Reality Vs Expectation: Cheap online clothing

2 Mar

It all started innocently enough. An enticing facebook ad led me into the alluring trap below, with promises of 50% off and cute clothes starting at $1.99. What could possibly go wrong?!



Hello, is it romwe you’re looking for?

Well, as the title of this post may suggest, somewhere beteween a little bit and a lot. A lottle if you will. Exhibit A, below:

This understated and very cheap little number looked worth a try – a flattering skater style, a cinched waist and a fun lace frill. Here’s how it looked on the website:



And in the first of a series of self-deprecating images, please see the reality:



WHY?



My expression says all there is to say really. Prognosis: Bin

Next, a jazzy little houndstooth number with a very on trend contrast collar. Maybe I could even wear it to work!

Expectation:



Reality: I almost died. It was even worthy of a collage. The left side is a creative representation of what the garment may look like if i could worm my way into it. Sans sleeves.



Prognosis: Maybe I could cut the bottom off and make a skirt, right? I CAN SAVE IT.

Next up was this retro stylin’ navy dress. Expectation:



Cute, a little different. Maybe even some kind of 50’s vibe about it.

Reality: I obviously need to clean my mirror, and I look like fat magistrate. Prognosis: Will need to be liquored before I decide wearing this in public is a good idea.



And finally, this basic tartan scarf/pashmina business (Pretty sure I only bought this for free shipping), 

Expectation:



Reality: Faaahhhhbulousss. Never underestimate the shawl. Prognosis: New staple.



Where’s your god now?

I now hope that if nothing else, the $55 I wasted on junky clothes will serve as a public service announcement: only expect hilariously ill-fabricated clothes when they are this cheap.

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Being a Grown Up…. Kind of.

11 Jan

Some of you may have read a post I did around this time last year – What Really Happens When you Move Out of Home.

This post is pretty much a Part II/Spin-off to that.

I’m a firm believer I’m probably still not going to be convinced that I’m a bona fide grown up even when I’m 70, but I feel like I’m currently at that point where I mostly have my shit together. Mostly…kind of.

Me, every year.

Me, every year.

Being a grown up is…..being MacGyver in all situations.

Oh, so you’re going to a job interview and a button just broke on your shirt. What now? Hyperventilate and break out in a slight hive-like rash. Ok now what? Rummage through you handbag and glove box and somehow find that past-you had future-you’s back – there’s a safety pin in there!! Proceed to fix shirt, dominate life, get the job. This also applies to using earrings, bobby pins, anything you can get your little grown up mitts on to fix handbags, dresses, and broken bra straps. Especially bra straps – seriously, stud earrings work a charm on those!

macguyver

This is you now.

Being a grown up is….wiping your nose on receipts.

So this act should probably go alongside the MacGyver heading but honestly, I’ve had to subject myself to this horror so many times that it deserves its own heading. If there’s one things grown ups have an abundance of, it’s receipts. In the car, in the handbag, in the wallet. They’re everywhere. So what do you turn to when your nose is running in the car, or some other location where you are stranded without any sight of a napkin, tissue or other soft nose-wiping delight? Receipt it is. Comfortable? No. Soft? Definite no. Vaguely, kind-of effective? Yes. Maybe one day I will invest in travel tissues, but until then this is my life.

Me, but imagine shop-a-dockets instead.

Me, but imagine shop-a-dockets instead.

Being a grown up is….finally figuring out quality is more important than quantity.

This is why I refuse to buy any underwear that comes in a multi-pack. However, on a more profound note this applies to friends.

As you mature, you realise that having a handful of important people who get you and what you’re about – and more importantly respect you, is far better than having 50 acquaintances who you exchange an occasional ‘Sup?’ with.

Not to say that having an outer circle who you’re not close with, but do enjoy spending time with isn’t ok – but having your core people who you don’t have to make an effort for is the essence of grown-up-ness.

Also, by ‘don’t have to make an effort for’ I mean you can see them in pajamas and no makeup, not that you can leave them neglected like a pair of lumpy socks in the back of the drawer. However, these are the kind of friends who get that you don’t have to text and facebook message every single day to be kindred spirits.

quality over quantity

Being a grown up is….letting go of other peoples expectations.

Easier said than done, but incredibly liberating. Unfortunately, it’s human nature to constantly be curious – particularly about what other people think of you. More important however, is what you think of you. You’re the one who is in charge of your life, and your perception of happiness and success is paramount.

