DollyHollishWords…

Hello you lovely lot! I’m feeling rather excited this morning, and I think it’s due to me starting a new blog. Yeah, that’s a thing now. To keep it short and simple, I’ve decided to make a new one dedicated to creative writing and all things bookish! I love literature, and I thought the short stories I had written didn’t really fit with the general theme of my blog. I’ll still post often on here, but I’m feeling good about this whole thing! If you want to have a little peek, my domain is ‘dollyhollishwords.wordpress.com’

Love, Holly.

Breast Battles… (Maybe?)

Hello! After not writing for ages (exams, yada yada) this feels very strange and foreign. But Exciting! YAY FOR BLOGGING! Anyway, the post title may have caught your attention a little, and to be honest I don’t really blame you. Boobs and all things breast related are somewhat treated as taboo, we’re not to go near the subject. Which is bad. I think we need to acknowledge these things, and spread as much body positivity as possible. I have (objectively) quite a large pair for my age, in comparison to my friends, anyway. I’m not sure why, but I want to discuss this and feel comfortable talking about it. I’m very conflicted between being a happy, curvy lady and feeling utterly self conscious and wanting to wrap myself in a blanket. The struggle is real. I might make this a little series and stuff, but for today I’ll tell you some of my boob woes. Lol.

1) Running. Jesus, it’s like having two melons hanging from your neck! As you can guess, rather uncomfortable.

2) This brings me on to my next point, boob holders! AKA bras. The bigger they are, the less cute, and the more expensive. Grrrr… Also, the under wire of mine always tends to stick out, thus stabbing me for the day. Regular sports bras are useless, you may as well being using cling film…

3) The uni-boob. This is particularly noticeable when wearing jumpers and baggy clothes. On me, I lose all definition and look like a sausage fresh out of the oven, wrapped in some Yorkshire pud. Damn.

4) Yet, when it’s summer and I should be stripping off the layers, I can’t help but be very, very aware of myself.

5) This is largely due to cat callers. I mean, do they expect people to turn around and swoon after them? A friend and I, Nicole, have developed a system to deal with this. We turn round, thrust our chins back (creating about 20 more) and pull the ugliest face possible. It annoys me that we even have had to formulate this technique, but it gets the job done.

6) Being a hermit. You know some tall people that hunch over? Well, they’re making up for not being the “normal size”. They get looked at enough already, so they try to minimize their size. WE DO THAT TOO! Or at least I do haha. I’m always saying to myself “c’mon, be confident, shoulders back!” While I want to be, I actually tend to look more the a hunchback, trying to hide my self. If I stand tall, I feel like I’m “putting it about”. Which is the most silly thing.

7) Usually, I’d be a size 10-12. Averagely in the middle, nothing here nor there, really. Well, that would be the case, except my chest means I actually have to wear some clothes up to a size 16! Which generally results in a feeling of frumpiness and never ever wanting to look in a mirror again. EVER.

These are just a couple of the things I could think of, but I would like to point out (scream at you really), THIS IS NOT ALL. BREASTS ARE GREAT AND WE SHOULD ALL BE VERY PROUD OF WHATEVER BODY SHAPE WE HAVE BEEN GIVEN. Also, there are plenty of great things about being a little larger, which I shall also write about, and hopefully I can keep up the discussion a little.

Let me know your thoughts 🙂 (Yes, both male and female welcome! Heck, whatever gender you want to be, don’t let me define you! As long as you are respectful, not creepy and considerate! I think it’s interesting to have different perspectives on issues)

Holly

x

Saying Yes, Spero meliora

Being an introvert, with some degree of social anxiety, means saying yes to things can sometimes be difficult. I’ve gotten better recently, but I used to say no to everything. Partly out of fear of failure, low self confidence or simply wanting to be alone, but I’m working on it. And to me, the only way to work on it (that seems logical) is to start grabbing life by the horns and taking people up on opportunists that come my way. For the sheer balls tingle of it, in the words of Leena Normington.

