My blog, my life, my pregnancy. My loves, my hates. Me.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

I'm Livid. What A Prick!

I wanted this post to be a huge update including pictures and all sorts, because tons has been going on lately and I've been taking tons of pictures, but I am livd - so this is just a rant, I'm afraid.
My boyfriend finally told his parents about the baby! (Thanks Heavens for that.) They were actually okay about it. Our next job was to tell everybody else, so I Facebook announced it, to save time really; I'd be able to tell everybody together that way. I sat there biting my nails, feeling very sick, dreading every single reply. BUT, to my shock, people were lovely. I'll paste actually, but not all of it, there were 67 replies in total. Not one of them bad though.

Pixie and Bambi would like to announce... We're having a baby :)
16th September at 21.31 ·
You, ---, ---, --- and 13 others like this.
Eeee, congrats babeeee. Loveyouu xxxx omg congratulations hun im really happy for you both think u will be a fantastic mum xx I agree with her xx Bloody hell lass! SERIOUSLY?! OH MY GOD!! congratssss xxxx Congratulations x Thank you for all the congrats everyone x :) I'm still waiting for the terrible reactions... eeeeeee! im so happy for you both! this is going to be one b-e-a-utiful baby for some strange reason i feel all excited for you haha cant believe this is happenin 2 one of my old best mates well congrats x :)That went good :D haha Congrats even though I said it ages ago glad the reactions have been good :-) you will be great parents x you'll be sensational parents.


Great ey? Couldn't ask for better. I went for a few days thinking there's gonna be someone who has to be prick. But nobody was a prick! We went to a party and we got gifts given! Eleven days passed and I assumed everyone knew and had said what they wanted to say, which was simply "congratulations". I thought I'd been lucky! But there is always one. There's always a prick. Always always always. And it's usually someone you never expect to be one and all the people you expected to be nasty were nice. I was in two minds about uploading the scan picture, just because I didn't know if it was too private to upload, but I thought a lot of people who'd been getting excited would love to see it. I got a new phone last week that takes really good photos and I finally got them on to the computer today, and they looked even better on there. I'd obviously taken a pic of the scan photo to have on my phone, so I uploaded it tonight in a really happy album with smiley pictures of me and my boyfriend in it. I was in a happy smiley mood. Not for long...
Within seconds...
Friend: It looks like your boyfriend :P x
Prick: Are you joking Pixie*?!!
Me (not seeing the other thing): Hehe yeh - like a little alien! xx
Friend: exactly what i was thinking :D :D :D xx
Prick: im just thinking stupid.
Me: Am I joking about what?
Prick: Having a bloody kid at your age... just stupid.
Friend: Haha be happy for them man, there happy and so is every1 else, if u think its stupid dont comment it then?
Prick: Well we'll just wait and see to what happens in the future ay.
And the anger kicked in. I had to ring boyfriend to let off some steam and tell him what had been said. He was like "Right then, turning on the computer, logging in, facebook, right."
Boyfriend: Right then. We will see what happens in the future won't we and by my mind it will not be very good for you. If you ever upset her like this again I will destroy you.
I wish he hadn't closed it with such a line as "I will destroy you", because that's a bit daft and mellow-dramatic and just gives way for the prick to take the piss, but I did rather like the protective aspect of his words. ;)
I replied, remembering the quote I'd read earlier: "Rise above the storm and there will be sunshine," whilst thinking to myself, I'd like to roll with the thunder a little bit too.
Me: He's not upset me bambi! (my nickname for him) We rise above this :P I know exactly what he predicts for our future. And way to go for him, putting us in with the "young parents stereotype" - Yeh I can see it all now, what close minded people like him think. They think me and you will split up by next year, they think we'll be on the dole, they think we'll be nasty to our kids and probably be massive chavvy mongers. But we know different don't we baby, so don't be doing any destroying ha! And you, Prick, don't ever think it's okay to write something disrespecful and heartless on the first ever photo of my child.
(To none British people - the dole is like... I don't actually know, I just know you get called a "dole dosser" if you're on it. It's some money you claim off the government if you don't have a job, and most people on it are said to be lazy arses who do nothing but sit on their arses all day. And a chavvy monger would be presumably one of these people.)
Friend: Delete all these silly comments? :) This picture is happy times and needs good comments :D :D :D x
2nd Friend: That guy's a dick, man!!!! Lolss! I'm really really really really really REALLY!!!! happy for you both! I know you'll be AMAZING parents!!!! : ) xxxx
3rd Friend: I hate this guy because of these comments. I also can't believe I'm about to agree with --- but you should delete these comments. This is a happy picture for a happy time. Just because he properly won't be able to get a chance like this, being a pathetic little twat that he sounds, doesn't mean that he has to ruin yours. X x
As soon as I read that last comment I thought, that's nice, but all he's gonna say to that is something along the lines of "Yes I will get a chance like this, but I'll be older and wiser and have more money." Here was his reply:
Prick: yes i dont want to have this chance of having a child at the age of 17 ide rather wait till i had money to support and have lived my life to the full. And please dont destroy me Mr. Schwarzenegger :S
How hilariously predictable people are. And then my friend... She's great, but she has a mouth on her I tell ya...
3rd Friend: I meant having a child at all, you fucking idiot. So yeah they may not have planned this child, but they aren't abannoning it just because of their age or money issues. YOU want to wait, YOU think they are being stupid. They ARE NOT you. So back the fuck off. Now.
(Actually babe, we did plan it, but I'll let you off as you are on my side).
I felt at this point I had to take control, it was 3am and I was getting increasingly pissed off at the fact I couldn't sleep. (I can never sleep when someone's been rude to me and I haven't said exactly what I want to say.) I kept checking the comments on my phone and when I saw his last little speech, I thought okay my turn, I'm better at these. I turned my computer back on.
Me: I take it that means you think I've not lived my life to the full? Of course I haven't! I'm seventeen like you said, I'd like to think I've got a good few years left in me yet pal! I'm having a baby, I'm not committing suicide. My life doesn't end because I'm a mother, it gets better actually. I'll be living my life quicker than you. What's your plan exactly? If I'm stereotyping you, you'll waste 4 years at university to come out with a job you coulda had already if you'da gone straight to work, a huge hangover and tons of debt. To be honest, I see what I'm doing as cutting out the crap bits and getting to the good stuff. I didn't want to go to uni, I want to be a singer or a writer and I probably never will be, but I don't need some stuck-up place of education place to tell me that. And the best mothers I know didn't have a penny when they had their kids - it's love and affection that makes a good parent, not a big detatched house or a great car and five holidays a year. Get a grip on reality.
That was all. I think everyone, unlike me, is probably tucked up in their bed sleeping soundly, so I won't recieve any replies until tomorrow. Well, later today.

