Shouting At Cosmopolitan. Again.

It's that time of the month again; when I finally get around to reading the Cosmo magazine I bought three weeks ago. And yes, you're right. I am procrastinating from English revision. I usually don't really have an issue with any of the articles Cosmo prints - although there are always flaws depending on your opinion. How ever one page in this months issue really ticked me of, and it is called "Expert Toning Tips For...", sub-headed 'We've got the best exercises for your body shape." This then followed by a series of photos of slightly 'deformed' Barbies and notes on their body type, and how to change it. 
There's a rather large myriad of issues here. For one, the use of Barbies, a brand known for showing an even more unachievable female body image than Disney. Then there's the fact that they've been photoshopped to appear wrong, when they actually appear to just look like normal women (or as normal as a photoshopped Barbie can get). This seems to present the idea that none of these body types; apple, boyish, busty, pear or hourglass are acceptable and need to be changed. Fast, before any men look at you. It's almost like we need to have the body of a plastic doll to be allowed. The only one which seems to get away with existing is the hourglass, but even then the article suggests that you need to put more work in to stay "firm". I've still never worked out why 'firm' is desirable. It sounds like if you gave them a hug, they'd be hard as a board. (Get your mind out of the gutter, there's only room for one and I got here first.)
Oh Cosmo. You've been doing so well recently. Maybe not so much in this issue. I didn't take to the list of examples why females bosses are all bitches too well either, however excited you are for the Revenge Wears Prada film. 

I was wondering weather or not I should enter Cosmo's blog competition. Maybe not, after this. I don't think I'd win.

This Is Procrastination

I am currently a gremlin in a reversal of evolution. My room looks like a highly poetic hermit has moved into it. The floor is now entirely made up of mugs, biros and post it notes. Revision is setting in, hard. Over the last few weeks, I've watched teachers stop begging for essay to be handed in, and start drowning under small mountains of them. I've gone from being the student who often forgets homework (and usually does it badly) to the student who follows teachers around going "HAVE YOU MARKED THAT MOCK YET?! HAVE YOU?! DO IT NOW. LET ME WATCH."
I've found a website called Coffitivity which plays the noise of a coffee shop while you work, which is making me a little bit saner. My caffeine intake has gone down by half since the ladies who work the snack bar refused to sell me tea due to how wrecked my dinner card is. I quite like coffee shops, but tend to avoid them as much as possible due to how bloody expensive the tea is. In the 1920's, a cup of tea would usually cost you around 5d, which converts to around 45p in modern money. I realize that inflation rates are much different now, but I'm an English student, and I find counting hard. Even so, this is a drastic difference, when last time I was in Costa, a pot of tea (two small cups) cost £1.70. Even in Berlin where the tea was slightly wank, the it only cost around 80p. Hum hum hum. I would be grateful if the Government stopped coming up with silly new taxes for five minutes and instead capped the price of tea. I am poor and cannot afford it (unless I make a flask of it to carry around, but as if I'd ever be that organised.) 
I think my favorite change in school routine over the last few weeks, is how much the teachers are coping with our, frankly, awful language. In English today, it became acceptable to yell "This child is a goddamn bag of dicks" very early on. With the announcement of a timed mock, it is now fine to just scream "NO" for several minutes straight. I'm not sure if it's a mark that the teachers are just as frustrated as we are, or if they could, actually, possibly, be sad at us leaving. I like to think it''s a little bit of both. I know I'll miss them. The last week has been a series of "Right, how much cake do we want in our last lesson?" and plans for who's going to bring in Articulate. I've had the lady who helps me run LGBT society run across the front of school to give me a hug and tell me I have to come in after exams for "A real party. With biscuits."
It's all just getting very... end-y.