I want to work in musical theatre, and if you’ve ever spoken to me for even a minute, I’m sure you’ll know that… But for the past year I’ve felt somewhat overshadowed by friends, and not good enough at theatre because of this. I know, I know, it’s a vicious circle, but I’m working on it. I’d been looking at this Audition for a while, it’s Shakespeare to be performed in January, Abington manor (pictured below). Shakespeare’s granddaughter lived and died here, being a history buff this is basically my dream. I phoned the guy up, booked my audition, and it’s actually on my birthday! Whatever may come of it, it will certainly be a great experience.

A) I love Shakespeare, and B) it’s like a 30 minute walk from my house. Perfect!

NMG_location_image_2

Secondly, I was asked if I would be interested in attending a summer school in Buckingham. It’s to study Les Miserables (my all time favourite musical) for 7 days, and then put on a performance on a west end stage on the final night! HOW AMAZING! I truly, truly hope for a bit of good luck and fortune. I sent off my application today, and we can only hope! Its so beautiful…

summerskl

summerskl2

I know I haven’t even fully secured these things yet, but I’m happy that I am trying. I recently searched my family coat of arms, and the “battle cry” that came along with mine was ‘Spero meliora.’ From what I can gather, it means “I hope for better things”/”I aspire for better things.” Which, to me, is nothing short of true. I’m excited, hopeful and ultimately taking the plunge by just saying Yes.

Holly

The guilty pencil

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Guilt that Haunts Me.”

When I was little, maybe 7 or 8, I stole a pencil. Even saying it now makes me feel riddled with guilt…

Me? Steal?! I mean technically, I didn’t even steal it, it was a “take any pencil you like” box, but still. I took the blue pencil with orange hands on it, and I went to sleep. Not only did I wake up several times during the night, but I came into school early (a major commitment for 8 year old me), just to put it back.

I would make a truly awful burglar…

First boyfriends and sicky love notes

This morning, my 8 year old sister poked her head around my door, and said “Holly! Guess what I’ve found!!!” I expected maybe a flower or a bracelet that she’d forgotten about, but no. She, came baring love letters that my brother had hidden under his bed. It was one of those “100 things I love about you” type things, and memories of my first “boyfriends” came flooding back to me. Lets be clear though… When I say boyfriend, I mean an elected male who would bob up and down with me at school discos and maybe give me some gum if I was feeling extra saucy.

Devaun

Devaun and I had a bit of a ‘sugar daddy’ relationship if I’m honest. Unhealthy I know, but he bought me a Disney Princess doll for my birthday and if that doesn’t count as true love, it don’t know what will. One day on the playground he just stood and puckered out his lips. Now, myself and my best friend were nothing short of risqué (at age 6) and we both ran past him and gave him a little peck one right after the other! Lucky sod…

Ryan

In my tiny little primary school, there was 14 girls in a class, and one boy. Poor, poor Ryan… Looking back it was sort of savage the way we clawed for him, but you know what it’s like girls… Being denied testosterone can do all sorts of things to you. Anyway. We would all “take turns” with him, but myself, Georgina and Danielle were his favourites, I reckon. I (very quickly) was taken off of this list, as I had accidentally wiped my bloody knee on the back of his shirt when he was sat on the floor. YOUR LOSS, RYAN! Being madly, wildly in love with him (may I remind you, again, age 10) I set out on my mission of sabotage. Not only had I been outdone by these two girls, but he bought them playboy necklaces and I simply was not having any of it. My plan for sabotage was to put a note in to one of their trays saying that they had been dumped, but fate smiled upon me and saved me the dirty work. All the girls crowded around Georgina’s tray, to see if Ryan had put any love notes in, and lo and behold he had.

