Birthday Fever

Everyone does it (or at least I hope they do). Your Birthday is around the corner, and all these plans come to mind. What you're going to wear, what you're going to do; who you're going to invite and who you're not. But the day looms closer, reality sinks in. Turns out, no matter how old I am, I'm still not Carrie from Sex and the City and I'm not going to be getting a pair of Manolo Blahnik's for a present, and neither will I be wearing them out for cocktails in London or New York.

They may break my neck but god they're
so beautiful!

Being a country bumpkin and going to university so close to London, it's really easy to get caught up in all the crazy city life. The expensive clothes, the constant glamour and the roof top lunches about 500m from the ground. It's easy to forget my Cornish roots. The most glamorous I've ever been was at my school graduation prom, it's hard feeling comfortable in slacks around slick city chics.

Good bye city life, hello Cornish life

Having to divide your home life and uni life is one of the hardest bits of growing up. Having no choice but to be an adult and have responsibilities at uni and look smart so people take me seriously and then being able to go home, let my down and fit back in to my life on the beach... it's not hard to get lost in yourself. A schizophrenic life.

But fuck it... I'm turning 19, I have my whole life to pretend to be a city chic.

On my birthday I'll be donning a tie die mini dress and boots and hitting the carnival night life of where I live in my little town in little Cornwall. So it's not Sex and the City, and so I was a little disappointed that it wasn't going to be all glam and stuff but this is who I am. Besides, I hate wearing high heels, even if they are Monolo Blahnik's .... So where's that beach?!

Peace Out.