Moving Swiftly On

So I've finished the challenge and I didn't starve to death. My uncle owes me a fiver. I fully admit that I stayed up till midnight on Friday just so I could eat some cake. And yes, I realize that many people my age stay up much later than midnight on a Friday, but bugger them, I'll have good skin when I'm old. We raised £130 overall, which is so great. Feel free to keep donating, everything closes on the 30th of June, so there's a little way to go.
It's great to be able to eat normally again, although it's taking a little getting used to. Mum handed me a piece of chocolate earlier, and for a while I didn't know what to do with it. I had a very strong need to save it, and squirrel it away in case I needed it later. 

It's been a blissfully nice day, and I've spent most of it lounging in various garden, appreciating some real sunshine. For a while I attempted to revise outside, which didn't go too well.

Books do not make good pillows. The cats, at least, have been enjoying themselves, and spent most of the day treading on me in bid to find some nice shade.

I also got to go and see the lovely Henning Wehn tonight, a rather fab German stand up comedian  He is part of my effort to see everyone who has ever appeared on a BBC, left wing, news based, comedy panel show. He was very good. Although I found it interesting that the audience roared with laughter through joked about holocaust denial and racism  but as soon as he pretended to cry, everyone got a bit awkward. I think this proves that the British can cope with offensiveness quite well, but we shut down at the first sign of emotion.

Nearly The End Day 4: Below The Line

There's one day left and I'd happily kill a man for a banana.
I find it interesting that I haven't really craved chocolate at all this week, it's been things like cheese, and fruit, and cereal. Normal, basic stuff. What I'd really like to make tomorrow is a north American fruit parfait, with strawberries, banana and vanilla yogurt. 
One day left. Stephie is making red velvet cake for English, and I shall be taking my slice home, and then laughing and smearing it into my face at midnight. 
Fun times. 
It's been a good day. It's been warm and lovely, so we sat outside and I got a good grade on one of my mock exams. 
Good day.

Halfway There, Day 3: Below The Line

I went shopping today. At nine in the evening to the local Coop, to see if there was anything they were trying to get rid of before it went past it's sell by date. I had 49p left, out of my original five pounds. I could have bought one Muller yogurt (27p) or a can of baked beans (42p) or a second jar of jam (35p). In the end I think I chose wisely. I used 44p.

I don't really know what to do with them. Before I would have gobbled the whole lot down in about six seconds, but now all I can think is ihavebiscuitsihavebiscuitsihavebiscuits. They're great. After staring at the for about half an hour, I finally had four, with a cup of tea. It was better than being given a foot massage by God. But now I only have two days left, and suddenly it all seems quite easy. There's not much time left, it's the home stretch. School is still hard, but now I can take custard creams along with my jam sandwiches along with my carrot sticks, and it seems rather more doable. I know I'll be able to come home to tea and biscuits, and it all seems rather more inviting. I have plenty of porridge oats and pasta left, and enough for two days kidney beans and sweetcorn. There's also quite a staggering amount of soup, for three carrots, two parsnips, a turnip and an onion. This is okay, I can do this. I have biscuits. And jam.

I have decided I'm not going to my after school Drama lesson tomorrow. Even with biscuits  it just all seems too much. Too long a day on a tiny lunch. The evenings are fine, there's loads then. It's just the rest of the day which is exhausting. The monotony of having the same food every single day yet hasn't hit - I think I've been too busy going Food! Gimmiegimmiegimmie! to notice that it's the same thing I had the day before, and the day before that. I'm far too busy being grateful. And growling at anyone who comes within five feet of any pans I'm using (sorry Mum). 

I found out this morning that we have a bank holiday on Monday, which means that this weekend will be a solid, three day cake fest. I plan on going into town, and burning myself up in a very expensive coffee shop, laughing manically, then sobbing into a mocha and going home to desperately make more porridge. 

Please carry on donating, we're at £125 at the moment, and it would be great if we could make it to £200 by the end of the week. 
Many thanks, see you tomorrow!

PS I added a new blog to my blogroll, my lovely friend Jojo, a very wonderful lady spoon carver. (She's a lady who carves spoons, not someone who carves lady spoons.)