Taking the time to align your own expectations of yourself, to the exclusion of anyone else’s is a tough pursuit though. My ground rules for this are pretty simple, but it works for me. If it makes me happy, or helps me reach a goal and doesn’t negatively impact on others – I do it! I try not to get caught up in justifying my actions/goals/feelings/thoughts to others. It is what it is, and I live my life for me.

Since I adopted this approach (a gradual thing, but it eventually came to fruition), I couldn’t be happier.

Cue Frozen song..."LET IT GOOOOO, LET IT GOOOO"

Cue Frozen song…”LET IT GOOOOO, LET IT GOOOO”

And finally….

Being a grown up is….doing your eyeliner with Sharpie.

Ok so once again, I’ve realised this could’ve gone under the MacGyver heading but I wanted to end this post on a more light-hearted note. I’ve had to do this a couple of times. Awkward, post-unexpected ‘sleepover’ makeup anyone? Insert winky face. I think the other times were just urgent make-up touch ups where i had no other cosmetic supplies other than a sharpie. Disclaimer: god knows what awful things might happen if you get sharpie in your eye….please don’t attempt this at home or anywhere.

Revlons newest addition?

Revlons newest addition?

Sex Things You Need to Stop Doing.

18 Nov

1. Don’t mess with the Radio

2. Don’t tell me which way to go.

3. Ok let’s get serious now, enough corny pop music references. Surely I’m not the only person who remembers that song, right? Should you require englightenment please refer to the below:

Right, now we’ve got that out of the way, let’s cut to the chase. First of all, especially if we’re related and you’re reading this – the contents of the blog post are based primarily on anecdotal experience. Possibly even completely fictional. I’ll never tell.

1. My thigh-crease is not my vagina.

If you’re reading this thinking: What in the fuck is she talking about?’, I can confirm I have raised this matter with others and been told i’m not alone. Although an occurrence primarily reserved for the sexual fumblers of this world, it needs to be stamped out all together.

Example: If you’re trying to get fresh with someone through their clothes….for whatever reason, you need to be clear on what exactly you’re touching. It should never be the thigh crease, ever.

Tip: Keep your wandering hands centred, no veering left or right. If you can’t master this you are in serious trouble my friend.

Pythagoras' OTHER theorem.

Pythagoras’ OTHER theorem.

2. Doing Freaky Stuff

Of course, no one wants to have that awkward conversation – ‘Can I hog-tie you with a laptop cord?’, ‘Can i sniff your used underwear?’ – but you know what’s worse? FINDING OUT THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT WHEN IT’S ALREADY HAPPENING! You’ll find most people are pleasantly open to experimental sexy stuff, but it’s courtesy to bring that shit up. Worst case they’re not keen, so you probably shouldn’t be banging them anyway.

Tip: Don’t be weird and over-think it, just a brief “heyyy so um I thought maybe we should give this a whirl sometime kcool.”

Maybe give her a heads up before you pull this out?

Maybe give her a heads up before you pull this out?

3. Anatomically Correct Dirty Talk

By definition, ‘dirty talk’ should be smutty and risque, it’s a time for saying things that might get you into trouble any other time than in bed…or on the floor, the table, whatever. Unless it’s an obscure fetish you and your partner both share, it’s kind of a boner-kill to hear anything reminiscent of a biology textbook, e.g: breasts, or vagina. This is sexy sex time, not a health class.

Tip: Obviously it’s meant to be spontaneous, but try a brief nanosecond of forethought before blurting out what you’re about to say. No more than a nanosecond though, because even good dirty talk is incredibly awkward if you let your logical brain think about it too much.

Try-Talking-Dirty_o_98873

You’re doing it wrong Mr. Penguin.

4. Really un-sexy dirty talk

Although very similar to point 3, this deserves a heading all of it’s own. Once again, my statements are made based on the assumption that the majority of people don’t enjoy phrases such as ‘I wanna feel you inside my wet self’ or ‘I love dicking you.’.

Same tip applies as above. If you’re about to blurt out (or possibly sext)anything close to what I just mentioned. Stop. Think. Try Again. Quite frankly, if you’re so uncomfortable with smutty mutterings that you end up rambling unsexy drivel, it’s best to just remove it from your sexual repertoire. There’s also the option of practicing it alone until you don’t say weird shit, just don’t get caught.