Why do people have such issues with the way other people choose to live their life? This prick, he'll have kids eventually. So he'll do what I'm doing, but he'll just be of a different age. Why is it such a hard concept for him to grasp that this is the way I wanted my life to go?
I haven't been able to see any similarities with myself and most other teenagers I know for ages. I like make up and I like clothes, and I pay interest to them, but I look past them in terms of what's important to me, because I know there's more to life. I like books and music but I don't swamp myself in these things - they don't keep you happy forever. Passing exams and gaining qualifications doesn't keep you happy forever. It makes you feel good about yourself for a while, as does looking nice, but at the end of the day we all want the same thing, we all want love and we want happiness. (Unless we're complete psychopaths who hate the whole human race.) I want to start a little family, I don't see the problem with me going out and getting that very thing when I'm able to. I grew up way too fast, so at age fourteen I felt the age I actually am now. For me to have a baby at seventeen, funnily enough feels like the right age for me, I feel like I'm in my mid-twenties. When your eyes are opened to the harshness of the world quite early on in life, as you get older it becomes apparent how easily you can waste your life, because you know you've only got one shot to get it right. I look at some grown women and I think wow; inside I'm more mature than you. I might not talk it, look it, or even act it, but I know my outlook on life and the lessons I've learned are beyond my years. Why am I doing all this explaining? Now I've had one negative reaction I'm paranoid that everybody else is harbouring some secret hatred towards me for what I'm doing as well!
Its not that I'm obsessed with what people think of me as a person - I don't give a toss. It's when people who don't know me dare to have a go at me for something I've said or done. Notice how all the friends were nice and backed me up straight away? I know that's their loyal duty, but they know me don't they - so they understand me and my boyfriend aren't the typical seventeen year old couple. This, I'll say for the last time, PRICK, he saw me at that primary school reunion I went to last month, and that was the first time he'd seen me in about 6 years. He doesn't know anything about my odd life and my odd ways - so for him to pass judgement is just fucking out of order!
And... I'm done now. It's ten to five.

WHAT. A. PRICK.

Monday, September 14, 2009

How Lovely Is This?!

I've almost got 30 followers and two lovely girls have given me an award! http://teeeeeesha.blogspot.com/ & http://made-the-cut.blogspot.com/ Thank you both of ya! This is mega good news. I almost gave up blogging on here a bit back you know, because I didn't see the point if nobody read my blog. I'm glad I didn't - people actually do now. I really appreciate everyone that is giving me feedback on posts and stuff. I know it might be a little sad but whenever I get a comment from someone on a post, I get a little excited :D Ha ha.


(19th September) -
I'm just adding this bit now, something I forgot to do earlier... And I need to do it before I write my next blog: Tag people who I would give these awards to! I don't know how many blogs I have to tag, so I'll just tag some of my favourites!

http://confessionsofsomeonealmost18.blogspot.com - I love this blog. I think she has what makes a great blogger: life experience, character, and wit. Her blog's really interesting, and the subject's of her posts are rather emotion-evoking too.

http://francesdontfall.blogspot.com/ - Her blog just shows that some great writing talent can often go unnoticed. She has very few followers, but she should have more. She puts words together beautifully.

http://stamy-ateyourface.blogspot.com/ - I really like this girl, she's 15, doesn't seem it at all, and reminds me of me two years ago, when I was the same age. Plus... Amazing hair.

http://2kids2dogs.blogspot.com/ - Kind of like an inspiring blog to me I guess! I want the settled down family life and secretly, I would love to be a "stay-at-home-mum". Even though I won't be able to because of lack of money, it's still fun to read about someone who can!

I get to tell you seven things about myself now!

1. My real name is not Pixie. Oh come off it, you knew that? If my real name was Pixie I'd well be famous by now. Pixie Geldoff, Pixie Lott, etc. Okay, there's only two that I can think of but it does seem to be a very famousy type name. My real name is rather boring and average, I don't use it on here because in previous posts I've talked openly about my rape, and now I'm talking about my pregnancy - If anyone I knew stumbled across this, well, those things aren't exactly common knowledge. So yeah, I'm a big secret. (Although I'm rethinking all this, because a clever birdy told me I've nothing to be ashamed or embarassed about - and it's true!)

