Ten things (most) girls love that get better in your twenties

This is a ‘does what in says on the tin’ type blog post. It’s a list of ten things (most) girls love that get better in your twenties. Not everyone’s list will be the same, this is just mine and my mates really..

When you’re younger you don’t appreciate the healing powers of a bubble bath. You’d rather get home from school or college, shower (if you bother at all, let’s face it) as quickly as possible so you can go out with your mates. Hit your twenties and you’ll start day dreaming about that bubble bath you’re going to have as soon as you step in the front door.


Young people who ‘live for the weekend’ are in the wrong job (or no job at all, cheers Tories!). The weekend makes up less than a third of the week, when you reach your twenties (and have a quarter life crisis) you realise that if you’re constantly looking forward to the weekend then you’re missing out on a lot of living. My advice, go out on a school night, don’t stop until you find a job you love, make everyday count.


Reading is an escape. It has the power to change your emotions. This blog is all about navigating what can be a really confusing and uncomfortable time in your life, your twenties. One of the best ways to take yourself away from the pressures of figuring your entire future out is to live in someone else’s world, just for a little while. Reading is educational. It has the power to change your perspective. This blog is all about navigating what can be a really confusing and uncomfortable time in your life, your twenties. One of the best ways to figure out your twenties is to figure out what you like (and what you don’t like) and the rawest way to do that is to know a little bit about everything.


Sex when you’re a teenager is usually pretty fucking awkward. But, as with most things, the more experienced you get, the more you discover what you like and dislike and by the time you hit your twenties you’ll (hopefully) have taken control of your sex life. ITS. THE. BEST. FEELING.

Periods (okay, so most girls don’t love this one)

This one’s a bit shit because most girls don’t usually love this at any point in their lives, at all, ever. But, on the whole, periods do get easier with age. When I was in school I’d have at least two days off a month because of fucking period cramps or heavy bleeding, the older I get the more I understand what I need to get myself through the week. Except PMS, I can still be an absolute, psycho bitch (but maybe that’s just me).

Exercise (or this one)

I love exercise. Those are three words I never thought I’d see form a sentence but its true, I do. When you’re younger the only exercise you do (unless you’re well sporty) is the exercise you’re forced to do in PE lessons twice a week. It’s shit. You worry about what your trainers look like to other people, you worry about sweating and then having to spend the next five hours sitting in your own sweat studying Pythagoras theorem and you worry about what your tits look like when you’re running after that rounders ball you failed to catch. When you hit your twenties though, exercise becomes optional, it becomes an excuse to listen to your favourite bands for an hour, it becomes the only way of justifying that pizza you’re going to eat later on.

Nights In

ALL. THE. PAMPER. The moment you realise that going out every chance you get isn’t the be all and end all, that it’s okay to not make plans, say no to plans, cancel plans, is the moment your life becomes 100% more enjoyable. The pressures of being a social butterfly, especially in your twenties, are huge. Yes you should socialise, you should go to parties, you should go to gigs, you should go down the pub but you should spend time with yourself. Sunday showers are my thing. A long, hot shower with expensive shampoo, shave your legs, exfoliate and moisturise, paint your nails and read trashy blogs (looking at myself here) in your sports bra.


If you’re reading this you’re probably already in your twenties, you know what I’m about to say about wine. We love it because it’s versatile. You can drink it with/without food, during the afternoon/evening (maybe, sometimes..), with friends or with yourself, by the bottle or by the glass. Pick a favourite wine + always have favourite wine in your house = navigating your twenties.

Nights Out

Yes I know that I just said nights in get better in your twenties but so do nights out. They become rarer, you don’t get smashed every weekend but when you do they’re the best nights out of your life. Getting ready to go out with my friends, dancing on the stage of a club to all the 90s music, stumbling to a kebab shop and waking up hungover, in bed with my bestfriends in the whole world.