Awkward Dirty Talk

5. Don’t say my name

I often wondered how in popular culture, it’s well documented that the awkwardness of someone saying the wrong name in the heat of the moment is a legitimate thing. It took a while for me to stumble across this phenomena, and quite honestly once or twice in the course of a session it’s a nice thing. More than that, it’s weird. Name-uttering should be a sex garnish, not a main meal. Or maybe i’m just traumatised from the childhood chanting of ‘Jack-Jack-Jackieeeee’

Tip: Do as Walter White tells you, but once or twice. Maybe.

Say my Name

When no one is around you, say baby I love youuu.

6. Grazing your sleeping spouse with your morning wood to get them in the mood.

All other points have been fairly gender neutral, but sorry boys – this one’s for you. Let’s picture this: You’re ever-so-slightly awake, the sun is shining in through the windows, but it’s the weekend and you get to go back to sleep. You smile serenely and drift back to sleep. Nek Minnit: This warm fleshy appendage is being pressed against your butt. You’re confused due to your dazed sleepy state. It happens again. This time a longer more insistent press. You roll your eyes and think ‘Jesus fuck are you a dog nagging me for a treat or do you want to have sex with me? Is this sex nagging? It is, isn’t it?’

Once these thoughts have run themselves through your mind, it’s difficult to feel enthused about the situation. Sure, maybe 10% of the time it’s nice, but the other 90% of the time it’s like your cat headbutting you because it wants some ham from your pizza.

Tip: There are plenty of other sexy awakenings that can provide a happy ending. Neck kisses for one. That is all I can really recommend strongly.

Orrrr maybe it won't.

Orrrr maybe it won’t.

Alright folks, that’s enough sexual disclosure for now. Mum, if you’re still reading this is a work of fiction.

11 More Token Drunk Conversations – Country edition

6 Oct

After reading a recent article I saw shared on Facebook, entitled ‘Drunk Conversations Every Woman Has Had’ first of all I laughed until my liver hurt. Then I thought about my poor liver, and some (many) drunk conversations I’ve had. If there was ever a subject I’m qualified to write on, it’s drunk conversations. Below are the inspired musings of ’11 More Token Drunk Conversations – Country edition’; original prose from my poor little liver.

Let me set the scene – Although I’m plenty partial to the odd beverage or seven in Melbourne, it’s often during my visits to my hometown in country Victoria that I tend to have some of my more memorable intoxicated antics, so let’s just say this is reminiscent of every girls night out I’ve ever had for the last 5 years. Names have been (poorly) changed to preserve the tiny shreds of dignity anyone who associates with me has left. If it rhymes with your name, I probably mean you.

Disclaimer: There is abundance of ALL CAPS, only out of pure necessity. Denotations of yelling were essential to preserve this narratives raw integrity.

1. Glass of Moscato:  “Mmm no sorry Lacey,  I really don’t wanna go out, let’s just play singstar and bitch. Ugh I hateeeee going out.”

2. Pineapple Cruiser: “(Singstar Intermission) YOU’RE THE VOICE TRY AND UNDERSTANDDDD IT, MAKE A NOISSSEEE AND MAKE IT CLEAAAAAR….ok Kath maybe i’ll go out, but seriously for like an hour. Maybe 45 minutes. If the line is longer than 12 people I’m going straight home. The pub is so trashy I don’t ever think I can be bothered”

3. Glass of room temperature juice including half a cup of vodka: ‘Can you help me curl my hair, Zara? I wanna look goooood tonight…JAN? WHERE THE FUCK IS JAN? GET YOUR SWEET BOOOOTAY IN HERE JAN!! Oh thank god you’re here. Lets get trashhhhy tonight. Yes I am peeing, what of it?

4. Weird homemade shots including apple schnapps & lime: “Has someone called a taxi yet??’ “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE TAXI IS OUT THE FRONT???’ Has anyone seen my phooooooneeeee. Ok selfie time before we get in the taxi guys!! Hang on I hate that one. Ok lets go again. OMG FUCKING FLASH FUCK OFF. Ok you go on that side Jan this is my shit side. Holy shit can the taxi just please stop beeping??”

5. Two frozen daiquiris, one for each hand: “Oh my god Kath did you see Sharon on the dancefloor?? I think I can see her fucking vagina.”

6. Sculled glass of VB at the bar: “You know what…. I really feel like I cigarette… Isn’t that weird? Do you think we should, do you have mints? Lets go ask people for mints! LACEY DO YOU HAVE MINTS? Can you ask that guy next to you? He looks like he has good breath.”

7. Jagerbomb: “Zara, Kath, This is my JAM! Get on the dancefloor now! Excuse me…. sorry….please move…. Move bitch get out the way!!! APPLE BOTTOM JEANSSSS BOOTS WITH THE FURRRRR. Get low with me Kath!! Get lowwwwww.

