I stood peering into my bedroom, observing the things around
me. I didn’t get much chance to do this – always busy! You must be able to
relate to that feeling.
In front of
me was my bed. Above is a beautiful painting that my Grandma had given me. She
is a talented woman. It was painted using oil paints of a landscape with warm
colours blended intricately. It had me pondering when I had received this, how
a woman could be so gifted when at one point she would never have been
recognised or accepted in the art world because of her gender. I went to see my
Grandma Tuesday; she was telling me what it was like when she was growing up.
I laid on
the bed, after a long day at Uni the last thing I felt like doing was picking
the clothes up off the floor. Next to my bed is
my dressing table. It is shocking how much time girls spend getting ready. The
amount of make-up and fake tan that is sprawled out is ridiculous. I’d feel
naked without it, and really conscious that someone would be looking at me. It
reminds me of a book I read called: The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf. It’s about
how images of beauty are used against women. Grandma said they never had to
bother wearing make-up.
I reached
over to get the T.V remote. I turned it
on to the music channels. We take having a television in the house for granted;
my Grandma never had one growing up. I listen to R&B and watch T.V a lot; I
think I’d feel lost without it although she did say that they used to entertain
themselves. I got up and started to dance pretending the remote was my
microphone. One thing that I hate about T.V today; is the women that are
half-naked and perceived to be beautiful. Maybe it’s
the media that’s done this to women?
Feeling
thirsty, I grabbed the can of Coke off my bedside table, still swaying to the
end of the song when I spilt the coke on the rug! I quickly grabbed the nearest
top and tried to rub it out of the carpet, I was failing though! I gave up and
just sat there. Now it’s ruined! Probably better used as a doormat now! Thinking about that, it reminded
me of what happened today. Anya, one of my friends is such a gorgeous
girl, lovely tall legs and dazzling smile – any woman would love to look like
her. She’s been seeing this guy on and off for the past two years. She was
upset this morning; he had told her that she was a pathetic, weak, doormat. I
have no idea how he thinks he can treat her like this; he’s made her feel like
she tiny and worthless. Fuck him! – look where she is, at University obtaining
a degree! Men like that just make me angry! Anyway I’m getting tired, suppose I
will have to catch up later…
'Diary from an Ordinary Girl' 2012
I stood peering into my bedroom, with my clothes tangled at
my feet; observing the things around me. I didn’t get much chance to do this –
always busy! You must be able to relate to that feeling.
In front of
me is my single bed, with a striking pink bed cover. Above is a beautiful
painting that my Grandma had given me. She is a very talented woman. It was
painted using oil paints of a landscape with warm colours blended together
intricately. It had me pondering when I had received this, how a woman could be
so gifted when at one point she would never have been recognised or accepted in
the art world because of her gender. I went to see my Grandma yesterday; I was fascinated
as she was telling me what it was like when she was growing up during the
1950s.
I lay on the
bed and stared around. After a long day at Uni the last thing I felt like doing
was picking up the clothes off the floor. To the right of my bed is my dressing
table. It is shocking how much girls spend getting ready. The amount of
make-up, fake tan, fake eyelashes that are sprawled out on my dressing table is
ridiculous. I’d feel naked if I went out without it though and really conscious
that someone will be looking at me. It reminds me of a book I read a while back
called: The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf. It’s about how Images of beauty are used
against women. I guess I’ll never understand why. Grandma said they didn’t have
to bother wearing a full face of make-up when she was my age, although she did
use vinegar to make her hair shiny – I will have to try this to see if it
works!
I reach over
to grab the Television Remote. Turn it
on, to see it’s already on the music channels. Again I am reminded about what
my Grandma was saying. We take having a television in the house for granted; my
Grandma never had one growing up. I listen to R&B and watch T.V a lot; I
think I’d feel lost without it although she did say that they used to entertain
themselves. She even read Shakespeare’s books, to keep occupied. I remember
having to read them through secondary school - I could never understand them. I
get up and start to dance pretending the remote is my microphone. There is one
thing that I hate about T.V and music videos today is the women back up dancers
that are wearing next to nothing with cleavage and everything on show. Now
that’s answered my thoughts from earlier as to why women feel under pressure to
look their best these days, when this is plastered on the T.V.
Feeling
thirsty, I grasp the can of Diet Coke off my bedside table, still swaying to
the end of the song, in my own little world, as the coke accidently spills onto
the rug!... I quickly grab the nearest already worn top and try and rub it out
of the carpet, looks like I’m failing though! I give up and just sit on the
rug. Now it’s ruined, I suppose I could use it as a doormat now. Having just
thought that it recapped my memory of what happened today. Anya, one of my
close friends is such a gorgeous girl, lovely tall legs and dazzling smile –
any woman would dream to look like her. She has been seeing this guy on and off
for the past two years. She was very upset this morning she said he told her
that she was a pathetic, weak, doormat. Although I don’t see anyone else
walking all over her apart from him! I have no idea how he thinks he can treat
her like this and get away with it, he’s made her feel like she is so tiny and
not worthy. I would say fuck him – look where she is – at University obtaining
a degree and has a great life ahead of her. Men like that just make me angry –
she doesn’t need someone bringing her down like that!!
I get up and
open the window for some fresh air. I am unbearably tired, suppose I will have
to catch up later…
'A diary from an Ordinary Girl' 2012 (Draft)
I was stood peering into my
bedroom, with my clothes tangled at my feet; observing the things around me. I
don’t get much chance to do this – always busy and things to do! You must be
able to relate to that feeling.
