norm; I have to persist on the abnormal. And I mean no disrespect to those whom understand their existence within “special needs” or “disability” or…see…I don’t even get where I stand on how to refer to myself!?

Anyway, I do not mean to disrespect others whom see their existance as the norm for them. It is not the norm for myself.

I worked 20 hours a day, I cycled 4 miles a day, I did a full time uni course, I swam regularly. Only 8 months later, I have to notify my best friends when I’m gonna fall over if I don’t sit down. I have to ask my lecturers for a spinning chair in case they move beyond my line of direct sight. I have to ask people to repeat things several times a day. I have to explicitly say to people “please stop because I can’t keep up; don’t leave me behind”. I have literally urinated down my leg in front of my best friend due to standing too long and having my lady-garden go curiously numb. They are so used to who I was before. Because they’re not used to who I am now. Because I am not used to who I am now. I am as much an aggravation to myself as my infuriation must be towards others who can’t read my mind.

Going from who I was to who I am not really is demonstration of: “you don’t look sick”. Sometimes “I don’t feel sick”…but it’s because, before, I wasn’t. Before, I could go from sitting to standing without wondering if I would piss myself.And it’s the first thing that jumps to my mind.

But I am sick. I would dearly like to remember that on the days when I’m feeling too proud.

“I am sick.”

Sorry for the Debbie-downer, lads. But it’s not all laughs and chuckles! 

To be continued.

P.

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