8. Beer found on the windowsill: “Oh my god Jan this guy will not leave me alone, he’s freaking me out. It’s the one behind me now. Don’t look at him oh my god!! Yes the one with the beanie. Oh jesus please just pretend to be lesbian with me.

9. CC & Dry Can: “Will anyone play Big Buck Hunter with me? ….Anyone?”

10. Vodka & Red Bull “Ok Kath, new plan, lets storm the disabled toilet, I am legitimately going to die if I have to wait for a real toilet. Ok lets go for it, just walk in and don’t make eye contact….ZARAAAA, JANNNN DO YOU GUYS HAVE TO PISS?? GET IN HERE! Ok toilet selfies now. Cover your fanny please Kath.

11. Shot of Jack Daniels: “What do you mean Lacey is crying?? What happened?! What do you mean they called her a slut? I will fucking glass them. Who was it? I will seriously cut a bitch, don’t even go there SERIOUSLY I will throw down.

12. Smirnoff Double Black: “Oh my god Sally I have not seen you in yearrrrs!! What are you up to these days? Ooh wow, studying law? Seriously that is so exciting, how awesome!” “Ugh, Kath I could not get AWAY from Sally, you remember, from my biology class? She wouldn’t stop talking about her shitty law degree. Who majors in conveyancing, what a fucking bore, thank god you rescued me!! Why do you have mints??”

13. Half of Jan’s bacardi breezer: “Guys where did Jan go, I have her drink! What do you mean she left an hour ago?! She didn’t even say goodbye, fucker. Can we pleeeeeeease get chips, cheese and gravy? Do you think I could ask for kebab meat on top? Will you feed me by hand like a goat? Remember to keep a flat palllllm. Can you put a status up to see if anyone will drive us home?

2014 in Review – Kicking Ass & Taking Names

29 Sep

Disclaimer: No asses were harmed in the making of this blog post. Names may or may not have been taken and are strictly subject to a non-disclosure policy.

Now we’ve gotten the formalities out of the way, this post is essentially for me to toot my own horn, and maybe help you toot yours along the way.

I’ve never been a big believer in New Year’s Resolutions, but at the end of 2013, I thought to myself – there is some shit I want to get done and I need it to happen soon. Many of those things have happened this year, which I’m pretty chuffed about.

1. Quit my Job.

This was a huge deal for me, mahoosive deal, if you will. This job was my first full-time ‘grown up’ job, and by the time I left I was only a few weeks shy of having been there for four years. Against a lot of sound advice I received, I resigned from this job with no new job lined up. The one of many reasons being that I was in a very unique situation of working as the only employee in an owner-operated business, and getting a reference whilst you’re still working somewhere from your only co-worker is a touch on the difficult side. That ended up backfiring spectacularly when I received the biggest dud of a reference ever, but hey – let’s hope Karma is real.

That’s exactly what I did.

The more pertinent part of this tale is that most of all, I didn’t feel like I could sneakily go to job interviews and blatantly lie about my whereabouts. Whilst it probably would’ve been in my best interests, I wanted to be honest and be able to hold my head up high about my decisions. So I gave my boss four weeks notice, and booked in a real estate course to commence the first Monday of my unemployment. I’d done some soul-searching and realised I’ve had an interest in property and it’s associated realms for a long time, and it’s something I wanted to explore further.

Fast forward seven months, I completed my Agent’s Representative certificate, worked at a temp job that was 10% of the stress and 150% of the pay of my old job, and for the past few months I’ve been very happily employed in a role within property that fulfills and excites me, and that I can see evolving successfully over the coming years.

Summary: I pursued my own ambitions and did it my way, and I’m about 9 million times happier for it.

2. Started writing where people could see it.

This faggy hat sums up my feelings quite nicely.

As long as I can remember, writing has been my preferred outlet. Whether it was in the form of mandatory school essays, or embarrassing ‘dear diary’ entries – I always feel better once I’ve poured my soul out through a keyboard or a pen. I’d never really seriously entertained the thought that other people might get a kick out of reading my writing – the idea of it seemed egocentric and scary, I didn’t want to put myself out there to be judged by the whole internet. Then I thought, what’s the worst thing that could happen?

So I wrote some things, shared it on Facebook, and I’ve only heard positive things so far – Now I get the therapeutic benefits of writing, and an ego-stroke at the same time when someone tells me they liked it! I’ve also started writing a book – it’s not very far along yet, but I’ve decided it’s happening and that’s that. Stay tuned for ‘If I have to wear pants, I’m not coming’ – a field guide for surviving life into your 20’s.