2. I live in the North of England. My accent is a bit common and horrific. Think of Chanelle from Big Brother, if you remember her, she was the "Posh-Spice lookalike". If you know who I'm on about we're on the right lines... That's my voice!

3. I suffer from random bouts of depression and I have one now. Most of them are caused by the poor relationship with my mother. We were really close when I was a kid and as soon as I hit my teenage years we didn't get on at all. She wants me to stay here and have my boyfriend move in when the baby is born, but I'm secretly trying to go about getting our own place. (I didn't want to claim benefits at all, because I think it's cheeky, but I've kinda got no choice now, it's really unhealthy to stay here.)

4. I went to five schools all in all, and... three colleges now. Problem child alert.

5. I've become an Ebay addict this week! I had 60 quid in the bank and it's gone, all of it, gone gone gone. I do have a great excuse though: I wanted to get out all my compulsive buying unneccasairy items urges, before I have to start buying important stuff like a crib and a pram... And a house. I got some yellow Dr. Martens. My boyfriend said I'll look like Bob The Builder.

6. I can't sleep in any bed apart from my own, even though it's the most uncomfy thing since a matress made of razor blades. I get used to little things and slight changes.. they knock my system.

7. My Grandma took me shopping when I was younger and said she'd buy me a Barbie. There was a Barbie in the shop I was drawn to, which wasn't really a Barbie at all, she was different and ace. She was pale with red hair and freckles and it said her name was Kimmie on the box. I'm a big fan of individuality. Kimmie's my favourite name for a girl, and I didn't even realise why until I found the doll again! It's my boyfriend's favourite too. Evelyn's our second favourite name for girl, no deep childhood-linked reason though, we just like it. :)

Oh, PS: Barbies. This woman is obsessed with them http://www.bebarbie.net/ - She makes me chuckle.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Goodbye Old College. Hello Crappy New One.

It's 12.30pm and I'm currently sat on my bed, dipping Oreos into milk. Oh how very American of me! They've got the right idea over there with food though, minus McDonalds. McDonalds have ruined my face. I believe burgers should come with warnings on their box, because I really don't remember their side effects amidst a bout of severe hunger. An American food place that gets the thumbs up from me, even though I don't know anything about it, is “Taco Bell”. I heard some kid on the telly once exclaiming it, “Ohmygawd! Taco Bell!” and I really wished we had one over here - that's if I rightly assumed they sell tacos there, they could sell bells, or neither of those things... We have a Boots over here but they don't sell boots, and Priceless Shoes is rather a decieving name as they just sell pairs of shits.

I got my first proper craving – it's tomatoes. What a rubbish craving that is. I wanted to be one of these fantastic women who go to all lengths to find coal to lick because they sense an iron deficency in their blood, then I'd really have something to talk about. Instead I get lousy old tomatoes, which I liked anyway, aren't anything out of the ordinary and frankly, are crap!

Last year in this month I was starting college to do my BTEC First Diploma in Music Performance. I was really adamant on going to a college in a different town to the one I live in, because I didn't want any reminders of my past and I didn't want people who knew me when I lived a reckless life to have preconcieved ideas of me. I wanted to start a complete fresh, that's why I didn't mind catching the two trains that took me an hour to get there and recieving the constant telling off from my tutors when I arrived late. I remember spending hours the night before the big first day stressing over the importance of finding the perfect outfit. I can perfectly recall my mum's “how did a daughter of mine end up such a bimbo?” face when I said, “If I pick the wrong thing to wear, people's opinions of me will be set the wrong way forever!” Now I know that my blonde hair, glittery eye make up, leather jacket, white tshirt with some kiddish logo on, denim skirt, black tights and black fake Uggs really didn't matter. By the end of the year, I'd changed so much through college and finally got a sense of individuality. I was a gingertop, wearing band tshirts, tartan pants and my big hefty (beloved) Dr. Martens. I owe a lot to that college. I'd gone straight there with shattered confidence from having the worst thing in the world happen to me, the worst high-school experiences in the world and a year of homeschooling hermitness. I was obsessed with what people might think of me and I was terrified they might not like me. About a month into the course, I realised that I was on a course full of boys who were all musicians who didn't give a shit about life, loved dope, guitars and tattoos. The way to be liked was not to be Miss Pretty or Miss “Hehe, do you like my new hairband?” but to be myself, which was luckily, a more girly version of one of the lads.

I'll admit, over the week I've been getting a little sad about not doing the next course, the two year one, equivalent to 3 A-Levels. Through that college I got to record, perform and best of all; have music put to the songs I wrote. I love songwriting and singing, music is my passion. I know that it just wouldn't be possible to do the walking to the train station and from the train station in the winter, heavily pregnant. I know that I'd hate doing a full-time course when baby's here and I know that I'm getting such a wonderful thing in replace of what I had, something so much better, but it's natural to feel a bit sad every once in a while, right? Today I enrolled for a part time course at the big local college, the one that everyone goes to, so I guess that's what's brought it on. I decided to go back to my English roots, my love for reading and writing will probably get me somewhere further than my love of music ever could anyway – so I'm doing an English A-Level. I just go in on a Monday of every week for a couple of hours. I also enrolled at an even more local college, (literally, this tiny shithole down the road from me) to retake my Maths GCSE, and do a Physiology one (apparently it's easier than actual Science, which I desperately fail at.)