Speaking of friends, the hands down most important thing that gets better in your twenties is your friendships. You make new ones at uni who become your biggest influence, you keep those after uni. You make new ones in your work life, they are sometimes the only reason you get through the day. But the most important friendships are the ten year long ones, the ones that’ve helped you navigate life since you were thirteen, the ones that will help you navigate your twenties through everything. Through divorce, exams, weddings, breakups, interviews, death and pregnancies those ten year long friendships are the loves of my life and that’s how I’ll navigate my twenties.



Six flaws my body has (and why I really don’t care)

Okay so as cliche as this sounds everyone, and I mean everyone, has physical flaws. Sometimes these flaws are professionally diagnosed, sometimes these flaws are dictated by society and sometimes these flaws are self-proclaimed. This post isn’t a ‘you’re a strong, beautiful woman who’s worth more than what she looks like (even though you defo are) so get over your flaws, don’t talk about your insecurities, stop being a bad role model’ type post. We are all 100% allowed to occasionally feel shit about our flaws BUT we gotta remember that they do not define who you are as a person, how the people who care about you look at you, how much happiness you deserve in life and how much of an absolute fucking #girlboss you are. So below is a list of some of my flaws; professionally diagnosed, dictated by society and self-proclaimed alike! And why I really (really, really) don’t care.



Okay so let’s just get this one out of the way cause we all know we’re here to talk about fat and stretch marks. I had a tiny mole on my forehead and it started getting very big, very quickly. Long story short I had it frozen and the Doc said, ‘it’ll take about two weeks to fall off’ which is fine except… he did not say it would grow four times as fucking big as it ever has been. Reason I really don’t care? I’m totally grateful it didn’t need surgery and also, the NHS is an absolute babe.


Right, we’re getting to the good stuff. I have cellulite, probably more than some people and less than others. Cellulite is one body flaw that I can genuinely say I’ve never been that arsed about, I don’t think I’m even sure what it is? It’s just looks like bumpy/dimply doesn’t it? Reason I really don’t care? Obviously I have no idea if this is true so don’t quote me on it but… isn’t there some physical difference between men and women which means that women are waaay more prone to cellulite anyway? And I am a woman so, yeah.


When I was a baby I had chicken pox and, despite apparently being made to wear socks on my hands to stop myself picking at my spots, I picked at them anyway and alas I have a couple of cute scars on my face. Reason I really don’t care? My mum and dad used to have a picture of me in a stripped all in one on the fridge with Scarface written across it and they love telling me that story. Me = provider of happiness since 1994.


So I used to be about four stone heavier (& I’m a size 14 right now so you can imagine). BUT I lost that four stone by running and squatting and eating healthy(ish). I guess cause I’d stretched my body and then shrunk it I have some stretch marks on my stomach, arms and boobs. They’re not the most severe I’ve ever seen but they’re definitely noticeable. Reason I really don’t care? I worked my freaking arse off to lose that weight and my stretch marks are a symbol of perseverance and self-love.


Obviously, as a size 14 occasional lover of wine, takeaways and chocolate, I have fat. Fat is a tough one. It’s like I want to tell you I’m 102% always totally comfortable in my own skin but at the same time I don’t want to lie to ya. Sometimes your body just really gets you down and you feel all self-conscious and sad and you swear you’re going to eat nothing but salad and fruit and run five times next week but then you order a takeaway and watch Vampire Diaries and it’s all totally cool again. So yeah, reasons why I don’t usually care? I like wine, takeaways and chocolate. I’ve lost a lot of fat before so it’s all in my control. There are worse thing I could be (you can thank Rizzo for that piece of inspiring writing).


Right okay, I’m not entirely satisfied with my ‘perkiness’ level. It’s like I’m 22 and they’re 32 if you know what I mean. Reason I really don’t care? I’m busy. Like if I didn’t have friends I adore to spend time with, if I didn’t have a list as long as my arm of books I want to read, if I hadn’t spent the last six years in further education and if I wasn’t working, volunteering and blogging to educate young people, get Jezza elected and empower gals then I would probably, just about care. But, I really (really, really) don’t.