3. Got a cat.

Ok so this is pretty lame, but as a long-term worrier and commitment-phobe, I loved the idea of having a pet but I was terrified of the ramifications. What if I want to go on holidays? What if it doesn’t love me? What if Ash and I break up and we have to take half a cat each?? I decided to put aside my worries and we adopted Delilah (RSPCA Name: Krystal, but we don’t talk about that) and she has been a delightful addition to our lives ever since.

This is our resplendent baby Dil.

Summary: I quit overanalysing and just did what I wanted to do.

4. Learned something new about myself.

I thought I had myself pretty well summed up, I’ve been me now for a solid 24 and a bit years, and I feel like I definitely know myself, strengths and limitations included. Something that I’ve known for a long time is that if I’m not good at things, I don’t like them. I thought this was pretty standard. However, this combined with a few other issues got me googling. Turns out, I’m a perfectionist.

I always thought that term only applied to really annoying over-achievers, who were OCD about having things just how they like them – which is definitely not me. However it turns out if you have really ridiculously high standards for yourself, and you beat yourself up over when you don’t meet them – you might just be a perfectionist.

Other symptoms include: abnormal fear of failure, inability to ask for help (obviously if you need help, you’re an incapable retard, right?), you either do things perfectly or you’d prefer not to do them at all. Anything less than perfection is perceived as failure (this takes me right back to getting a B+ on a school assignment, and feeling like a complete dunce).

My life in a nutshell.

In any case, the best part about me figuring this out is that now I have a name for it, I feel like I can deal with it better! I’ve essentially made a habit of reminding myself that I’m human, and if I wouldn’t realistically expect something of someone else, I can’t expect it from myself.

Summary: Self awareness is a great thing, and this year I’ve identified things that going to help me be a functioning human being in the long-term sense of things.

5. Did things because I wanted to, just for me.

In summary: I got an iphone and got my septum pierced. I couldn’t be more pleased with either.

Oh hello septum friend.

That’s all for now, please tune in again next time – possibly for a blog that’s more relevant to you and less all about me.

Things I don’t have time for.

17 Aug

As the title of this post suggests, below you will find a rambling summation of ‘things I don’t have time for’.

In the relatively figurative sense of course. I could probably make time for all the things on this list, but the point is that I simply don’t care enough about any of them to do so. I like to call it the cost/benefit principle. The benefits of doing/having/using any of the below don’t warrant the cost and/or time they require.

First of all,

1. Laundry delicates bags.

You know the ones. If you’ve ever bought anything from Bras N Things you will have been flogged about 80 of these. My standard line is ‘Oh no thanks, I have like 20 at home *flippant giggle*’. Just kidding BNT Lady, I have none. Zero! Of course, I understand the benefit is to protect your precious panties and brassieres from the abrasive horror of the washing machine. Quite frankly, if my undergarments can’t stand up to be gently agitated in warm water, then I don’t want them anyway. Survival of the fittest and all that. Darwinism totally applies to my underwear drawer, ok?

Furthermore, it’s enough effort actually doing washing full stop, let alone herding it into separate little knicker bags.

Nope.

 

2. Hairstyles that involve more than one hair tie or two bobby pins.

This is primarily the product of a) my laziness, b) disinterest in elaborate hairstyles and c) my poor personal time-management skills.

Riddle me this though, who wants to spend a full half hour in the morning doing battle with their hair, (bobby)pinning it down and (hair)tying it up? Not this gal. My go to is either down, or up in a weird bun thing. Sometimes a ponytail if I’m feeling adventurous. As the subtitle of this section portrays, if I have to hunt down more bobby pins than the supply already sitting around on my bathroom vanity- which is two if i’m lucky, then it’s absolutely not happening.*

*unless someone wants to come and do my hair for me….. BYO bobby pins. It’s not that I don’t want pretty hair, I just can’t be bothered.

Maybe if I got up at 5am…and had 6 times as much hair.

 

3. Flat sheets.

Flat sheets, top sheets, whatever you want to call them. Whatever the one is that isn’t fitted.

Call me completely uncouth, but I just fucking hate them. I hate how I feel like I’m in a full body straight jacket when they’re tucked in, and I hate how they get all scrunched up and interfere with my relationship with my doona when they’re untucked. It’s a no-win situation for me.

