2017 was without a doubt the best year of my life thus far. I ran wildly with my dreams, registered as self-employed, made friends that I hope will last a life time and washed my hands next to Kim Kardashian (true story). I was going to do a post rounding up the highs and lows of the year that has past but I was struggling to get it quite right. Whilst reminiscing and reflecting is important, I prefer to look to the future. If you are really nosy and do fancy a little peak at my 2017 highs then you can find a quick review over on my Instagram stories.
I’m never entirely sure where I stand with New Year’s resolutions. On one hand I love the idea of a fresh beginning, new stationary and a chance to grow, on the other I think January is a pretty awful time to attempt to achieve such things. Lets face it, we’re all a bit fat, a bit broke and wondering whether it’s still acceptable to eat brie and Quality Street for breakfast. Last year I made one single resolution; I resolved to be bolder in my fashion choices. To stop putting things back on the rack for fear that I couldn’t ‘pull it off’ and to stop worrying about whether others liked what I was wearing or not. It started with a pair of embroidered mom jeans and quickly progressed to some shiny silver space boots that prompted David Bowie and ABBA tribute jokes. Did it work? Well, I think so because my December purchases included bright red flared culottes, a shirt with more fringing than a 1960’s Western film and a pair of shiny peach coloured Reebok classics.
What on earth is the point in setting unattainable goals that make us feel a bit naff when we inevitably forget to #eatclean by day two? Whilst I do want to think a little more about what I’m putting into my body, I know that I’ll kick start January 1st with a packet of hula-hoops and a can of coke in bed. You don’t mess with tradition. There is so much pressure to change and to be a better person just because the earth has survived another orbital period when chances are you’re already fucking fantastic. I love to make notes in pretty journals and plan, plan, plan for the year ahead but I have come to the realisation that attempting to change who I am as a person is both futile and as downright silly as Michael Fabricant’s hair. If you’re a bit of a dick then sure, work on that.
This year I am not setting resolutions or attempting change, but instead am focusing on bringing a sense of routine back into my life. I am the kind of person who needs a bedtime, who needs a schedule and who would cry full on fat salty tears if her diary went missing. I am also full to the brim with excuses and I’ve been riding on the Christmas one since…July.
Go to bed and wake up at the same time every day
My body needs a good 9 hours sleep per night
Get back into the gym, but not for the #fitspo
Because I want to feel better in my own skin. I’ve actively unfollowed all the Instagram accounts that make me feel guilty when I eat pasta for dinner four days in a row and I am slowly learning to love and appreciate my body the way it is. I do however actually enjoy exercise (not cardio, cardio can die) and for me it’s one of the best forms of therapy. Life is all about balance. Go to the gym, and order pizza on the way home.
100% attendance for my final ever (!!) term at university
Currently my registers look like a missing persons file
Be more selfish
I need to learn to say no when I don’t want to do something, and in turn cherish the opportunities I do run with be it socially or career-orientated. See ya later FOMO
Books are good for the soul but I seem to have traded my nighttime reading for a scroll on social media
Happy New Year you beautiful people; may it be filled with love, laughter and light. Until next year! B x
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Photography: Chloe Ely