Not wanting to completely abandon music, I joined a band with a girl I know who plays bass, a girl I know who plays drums and the bassist's boyfriend who plays guitar. We had the first practice the other day, this could've also brought on my missing-college feelings. I realised I wouldn't be able to work with them the same as I could with the guys in some of the bands I was in for our college projects who were all mega talented. The bassist was extremely moody and untalkative and the drummer got too carried away with her drumming. The guitarist didn't even turn up. Promising eh? But we'll see I guess. I'm not going to be completely pessimistic about everything, because I've done a good thing haven't I? I'm going to be a mummy, but I'm not going to give up my life and forget who I am. I'm aiming higher as they say, going back and getting the qualifications I should've got ages ago and still carrying on singing, whilst my biggest dream is getting closer to coming true. My biggest dream is to be a parent, and I know that everything else, all these emotions I go through because this happened in my life and that happened to me, the reasons behind all my daily worrying and stressing will all seem so trivial once my tiny little angelface is here.

It's 2.07 now. I've been very slow at writing this, but I'm glad I did because it's made me tired at last. I think I'm going to go get some more Oreos to snack on, go for a wee and then hit the pillow, the uncomfy one with a Paddington Bear case on it. Super stylish.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

My 12 Week Scan!

The day finally came. I reached the safe mark! Time had been going slow when I'd been longing for it to hurry up, and fast when I'd been thinking oh my god - slow down! Just reading this blog from start to here is proof of how quick it's all gone. I cannot believe that a few months ago I was putting my beloved other half through hell and myself through even worse. It's a distant memory now. Today was the day of my 12 week scan. The first time I'd get to see my lovely baby.

I had to drink a pint of water an hour before and even though my bladder is a weak as anything, I started worrying that I wouldn't need to wee. (You have to need a wee for 12 week scans; full bladder or no scan.) We got to the hospital, which is not my local hospital, because my whole family had a really traumatic time there in the maternity ward when my niece was stillborn, so I requested a hospital a bit further out, but not too far. I clobbered in with my manic bright red hair and my big fat skater shoes and thought they'd point me over to the children's ward. "Oh, your head's bleeding, it's turned your hair an awful shade of crimson! Children's ward that way little girl!" The lady on the reception there wasn't judgemental at all, which is always good I guess. She just asked me to take a seat and wait, quite plainly, hardly looking at me, completely uninterested - wouldn't have it any other way. I didn't exactly wanna be looked up and down. There was this lady of around 30 next to me waiting for her scan, she was there a bit earlier than me. She was one of those middle class types who can't help but look down their big nose at anyone that's not... them - well she seemed it. When the lady at the reception asked me if I was waiting for a scan and my name, the funny woman looked at me like I was a pile of dog poo! Then started fidgeting in her seat uncontrollably, clearly really annoyed they'd asked me first when she'd been sat waiting before me. Gosh, some people. When they asked her name you should've seen how snappily she replied. She had a lollable name though. Ha. My boyfriend just whispered "Bloody hell, eager beaver int she?"

When I was sat down waiting, I uncrossed my legs and realised I did need a wee. Ten points to me for that. A young woman called me in for my scan. I was so giddy with nerves I could barely contain myself. I laid down on the bed-thing shakily and rolled my top up like she asked, commanded my boyfriend to move the chair nearer so he could hold my hand. She put this hot gelly stuff on me which made me tingle, haha. Then she started rubbing the thingamybobba on my belly. (I wish I was more educated about pregnancy, but my no clue about anything attitude entertains my mum and co.) She said straight away that she could see a heartbeat and that I was indeed 12 weeks pregnant, pretty much bang on. (11 weeks and 6 days). Everything was healthy and well! I giggled like a bit of an idiot at everything. I was genuinely over the moon. When she showed me the screen, oh my god! I could see my baby moving around. Nothing can prepare you for that feeling! Seriously. You watch it on telly on soaps and stuff, I think they under-act it! I was hysterical with happiness, I could've literally got up and done a dance and screamed hallelujah. Maybe it sounds silly, but I felt this instant sense of protectiveness and love that I'd never felt before. It was so cute, the baby kept putting it's little arms above it's head and wriggling it's legs about! Dancing :) My boyfriend had gone teary eyed and I'd gone super over excited. As soon as the scan was over he looked at me and told me he loved me. It's a rare thing in my life to have a "perfect day" but this was close enough.

I asked for five scan pictures :) She gave us all different ones. There are some truly amazing ones. I guess they're not as amazing to the people I've shown, as they are to me and my boyfriend - when you know it's your bambino... It's wonderful, you can't stop looking at these alien-like pictures. On one of them you can see the baby's heart! On another, you can see what looks like little feet. Wow. I'm going to go to my sister's house sometime soon to use her scanner, but for now I've had to do my old method of taking a picture of a picture. I couldn't not though! The picture I've put on this blog is my favourite picture out of the lot, most definately. You can tell when I'm happy, because I overdo it with the exclamation marks! See, it's like an addiction when my mood's good.

Friday, August 21, 2009

The Pregnant Girl's Primary School Reunion.