Although they were forced upon me all of my childhood and teenage years, I have eschewed notion of the top sheet and I’ve never looked back.

This is my own personal hell.

 

4. Preheating the oven.

This one is practically the epitome of lazy, but I just hate having to pre-plan my eating.

Usually it goes something like this. “Hmmm I really want a pizza pocket/pastizzi/some other oven food, I’ll just pop that in the oven.’ ‘FUCK THE FUCKING OVEN IS COLD I HAVE TO WAIT 15 GOD DAMN MINUTES BEFORE I CAN EVEN PUT THE SHITTING FOOD IN. Jesus wept I’ll just have a coffee and some toast for shit’s sake.’

This can’t be solved other than the possibility of me developing some kind of 6th sense for knowing what I want to eat before I want to eat it, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.

There is no god damn way I’m putting that oven on.

5. Ebay listings that aren’t ‘buy it now’.

I think we can all relate. The days of me being thrilled by counting down to the last second of the ebay auction are long gone.

Now I don’t have time for that shit – if I’m already trying to shop online and I’m searching Ebay for what I want, of course I want to ‘Buy It Now’. That’s the whole idea of online shopping; relatively instant gratification via purchase (despite 30 day sea-shipping from Hong Kong.) If I wanted to wait and think about it and watch it, I might even consider leaving the house and going to a real shop.

Maybe I do really need that Kim K skirt. WHY WON’T YOU LET ME BUY IT NOW KIM?!

Annnnd that is my Sunday rant done for now. Stay tuned for next time.

Depression, my two cents.

8 May

Warning, controversial subject matter ahead, tread with both caution and and an open mind about what I am actually trying to communicate.

The idea first occurred to me several weeks ago, that as a society it seems we are fostering a culture of what I like to call ‘depression acceptance’ – which, I would like to make perfectly clear, I think is fantastic. It’s not fair that those who are suffering from depression are made to feel even more misjudged, marginalised and unaccepted than they already do. So for that reason, I am absolutely 120% all for the move toward the societal acceptance of mental illness, namely depression.

 

As long as you know that one day, you will be ok, and work toward that!

My beef with this whole issue lies within the fact that I personally feel as though alongside this acceptance, comes a complacency. We are all feeling much more comfortable with the notion that it’s ok to be depressed, it’s ok for our friends to be depressed, and it’s ok for us to remain a complacent bystander to the whole ordeal. It’s ok because we’re ‘there for them’ or we ‘understand’. What are we doing to help a friend who’s depressed? Just being there. Accepting that they are depressed, and it’s alright to be depressed.

Having suffered depression myself, I know that just being there is incredibly damn important. Having someone who is consistently there for you even when you are the shittiest person to be with is unspeakably paramount in being able to pull yourself out of the black hole that is being depressed.

 

Sometimes depression isn’t just sad, it’s not feeling anything at all.

However, having someone to give you some tough love, and force you to see that you weren’t meant to live a life of being sad, lonely and defeated is even more important. Let me be clear here that I don’t believe in the ethos of those annoying bastards who think they can ‘fix’ you, when you suffer from depression or any other mental illness. There is no quick fix; the road to recovery is a sum of small efforts every day to see the good things in life again, to allow yourself to feel good things again, to have someone who is not only there for you, but is there to help you on the journey to recovery.

This is pretty much what I’m trying to say. Be that person to someone who needs it.

I hope I’ve provided some clarity on what I mean – being depressed is ok, but living with and accepting it as your long term reality is not.  Accepting that recovery will be a long and lonely road, with plenty of hurdles along the way, is the most helpful form of ‘depression acceptance’ in my mind.

So whether you are reading this as someone suffering with depression, or as someone who can be the person who drags another person out a depressive slump (perhaps kicking and screaming), do something about it. If you know a friend who is struggling, reach out to them. Take them out for a coffee, a day trip drive, a snow cone. Anything. Remind them that life is good. If you are the one doing the struggling, reach out to others, and if your friends are jerks, I suggest a) finding new ones, but b) finding a way to remind yourself every day that you have something to be happy about, thankful for, or that makes you smile. Even trivial things, i.e: I have an impressive nail polish collection, today I saw a daffodil, my pink bed socks are super snuggly, dominos accidentally gave me double pepperoni on my pizza. Anything and everything!

So I guess this ramble kind of turned into a self-help guide, but I’m ok with that. Other things I think you should look at if you are currently, or have ever been depressed (or even if you just want to understand real life depression a little better) include this: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com.au/2011/10/adventures-in-depression.html