A lot have people have been asking me what London was like - did I enjoy it? Mostly I say that I really enjoyed it, but that I couldn't live there forever. A year for my masters is no problem, but to settle there for the rest of my life? I don't think I could.
It is an amazing city, full of opportunities and culture. But it is also full of rude, unhelpful people who are perfectly nice in themsleves, but as soon as they are communting/generally out on the streets, woe betide anyone that tries to chat to them or even worse, gets in their way! It's so polluted I could physically feel the extra grime on my skin and hair - and see it when I cleansed my skin at night. It's a minor thing, but the water tastes rank. Last but not least - it's the most ridculously overpriced place I have ever been to. The other night I went for a thai meal with my friends here in Manchester - we all had starters and a main; the food tasted good, service was dodgy but friendly and the meal came to £35 for 3 of us (non-alcoholic drinks though). That would be almost unheard of in London. And it's not just food - it's transport, drinks, entertainment (£10 for a cinema ticket!!), accommodation. I'm just not sure it's worth it.
For me Manchester has enough. It's multi-cultural, has a wide range of bars and restaurants, its cheap and easy to travel around, the people are definitely friendlier - and I like the water!
But you know what? It's hard spending all day by yourself. Even though I'm meeting up with my friends in the evening, somehow it isn't the same. I have plenty to keep myself occupied (I'm working on a research project for my local hospital) but I miss the buzz of working with other people like I did during my internship. Having other people to joke with or listen to. I suppose it's natural to want company though. So much time alone also gives me way too much time to worry. About my dad and having not heard from him for a while, about finding somewhere to live next year, about what I'm going to do after that year, and a whole host of other tiny things. Everyone has worries, but when you have other people to distract you they don't play on your mind so much I guess.
So in summary: I enjoyed London but don't want to live there forever. I love Manchester but miss working with people like I did in London! :)
Friday, June 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
I don't even know where to start - there's so much I could write about.
Well since this is a space for me, I'll start with the topic that seems to have been with me since I was a little girl and which has been bothering me lately. My weight.
I wasn't overweight when I was a child, but I was made to feel I was, to the point where my self-esteem was so low I don't even like to think of it now. Then I hit puberty and my teenage anxieties kicked in. It wasn't until I was 16 that I ever really became overweight, and I have fluctuated since then but have never been obese.
The reason I want to write about it now though is because I've become aware recently that it's not just something that bothers me when I look in a mirror; it's something that I think about all day, sometimes without even realising it. You might even be justified in saying I was obsessed with it.
I wake up, do all the normal stuff, and check my shape in the mirror. I get dressed, acutely aware of how each garment makes me look, what it hides, what it shows. When I sit down I think about the parts if me that might be made to look bigger, the same when I stand up, walk, carry something. They are usually fleeting thoughts, but they are still there. When I want to eat, either through hunger or habit or just feeling low, I think of the weight I might put on. When I do any exercise, I think of the improved shape I might get. On top of this, I compare myself to every woman I see - friends or strangers (every woman does this, she's lying if she says she doesn't!). I compare myself to the pictures I see (even though I know its futile). When there's a programme on TV about other people losing weight, even if I don't watch it, I'm interested.
It sounds ridiculous right? But that's what goes through my mind. All the time. This is despite knowing that men really don't care about a few extra pounds - I get a fairly similar number of men coming on to me when I'm a little bit bigger than when I'm a bit smaller.
The reason I am writing about this, is because I have a suspicion that it's not just me. I mean, I have grown up with a weight obsessed extended family and father, and a mother that has literally been on every diet she's heard of and has been trying to lose weight ever since I can remember...but I suspect that a lot of women actually think this way.
Women worry about how they look all the time. Their hair, clothes, skin, make-up, bags, shoes, jewellery, nails. Why do we do it? Men hardly notice these things, and even though we might want them to - we know this. Do we value what other women think so much, that almost every waking action is coloured by the way we look. In my instance its weight - but for some it's skin, others it's hair or wrinkles. I suppose I resent the fact that I am so consumed with my body image, when rationally I know there is no reason to be - I am not unhealthy or physically repulsive (well, no has said I am...).
All I want to do is be able to live my daily life freely - to have the freedom to think of other things. There isn't a proper reason why I shouldn't be able to; now I just need to figure out how!
Well since this is a space for me, I'll start with the topic that seems to have been with me since I was a little girl and which has been bothering me lately. My weight.
I wasn't overweight when I was a child, but I was made to feel I was, to the point where my self-esteem was so low I don't even like to think of it now. Then I hit puberty and my teenage anxieties kicked in. It wasn't until I was 16 that I ever really became overweight, and I have fluctuated since then but have never been obese.
The reason I want to write about it now though is because I've become aware recently that it's not just something that bothers me when I look in a mirror; it's something that I think about all day, sometimes without even realising it. You might even be justified in saying I was obsessed with it.
I wake up, do all the normal stuff, and check my shape in the mirror. I get dressed, acutely aware of how each garment makes me look, what it hides, what it shows. When I sit down I think about the parts if me that might be made to look bigger, the same when I stand up, walk, carry something. They are usually fleeting thoughts, but they are still there. When I want to eat, either through hunger or habit or just feeling low, I think of the weight I might put on. When I do any exercise, I think of the improved shape I might get. On top of this, I compare myself to every woman I see - friends or strangers (every woman does this, she's lying if she says she doesn't!). I compare myself to the pictures I see (even though I know its futile). When there's a programme on TV about other people losing weight, even if I don't watch it, I'm interested.
It sounds ridiculous right? But that's what goes through my mind. All the time. This is despite knowing that men really don't care about a few extra pounds - I get a fairly similar number of men coming on to me when I'm a little bit bigger than when I'm a bit smaller.
The reason I am writing about this, is because I have a suspicion that it's not just me. I mean, I have grown up with a weight obsessed extended family and father, and a mother that has literally been on every diet she's heard of and has been trying to lose weight ever since I can remember...but I suspect that a lot of women actually think this way.
Women worry about how they look all the time. Their hair, clothes, skin, make-up, bags, shoes, jewellery, nails. Why do we do it? Men hardly notice these things, and even though we might want them to - we know this. Do we value what other women think so much, that almost every waking action is coloured by the way we look. In my instance its weight - but for some it's skin, others it's hair or wrinkles. I suppose I resent the fact that I am so consumed with my body image, when rationally I know there is no reason to be - I am not unhealthy or physically repulsive (well, no has said I am...).
All I want to do is be able to live my daily life freely - to have the freedom to think of other things. There isn't a proper reason why I shouldn't be able to; now I just need to figure out how!
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