Last night I went to the pub for a reunion with everybody from the Primary School I went to. After year six, a few people actually moved countries and some people were just impossible to stay in contact with even if they only lived round the corner, so as you can imagine, most of us drifted. Because my high school situation was always temporary, I never managed to make the kind of friends I made in kiddy school. I'm one of those people that look back at their first school years and get incredibly nostalgic and sad. I seriously loved those years. Seeing everybody last night was weird, but really really good.
I'd been really nervous about going. I made a pact with myself ages ago to always make sure I looked amazing if there was ever a time I was meeting people who hadn't seen me in years. Shallow? Indeed. I wanted to give off the impression I'd blossomed, not turned into a dowdy, dull, frumpy thing! Recently my face has been covered - from forehead to chin - in big red spots and blemishes. Lovely. But my skin isn't permanently like that; lately it just has breakouts for a week, and then they all disappear and my face seems to be clearer than ever. (I guess it's the pregnant thing, although I'm probably not past puberty yet either, ha. Double dosage of hormones; eek.) My face looked okay yesterday for a change, I washed my hair and that was manageable... I fit into none of the clothes I used to wear out. I haven't got a bump yet, I'm not even at the 12 weeks mark - I've just been over-eating like a fat pig. I know all these books tell you to avoid doing that wive's taley thing and "eating for two", because you only need an extra few calories a day, but I'm not doing it on purpose! I've actually needed to eat, I've been so hungry. I went to Asda, because Asda and Primark are just about the only places with clothes in the price range I can afford right now, and Asda is just down the road from me. I wanted a cheap dress. I wasn't looking for anything that would make binty girls say "Oh my god, that dress is gorgeous babe!" but I actually found something that was really me and I instantly loved for fourteen quid - purple and silky and probably a bit too short to be a dress, I snapped it up and galloped home. I didn't really gallop, that'd look a bit strange and I would've probably been beaten up before I could reach my front door, but I wanted to say gallop so I did. When I got home I got a lecture from my mum about how I should be saving, and buying things I won't fit into in a month or two is a ridiculous idea. I admit I'm penniless, but I'd been so good so far; I'd not indulged in any treats for myself since I knew - I'd not even gone out with friends. I'd been a hermit who locks herself away for weeks and I wanted one night to not to be a hermit and not to lock myself away.
When I got there I was shitting bricks and building houses, but it was ok after a while. I found that the people I got on with really well when I was little, I could talk to easily and have a flowing conversation with and the people that I never really bonded with, I was a bit fidgety and nervous to talk to. It's weird how things stick with you and follow you from a young age into your older life! I got told that I look just the same, just older. Some guy told me I look about 30. 30?! Only if it's a 30 year old midget you're talking about - I'm too little to look 30, plus I'm only two years older than half of 30! I found it offensive, clearly it's just another way of saying I look like a paggered old hag? Haha, whatever, he was always blind. In year six he told me I looked like a duck.
The two girls I've always kept contact with were there last night, two I still class as my best friends. I wanted to take them away into a corner and tell them my news. I'm trying to tell all the best friends before I announce it to the world and tell everybody. The best friends may be a bit pissed off if they don't know first you see. So far I've told my mum, my dad, two of my sisters but not the other one (who has never really been there for me), two best friends and the other girl that was on the walk with me. One of the "best friends" I told said "Oh dear. You had so much going for you.", the other one said "Congratulations! Can I throw you a baby shower?!" I preferred congratulations. I saw her "oh dear" as a judgmental response, she'd evidently presumed it was unplanned and a thing I'd change if I could go back in time. It was planned, and I'd never change it. The girl who went on the walk, who I felt I just had to tell, because me and my boyfriend left without saying goodbye, she said, "One question that's niggling me, how on earth are you going to support it?" Erm, with love, care, clothes, food, you know, the things any other mother supports their child with? Idiot. My counsellor, I told her, but I don't really count that. My counsellor said, "It must be a difficult time for you, you're still at the point where a termination is an option." A termination was never an option. You know, even if it was unplanned and I did want to go back in time and change things, I wouldn't consider a termination, at all, ever. I've known people close to me who had miscarriages, my own sister's baby, my niece, she was stillborn. Lives taken before they've even been - that's one of the most upsetting things in my world. If I have the ability to control whether a new life stays or not and not, rather than have nature take it away without reason, then I'd always choose to let it stay. As my mum said when I told her I was pregnant; "After what we've been through, we should celebrate human life, so I'm not going to tell you you're stupid or anything like that, I'm going to celebrate it." My sisters are just generally giddy and excited about it. I never got to tell my two friends at the reunion, because one was smashed out of her face and the other had loads of her friends there.
It was funny to be around so many drunk people and so many smokers, without being able to be drunk or have a cigarette. I had half a pint and people thought I was weird, I had to say I'd stopped drinking because I was scared I'd turned into an alcoholic. Apparently it runs in my family. It doesn't, I'm just a great liar. Everybody was like, "What are you doing with yourself now then Pixie?" Just yanno, being up the duff and stuff. "I was at college, but I've finished my course now and I'm going to get a job." Which will be true, in June. Through my pregnancy, starting from September (which isn't long now) I'm doing a few part time college courses to try and up my grades so I can actually get a job. I kinda came out of school with three GCSES, that looked like this: C, D, E. Nobody wants that, not even KFC. I'm retaking Maths, doing an English a-level (English was the thing I managed to scrape a C in), and doing IT (which I never did at all.) I'm not even going to bother with Science, because it depresses me.
My boyfriend's got himself a job, and I'm still saving my 30 pounds a week in the bank. We're going to be poor for a long time, but we're going to love our baby and I've got the privalege of my mum and dad's help. He hasn't told his parents yet. He's waiting for "the right time." I can't tell the world until he tells his parents.
My pregnancy so far - I'm 10 weeks pregnant, my first scan is on the 2nd of September, I'm fat and moody and spotty, but generally happy. Some people know, most people don't. I'm going to announce to the world via facebook. Well, is there another way really?! The reactions to my news will mainly be negative, I'm well prepared for it. The people that say congratulations, I'll class as true friends. The "friend" who "oh dear"ed me, lets just say, she can fuck off. She hasn't contacted me since I told her and if she does I'll be blunt as ever. I made my scrapbook page for the day I found out. Wanna s
ee? :)
If you can actually read that writing, have a medal. I can't. I'm going to try and make my blog posts shorter. It's just getting all the pregnancy stuff in here as well as other bits of my life, it takes a lot of sentences! I know all my posts probably look really daunting and any people who might read them, probably only get to the second paragraph... Everybody else probably just looks at my blog and thinks "WOAH no, fuck that. I'll be here all day." It's actually really annoying when I'm trying to read everything I've wrote and see if there are any mistakes :P So, I promise, next one will be shorter, for my own sake as well as yours. Maybe only a little bit though. I can't work miracles. I've always wrote too much. In year 3 we were told to write a short story and I wrote ten pages worth. In year three that is a lot. Everyone called me a geek :)