“Dear Georgina,

Your hair looks like sick

Love, Ryan”

Admittedly, he had meant to say ‘silk’ but this was justice enough for me. We eventually rekindled our burning flame of love, and he stole a cup of tea for me during a school fete. Romance at it’s height. This continued for maybe half a year (STILL 11) but the thing that really tipped me over the edge was his love for salt and vinegar crisps… I leave that open to your interpretation…

Holly

Creative writing: Darker days

I laugh, and I smile. I give the answers I’m supposed to give. I live.

Ironically, I feel like… Death. My bones, chiselled out of stone pull me closer and closer towards the ground, which I will inevitably be sprawled upon at some point during the day. My blood runs thick with exhaustion, my breath heavy with the weight of fatigue that seems to mystify the glass which separates me from others who claim to be living. My eyelids droop, certainly without the promise of making the return journey.

Death is not glamorous. Death is not the poetic bullshit you see on tumblr. Thin girls brooding, cigarettes hanging out of their mouth. Death is not the tranquillity that one might think of when idle minds wonder towards the bigger questions in life… God, Religion, existence…

Death.

Death is none of these things.

Death, is simply

;


Just a little creative writing at 12PM. As per usual:) Quite dark but I very much enjoyed writing this!

Holly

How to survive A levels (for lazy people)

I am not lazy. I tell myself as I continue to watch Netflix, seeing my grades slip all the way down the stairs, out the window and eventually into the bin. I know I shouldn’t even be writing this post, and further procrastinating, but here are my tips on how to survive A levels. Sorta.

1. Forget about sleep!

Lazy people don’t have time to sleep, everyone knows that! After putting of work for weeks, you’ve desperately tried to get it all done a few hours before the deadline, am I right? I’ve been there, we’ve all been there. Admittedly, I’ve been there a few more times than I would have liked, but you just gotta get used to it. I would even suggest throwing your sleep schedule out before school, just to make you extra prepared. I mean, it would be cruel and illusory for you to trick your body into thinking you will be getting 8+ hours of sleep a night, wouldn’t it? Sleep is a luxury, among MANY other things, that you simply won’t be able to afford.

2. Just read the god damn book…

I’m studying English literature, a fairly large course, and can you believe that I haven’t even fully read one of the books that I’m going to be sitting an exam on in 2 weeks? Me neither. I hate myself for it, and I’ve had to re-read it in total about four times because of this. Just read the stupid thing, and get it done. I’M BEGGING YOU.

3. ‘Hobo Friday’ everyday.

At my school, we have this thing called hobo Friday. The basic principle is that you’ve dressed nice all week, but Friday is just so close to the weekend that its a little more acceptable to be sloppy. I know, it’s gross, but greasy hair is also acceptable on hobo Friday. All is fair in love, war and hobo Friday. However, being lazy means that hobo Friday isn’t just limited to Friday, but is applicable to any day that ends in ‘ay’… It’s great if you’re a lazy little bum like me. A) Comfy clothes all the time, and B) nobody is expecting you to be good looking! A win – win situation if you ask me…

4. Get used to prison food.

Everyone knows that school dinners are quite comparable to prison food, but you’re just going to have to like it or lump it when it comes to it. Yes, I could be eating avocados and a finely chopped gourmet salad, but I could also have an extra 20 minutes hiding under my duvet. Sloppy brown stuff it is then… (If you’re feelin’ extra fancy, a £3 meal deal is always a good shout.)

5. Get good at BS’ing.

I, am the Queen of BS. I’m extremely proud of that title, and I must say, it’s a well earned one. If you’re not going to analyse all of the texts or spend hours doing essay questions, this is quite a skill to have. Like the time when I wrote a whole exam referencing completely made up people. Like the time I got an A on an essay that I didn’t even know the title to. Like the time that I passed all of my GCSEs! In fairness, GCSES were complete and utter BS, so that worked out quite well for me!

If all else fails, stare at this picture of the god that is Ryan Gosling. If this can’t motivate you, I’m afraid you’re doomed, my friend.

the god

Holly