I. Am. Happy.

Warning: if you’re a bit down in the dumps and you don’t feel like sharing in somebody else’s unabashed and shameless happiness, then this might not be for you. Instead, read this – it might help to lift your mood, and if it doesn’t, you can do what some random girl on Instagram did and just send me a direct message that says ‘Bitch’.

I’ve been sitting at my laptop, desperately trying to think of something to write for a good 2 hours now. I’ve jotted down lists in my notebook, scanned my favourite blogs for inspiration (FYI they are by Liv, Hannah and Sophie and not just because they are my friends but also kinda because they are) and looked back on some of my old content, wondering what I can update you on. A lot of my favourite pieces have been about struggling to accept myself, questioning the status quo and my place within the blogging world and challenging preconceptions about what it means to be “girly”. Whilst I’m really proud of these posts and pretty much all of the content I push out, I do feel like I’m often waging a war – trying to fight against something or prove something in order to be able to wrap it all up with an idealistic revelation at the end.

I’ve fallen into this style of writing naturally, and I love it. However, when I don’t have a bee in my bonnet and my fingers aren’t typing at the speed of light, I find myself staring at an empty screen, reaching for a personal experience to share. And at the moment, I don’t have one. The truth is that I’m actually really happy. I’m at a really good place in my life where I’m finally accepting myself, appreciating the love that I’m lucky enough to share and embracing my career without fearing the success of others. I always say if Keiran was a dog he’d be a Golden Retriever, because aside from the floppy blonde hair and unquestionable loyalty, he’s content with his life 99% of the time. It seems he’s rubbing off on me (wahey), because that’s exactly how I feel right now – content.

And my life is far from in order. I still live with my grandparents, I still can’t drive and today I spent £50 on fake tan and mascara. On the flip side, however, I’ve been saving more than ever before, my career is going strong and 2017 is looking to be absolutely fucking pukka. I’ve just started to be less critical of myself – to look at my life as if it were an open book, one side good, one side bad, to weigh up what’s there and to realise that actually, it’s pretty alright.

Unfortunately (or fortunately for me, really) that’s it. There’s no snappy closing sentence or life-changing epiphany, I’m simply in a happy, plod-along place right now where I’m actually not that stressed (blasphemy for bloggers, we must *always* be stressed) and enjoying my life. Of course I still have blips where I’m doubting my own work or my life plans or the decision to be fat and happy, but instead of these niggles dominating my day, they’re having their 15 seconds of fame and then slipping out of my mind, ready to make way for pizza cravings and secret evil thoughts about my co-workers (hi guys!!).

What else is there to say? Is this even a blog post? Is there a coherent line of thought here or am I just mindlessly typing so I have something to showcase alongside Michaela’s beautiful photography once again? Probably yes, but nonetheless, as I approach my 23rd birthday I’m feeling very thankful, very excited and just plain happy. And it’s a wonderful thing. So today, instead of coming at you with a sassy think-piece or extended write up of my previously shitty relationship with my own body, I come to you with this: be kind, lift others up and be happy. Whilst that may sound like a knock-off canvas quote from TK Maxx, and I can promise you that it comes straight from my very full and very chipper heart.