Write soon xo

Monday, March 23, 2009

The Post Break Up Blog.

So here it goes. I want to write till my heart is content, because it's really really not content. In fact it's uncontent - if that's a word. I might go on a bit too much now, I'm not thinking so much about the phrasing of my sentences or whether I'm telling a good story or not, I'm literally just doing this so my own head-space is less crammed.
It's been one of those kind of weeks where you experience enough drama to be spread across your whole year. So many occurences should not be able to happen in the space of 7 days - there's no way you can have any kind of hold on your life then. Life just kind of travels with the wind, like a kite, you dragging along behind it shouting "Wait for me, Life!"
I kissed another guy and split up with my boyfriend (which was my idea). He wanted me back, rather than the other way round. To most people who lost their other halves through cheating, this would be a dream come true, but I needed to feel like I'd lost everything - I didn't want him to feel he'd lost everything, which judging by his facebook status - he does. I needed time to think, think about what I want, or who I want, if we're being specific. I know I love him, but I'm young. The world at sixteen years old looks like a lot of options and a lot of fun - (when you live in Britain, because I watch American programmes all the time and I swear the girls on those shows are like 21 and still virgins, which is cool but really rare around here.) When you're in love, even though it's absolutely lovely, wonderful, amazing while it's there - it restricts you. It builds a box around you. If you fell in love young, and like me, you wanted to stay with that person for a long long time, you might have started to worry that you'll constantly be lusting after other people, because you'd have never experienced anyone or anything else. How unhealthy is that? Maybe it's not, maybe it's just normal. Maybe I should of stuck it out and put up with the lust until it disappeared. Maybe love beats lust if you manage to resist it. Maybe I'm just being me and trying to justify my rash actions by long twisty sentences.
The guy I kissed: I stayed at house on Saturday and we had sex, it was a joyful drunken encounter, and that made it brilliant for me, purely for the fact I got to do something I wanted to, because I was a free woman (girl) at last. Whether the sex was actually that magnificent doesn't even come into the equation; I did something I wanted to do. As soon as my boyfriend... ex-boyfriend... started ringing me I felt guilt washing over the eyes that a minute ago looked back to my weekend with happy thoughts. I suddenly looked at everything with a pain in the heart and a funny feeling in the stomach. He rings a hell of a lot if you don't answer, he's very persistant. Big guilty feelings for every time he calls, and you will actually feel like a pile of poo on the floor by the end of the night.
I asked him to give me a day where I could just think. I can't think when I'm being told what an awful person I am and what a terrible thing I've done, asked if I've made a final decision, or told I'm loved. That's weird! I don't want to be told I'm loved! It's churning my stomach, not him saying it, of course not - That somebody is actually wasting the love in their heart on me! I know I've done an awful thing right? But we did break up before I slept with that guy. It's just, now he's found about it and he has to know everything; he just has to. He will not give up until I admit defeat and tell him all the details he nags for, and you know how he wins? He makes me swear from the bottom of my heart, or swear on his life. Manipulative creature. I can't swear on his life, I'm too supersticious - I care about his life, if I lied and he lost it, Jesus - I would be wrecked forever. I don't care how ridiculous I might sound, I now know that I am pathetic, and needy, I know that I've lost a brilliant thing and there's a high possibility he'll read this so I shouldn't say the next bit, but I am going to anyway. Sometimes I just give up caring - I've gone past a point.
I don't want to leave the guy I had sex with. I'm sorry. There are reasons for this and probably not the right ones.
Before I had sex willingly with the boyfriend I've just split up with, I was raped. I was raped when I was fourteen and before that other nasty sexual stuff happened to me - and that was that, close of play, end of a chapter, or so I thought. Where I live, it's not the biggest of places - and in a week, if you go out of your house, you will without knowing it see some of the same people that you saw yesterday. They're complete strangers to you, i.e you don't know a thing about them and you don't know their name, but your head knows who they are, even if it doesn't put a name to them, it recognises their face - so strangers aren't really strangers at all. I see the person who raped me once every blue moon and it's a part that hurts (not the biggest part that hurts, he took my virginity without my permission - that hurts the most). Looking at someone that's been inside you and knowing they'll never say a word to you in your life, you were just another accomplishment, it kills me. I know some people may think that's daft, why would I even want the man who did that to me to speak to me? I don't know the answer to that. I think people that have one night stands a lot of the time and secretely hate themselves - I think they'd be able to relate with how I feel. In fact, anyone that's had a sexual experience with someone that just saw them as a body - something to use it as a place to put their wilkins, never a person to make love to - they would understand it. It's the whole, passing somebody who was once inside you, a part of you for a brief moment in your life, but never saying a word to you, never continuing to be in your life.
I guess my views on sex are somewhat tainted, and I thought I was really strongly moralled when it came to who I would give it up to. I was when it came to my ex boyfriend. It took so much time and consideration and it was completely the right thing to do. I'd like to still believe I am strongly moralled. I've had sex with two people now, the second one was the other day and I knew I could trust him, but sometimes there's no thinking involved in my decisions, I know something should happen and will happen if I just let everything go naturally and how it's meant to... Surely it wouldn't have happened if it was the wrong thing for me to do?
I feel that if I chose to get back with my now-ex boyfriend, for reasons such as the fact that it's breaking my heart to see him sad like this... If I left the guy I had sex with - what would I say? "I had sex with you a couple of days ago and now I'm off. See you later though yeah? Like, never, loser." That's not me and it would make me cry more than never getting back with my ex boyfriend. I'd be treating it as a mistake, just a random silly encounter. I can't treat sex like that - I have to treat it like a beautiful thing, even if secretely, in my head it wasn't so perfect. Imagine if I did break it off with the guy I just had sex with. I'd see him again and know that he's been inside me but we'll never talk again; de ja vu; an all too familar feeling - I can't hurt myself like that. I already have to feel that every so often about one person, but I have no choice over the matter, as I had no choice in any matter concerning that person. I have control over this one.
Every time my ex boyfriend rings me I'm aggitated. I'm aggitated when he speaks. I think it's the fact than whenever he rings, I know it's going to take too long, and he repeats himself a lot, and a lot of the time gets narky if I don't wanna continue the conversation for an extra ten minutes. The new guy - well, he's not much of a phone person like me, he rings for a reason, I ring him for a reason. Still, love. It's an issue isn't it?
It doesn't conquer all, because it's not conquering this. I'll get some tosser saying "Well then it was never love." Maybe it wasn't? Maybe love should be where you love somebody's every fault as well as all their good bits, and maybe it should be where it's completely impossible to cheat on someone because you love them so damn much. Don't think this didn't occur to me when I was kissing that guy, don't think I didn't doubt whether I truly loved my boyfriend. I did doubt.
But seeing my ex boyfriend laugh makes me laugh, seeing him smile makes me smile, seeing him cry makes me cry, seeing me breaking his heart breaks mine. Calling him my ex boyfriend makes me frustrated. He was the perfect person for me to lose my proper virginity (as I call it) to. It was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make in my life. If I'd have made a wrong turn there, I'd be unsettled for life. I needed my proper first time to be nothing like my rape. I needed to make love, and that's what we did - I am so thankful for that. He completed my life for the last three months and was the very air I'd breathe when I woke up in the morning. Now I breathe frustration, because I wake up to him ringing me. I don't know what's happened.
He just rang me actually and took up quite a lot of time. I feel I'll never get everything that I'm keeping built up out and into the open, something always interrupts, disrupts or annoys me.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