What sleeping with (six) different people taught me

We still live in a society where male sexuality is something to be celebrated and female sexuality is something to be ashamed of. Where men watching porn is normal and women watching porn is dirty. Where guys are ‘studs’ and girls are ‘sluts’. Where male orgasms are more important than female orgasms. It’s SO important that young girls know that it’s okay to have (and talk about) safe, consensual, pleasurable sex.

End slut shaming

I’m twenty two and I’ve slept with three six people, I don’t know why I wrote three, that’s a lie. I’d only slept with two people until the age of twenty one so in the last ten months I’ve slept with four people. I’ve (hopefully) never been a girl who judges other girls on their sex lives, I’m a firm believer in doing whatever the hell you want with your body, but I also never thought I’d have as many sexual partners as I’ve had. I associated sex with feelings and probably assumed everyone else did too – turns out, they (and I) don’t. Sex isn’t the same for everyone and sex isn’t the same with everyone.

Number one

I slept with number one when I was sixteen, he was my boyfriend of around two years. I never felt any pressure to have sex from him, it probably helped that he was a virgin too so neither of us knew what we were doing. He taught me that although losing your virginity is never as pleasurable as it seems in films and books, if you do it when you’re ready and with someone you trust, it isn’t the most painful, terrifying, humiliating moment of your life either.

Number two

I slept with number two around four months after breaking up with my first boyfriend. I slept with number two pretty soon into our relationship, which turned out to be my longest relationship to date. In the year before our relationship ended number two, consciously or unconsciously, made me feel insanely insecure about my body. He struggled to cum inside me and told me it was because I was ‘loose’, I put on weight and he told me he didn’t find me sexually attractive anymore. I love number two undoubtedly but this body shaming was not okay. Number two taught me that a healthy and active sex life is a really important part in my relationships and, as a young woman, I don’t have to be ashamed to admit that.  

Number three

I slept with number three seven months after ending my long term relationship. Number three was the first guy I’d slept with who I wasn’t in a relationship with, number three was a guy I’d known for a while but become friendly with (probably because we were both single and horny). Some people would say number three wasn’t good for me because, yeah, he did mess me around a bit but number three taught me that there’s laughter and fun after heartbreak, number three’s a great friend.

Number four

I slept with number four in the back of his van (this is not a The 1975 song, promise), number four became my only ‘fuckbuddy’, number four was fun at the time, I never had romantic feelings for number four. Number four taught me that I’m not built for ‘fuckbuddies’, I like feelings, passion, love and even heartbreak.

Number five

I slept with number five on our first, (yup, there’s a theme occurring here), and only date. I matched number five on Tinder, number five was older, mysterious and ‘addicted’ to me. Me and number five stayed up until 4am planning the first time we’d meet each other, I don’t think I’ve ever been as instantly sexually attracted to someone as I was number five. Number five picked me up in his posh car, took me to his posh house, poured me some posh wine, fed me some posh food and led me up his posh stairs. Number five and I had the night we’d planned at 4am, number five was not over his ex. Number five taught me that guys don’t always know how to get over breakups either and sometimes a one night stand is for the best (didn’t teach me to stay the fuck away from Tinder though).

Number six

I slept with number six on our first date. I matched number six on Tinder. I kept number sixes and I’s relationship so quiet, I was crazy about number six. Number six and I spoke every day; in my final month of university, when I went on a girl’s holiday to Tenerife, when I went on a girl’s weekend away to Clacton, when he went on a lad’s holiday to France. Number six and I had an insanely passionate and caring sex life, number six was and is the most pleasurable, comfortable and happiest sex I’ve ever had, number six taught me that I was right, I like feelings, passion, love and even heartbreak. Shit. Number six.