In front of me is my single bed, with a striking pink bed
cover. It’s just big enough for myself but that is all I need. Above the bed is
a beautiful painting that my Grandma had given me. She is a very talented,
lovely woman. It was painted using oil paints, with warm, creamy colours
blended together intricately, with lots of texture applied to the painting. It
was of a peaceful landscape not far from here. Must have been an early autumn’s
day, as the leaves in the foreground are a lovely vibrant golden brown. It had
me pondering when I had received this, how a woman could be so gifted when at
one point she would never have been recognised or accepted in the art world
because of her gender.
I lay on the bed. Just stared around for a bit. After a long
day at University the last thing I felt like doing was picking up the clothes
off the floor, or even attempting to create some kind of order and organization
in the room. I can smell the margarita pizza cooking in the oven drifting up
the stairs, whilst my belly starts rumbling.
To the right of my bed is my dressing table. It shocking how
much girls my age today spend getting ready – well guys probably do to. But the
amount of make-up, fake tan, fake eyelashes that are sprawled out on the table is ridiculous. It
reminds me of a book I read a while back called: The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf.
It’s about how Images of beauty are used against women. I guess I’ll never
understand why.
I reach over to grab the Television Remote. Turn it on, to see it’s already on the music
channels. Number One in the top 40 this week and I love it, been listening to
this song all day. I listen to R&B on a regular basis. I get up and start
to dance pretending the remote is my microphone. There is one thing that
baffles me is the women dancing half naked in the music video, it really does
spoil the song, I best invest in an Ipod that way I wouldn’t have to see this.
Now that’s answered my thoughts from earlier as to why women feel under
pressure to look their best, when this is plastered on the T.V.
Feeling thirsty, I grasp the can of Diet Coke off my bedside
table, still swaying to the end of the song, in my own little world. I then
accidently spill it on my new rug! Nooo... I quickly grab the nearest already
worn top and try and rub it out of the carpet, looks like I’m failing though! I
give up and just sit on the rug. I do love that rug and now it’s ruined, I
suppose I could use it as a doormat now, if it’s no use in here. Having just
thought that it recapped my memory of what happened today. Anya, one of my
close friends is such a gorgeous girl, lovely tall legs and dazzling smile –
any woman would dream to look like her. She has been seeing this guy on and off
for the past two years. I wouldn’t say he was right for her, always messing her
around, one minute wanting her and the next not. He’s the type of dominating
guy that can’t decide what he wants, although if he doesn’t want her than no
other can have her. She was very upset this morning she said he told her that
she was a pathetic, weak, doormat that needed to grow a back bone. I have no
idea how he thinks he can treat her like this and get away with it, he’s made
her feel like she is so tiny and not worthy. I would say fuck him – look where
she is – at University obtaining a degree and has a great life ahead of her. Grr..
Men like that make me angry!!
Oh God – The smoke alarm is going off now! – I think my
pizza must be ready! Haha… I get up and rush out the door, slamming the door
behind me.
'Daughter's Bedroom' 2012 (Draft)
9.30pm and Lauren was still not home from dancing. Lauren
had been attending dance classes and performing in shows since she was four
years old. I had signed her up at stagecoach where she would learn to sing,
dance and act. I thought that it would be a good idea to help her gain more
confidence. I remember picking her up after her lessons had finished, always
such a happy child, her gorgeous smile, with lovely long red hair that almost
reached her hips; she giggled away showing me what she had learnt that lesson –
she loved it. Back then I never knew what damage it would have brought her
fifteen years later.
I often come to sit in her room while she it out. I will lie on the bed staring around,
reminiscing the days when she was a child. I had been living in this house
since 3 months after I found out I was pregnant with Lauren. I never knew back
then what it would be like being a single mum.
The stares, the snide remarks and the constant questions on who that
father was. I always felt as though they saw me as a whore and a slut who
didn’t have a clue who the father was – but of course I did – He just chose to
not have anything to do with her however, he’s the one that has missed out.
We proved everyone wrong… we was a team, it was always me
and her. I didn’t want to burden her with the emotional baggage of the highs
and lows of an unhappy relationship. It would just be the two of us and a
supporting cast of extended family. I did find it hard to get a job. I applied
for anything going: café, bar, retail work.
I suppose I will never know if they discriminated me for being a single
mum. I did eventually find a job; it was in a little coffee shop, just up the
high street. I did enjoy it there and it did just bring in that extra bit of
money.
I get up to peer out the window. Still no sign of her,
walking up the road. I sigh. I then sit at her dressing table, pick her brush
up and start brushing my hair staring at my own reflection looking back at
me. Looking at Lauren I can see the
resemblance of me, same hair, same eyes…
You’re probably thinking why I feel so apprehensive,
worrying where she is. After all she is a nineteen year old, young woman. It all started 3 years previously, after
turning 16 she moved dance school for young adults. She started coming home and
refusing to eat her dinner. At first I didn’t see this as a problem. Until I
noticed it had got progressively worse, I started finding mouldy, stinking food
stuffed under her bed. I had noticed when her friends came round that they were
also so tiny, their faces even looked so drained. I once confronted her about
this but she just got angry and snapped at me. Apparently you have to look like
this to be a professional dancer. I was
just worried about her health.
The phone rings, I sit as my heart sinks, I then rush to the
phone...