A Rubbish Night For A Social Reject.

Have you ever been to a place that makes you feel a complete outcast? A place that makes you feel completely ugly and not good enough? In your heart you know that you're different, and different should be a good thing, but for that moment, that awful out-of-place moment, you just wanna be a clone of everybody else and lose that special individuality that you posess? Maybe you don't ever feel that. Maybe you're completely confident in yourself at all times and proud that people look at you and never get you mixed up with another person. I don't know.
Tonight, well, last night - it's 3.28a.m now - I went to this... thing. You know, they hold em in nightclubs, those events. Loadsa music and people. All the girls get dollied up and all the boys go there to take the girls home. That's my opinion of em anyway. It was held in a rock club, one that one of my friend's go to. A friend that dresses quite alternatively, has a funny odd personality and a music taste slightly similar to mine. I just assumed I could dress how I dressed when I went along to similar places with her. Like me. Baggy tops, an army jacket, (or a leather one depending on the mood), denim shorts, black tights and black boots. I was even considering wearing my big baggy jeans and black trainers, a khaki vest top, with a tie. I'm glad I didn't do that, I would've felt worse. Nobody wants somebody with an Avril inspired style when you have Barbie copycats. When we got there, I instantly felt low. Looking around, I was the only girl not wearing heels, not showing their arms, not showing their legs. I think I was probably the only one without a fake tan, hair extensions and false eyelashes too. Whilst, I know that once upon a time I've had a similar image to these girls, I know what kind of boys it attracts (and I wasn't looking to attract any boys, I had my boyfriend on my arm, a guy I'm happily loved up with)... I felt more than insecure looking down at what I was wearing. It's not the first time I've felt scruffy or poor this past month.
They were playing boom boom chav music. I can so dance to this kinda music when I'm drunk. Under 18's event = no alcohol to be served. Another downfall to the night. I'm not confident around hundreds of people my age that I've never met, and some that I've briefly known at some point that keep passing me by and tapping me on the shoulder and saying, "Pixie? Y'alright love?" or just glaring at me with a look of pure disgust because I shouldn't be there, it's not my thing. I need alcohol for confidence! It's a sad thing to say, but since the age of... twelve...(?) that's been the sad truth.
I wanted to go home. God, I wanted to go home so much. It was so busy - and I am so claustrophobic and retarded. I was in the loo almost having a panic attack because some really loud girls were smoking weed in there. I've smoked weed before, I still will if it's offered to me, and I've been a loud girl before (and still am if in the right circumstances). But when you're in a place like that... It's different innit? Anyway I think that was what scared me. Knowing what a bitch I was, how keen I was to start confrontation with anybody different to my group, knowing how I'd laugh at people and take the piss purely to boost my own ego. Knocking other people's confidence down to build up your own. Something I've been saying a lot lately, cos I've been seeing a lot of it, and remembering myself. I know what to expect, because I've been there.
I've lived that life and I don't see what's so special about it. Your morals are a load of messed up bollocks and guys just lap it up, because you let em. You flush your natural beauty down the toilet and replace it with plastic beauty, and all you know how to do is "have a laugh" and "get fucked" (and both meanings of getting fucked.)
But, all I know how to do is sit around waiting for life to happen and waiting for somebody else to make me motivated. All I know how to do is talk about my feelings because I know them oh too well, and wallow in my misery. That, I'm brilliant at.
I got my boyfriend to come home with me, even though he wanted to dance. I hated the sweaty ming mongs on the dance floor all sweaty and minging, they made me feel sick. And like if you entered their dance floor you got yelled at because apparently they didn't have enough room. I left, and I was gonna go see some people with him... But I just decided to go home. I feel low. I'm writing with character but I don't feel like I have any when I'm actually speaking. I think, I'm so drained of motivation, I don't actually want my character conveying through my words. I think it's such an easier ride to hide yourself and shut up. But, nobody reads this. So I'm cool.
He's been out with his friends for a bit, had a bit of trouble with the police. Anyway, he's coming here. He has his own key to get in. In fact I think he might be here now, cos I can hear creeping downstairs. I'll stop typing even though I wanted to google the word conveying, cos I dunno if it meant what I was trying to say.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

The First Proper Blog & A Bit About Me.

If I'm in a bad mood and I'm writing something, I just feel like putting: AFJEHRJFHJAR. BANG BANG. Or something. I'm in a slightly bad mood, but I'll just stick with what I was gonna do and not act like a toddler. I'm going to try my best to tell you about me.
Firstly, I am a Brit. I always find that internetey things, like blogs and youtube vlogs seem to be more American than English, Irish or Scottish or Welsh. Maybe they can express themselves more, while we sit at home watching Corrie and drinking tea. Or maybe just because they have a higher population. I wish I was American a lot of the time. If I had've gone to school there, I'm sure I would've had a much nicer time than the time spent in education here. I could've been on a cheerleading squad - and worn my own clothes to school, you know, for a sense of individuality, instead of - Hello, look at us, we clearly all love blue jumpers and black trousers. I hated school, I truly did. I'm sixteen years old and a half. I don't know why people put "and a half" after their age because they're writing or saying it to look older, but because we know that, it makes em look younger. However, I put it so you know, that in less than six months, I shall be 17. And 17's a good age. It's two odd digits.
My boyfriend wants me to let him read this blog, but this thought bugs me. It's bugging me quite a lot as I'm writing. If you know that nobody you know is gonna see something, you can do whatever you like, cos you don't tend to care as much what the people you don't know think of you. I feel horrible because I'm being all secretive about it, but what if one day he really pissed me off and I wanted to sign into blogspot and write a long ranty rant about what a douche he is? Shortly after I'd get a text saying "Oh thanks a fucking lot!" That would not be good. Just thinking about the future babes. Of course, I'm gonna let him read it, I can't be mean. Not good to have ways of keeping tabs on me though. A girl might start to rebel.
I missed college today, I can't wake up in the mornings now. I wonder whether some things are fate, or part of a big plan. Maybe there's a reason I felt oddly depressed at 3am the other night, and couldn't go to sleep because my boyfriend wanted to talk to me, and I kinda needed to talk to him, even though I was absolutely shattered. My sleeping pattern evidently gets fucked up and maybe that's because I was meant to miss college today. Or am I being too Mystic Meg about things?

Introduction

I had a blog way before this one. I have about sixty hotmail accounts due to my love of change, so I have no idea what I signed up with. I'm silly, I don't write things down. I reckon I must think that I'm Super Woman sometimes. I believed that my memory would hold the email address and password I used, and the other sixty I've used to sign up to other things; myspace, facebook, all that. I can think of countless times where I've arranged to do something with someone and not wrote it down, purely because I've thought; I can't possibly forget that; and then forgot it, and had a lecture to recieve, and a falling out to follow. This time I've wrote the email address down, and the password. So, no forgetting! For once. :)
Some blogs on here are shit. If you make one, it's most probably because you wanted some way of sharing your life with other people, because you think the events that take place in it are interesting enough to make a good read. But there's some that are literally just like...
"got an a on my history report and im going to the cinema later with ben. katie's really stressing me out lately and my mom and dad are too. anyway gotta shower catch you later bye."
What the fuck is that.
I'm making this, in the hope that it can provide at least a little bit of entertainment. And maybe, that after reading a bit, you might know a bit about me, the life I live and the people in it. Sometimes it's good to read about a complete stranger. It gives you a break from your own life, and if you find similarities with yourself and somebody half way across the globe - that's quite cool too. After writing this I hope people do actually read it, or won't I look like the most foolish girl ever, ever? Not that anybody will know that I'm foolish, because nobody will've read it.