Dear haters...

As I happily watched the debate that my latest blog on love addiction caused from the safety of my boyfriend's house earlier today,  I couldn't help but feel a little pleased. Through the dedication of my loved ones, my blog has nearly reach 1100 views which makes me happier than a dog released in a meat factory. I'm rather glad that I'm causing a little bit of healthy debate to fill up students heads that have been draining over the holidays, while raising awareness of some vital issues that need to be addressed. So thank you everyone!

Anyway, as I sat wasting my life away on Facebook, a person who I consider to be one of my best friends approached me and asked me to write about something that he holds very dear to his heart and, well, considering I was out of ideas for today and feeling particularly lethargic I thought, why the hell not? I can't churn out amazing ideas all the time, can I? So while I pass on my thanks to him for giving me another subject to rant about, I want to thank him for entrusting me to raise awareness for him - it means so much to me. So, as per request, today I am going to hopefully eradicate any preconceived prejudices and stereotypes that people, particularly of the LGBT community face in the modern day world.

In 2010, recorded hate crimes in England, Wales and Northern Ireland fell by seven per cent - but crimes based on sexual orientation, transgender status and disability rose. According to these figures, which were released last year by the Association of Chief Police Officers, crimes based on faith and race decreased substantially between 2009 and 2010. There were a recorded 51,920 hate crimes based on race, religion, sexual orientation, transgender status and disability in 2009. The following year, the figure fell to 48,127.

While that's all fine and dandy and definitely something to shout about, the overall figures for anti - gay crimes rose from 4,085 offences to 4,883. There was a fourteen per cent increase in recorded transphobic crimes across the country and crimes against disable people rose by twenty one per cent.

We all know what hate crimes are, but, in the simplest terms, it is a crime committed against another person, which is motivate by the perpetrators prejudice towards the victim. It can manifest as verbal abuse, threatening behaviour, physical violence, damaging property and, in extreme cases, murder.  Hate crime is very different to other crimes as it has an increased detrimental impact on the victim, due to its personal nature.

It absolutely infuriates me that some people these days are so shallow minded and feel that they can judge others on their life choices or disabilities, and that they feel justified to seek them out for it. It especially annoys me because some of the kindest, happiest and most humble people I know are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender. I have had the privilege of knowing people who are diagnosed as disabled and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that they are some of the most wonderful people I have ever met.

The sad truth is that people commit hate crimes because they just don't know about people who are different to what they consider 'the norm', because they are either too ignorant to educate themselves or too scared of a way of life dissimilar to their own. So, class, pick a seat. Have a cup of hot chocolate and a biscuit. Pull out a notepad with a nice new biro and get learning.

Let's begin. So what is a Transsexual?

People who may be described as Transsexual have a deep conviction that their gender identity does not match that of their appearance and therefore, they wish to present to the world in a different gender to that which they were assigned at birth. The majority undergo hormone therapy, oestrogens or testosterone, depending upon their birth gender and the gender that they wish to acquire legally. Most will also undergo some surgery to bring their bodies in line with their gender identity.  In the broad sense of the term, the person crosses the line of the social norm of gender by dressing and presenting themselves in the preferred gender role.

Often, the term transsexual is misleading and many assume that it is about sexual orientation, but, contrary to what most people believe, it is more so an issue of gender identity. The term originates from the good old Americans and it works to describe the identities of a range of people whose lifestyles appear to conflict with the gender norms of society.

Now, we all know what gays, lesbians and bisexuals are, but here's lesson number two all the same. Gays and lesbians or, to give the correct term, homosexuals, refer to those who are attracted only to members of the same sex or gender. Contrary to popular belief, gay men do not love dressing up in pink 24/7 or love to go shoe shopping, (believe me - dragging a gay man around Top shop for 10 minutes is a painful as it would be with any straight man.) They do not stress about how they look any more than the average man does and they are not constantly jolly. The same goes for lesbians - they do not necessarily have their hair sheared or just kiss on camera for a hit video on red tube. Sorry to disappoint you lads, but lesbians are just an 'normal' as any other women. And you wouldn't have a chance with one in a million years.

"Dear World,

Contrary to popular belief, I don't hate homosexuals

Sincerely God "

Moving swiftly onto us bisexual lot, who balance happily on the fence. The amount of times I have been referred to as 'greedy' or wanting to 'have my cake and eat it to', (which, I'll point out, is a RIDICULOUS because no one in their right mind would have a slice of cake and NOT eat it), is beyond a joke. I'm all up for a laugh and whatnot, but sometimes, people cross the line. I like men. I like women. Does that mean I am going to be condemned to the very depths of hell? NO. And even if I am, what do I care? I might even catch that tan I've been hoping for all summer.

Now, what do we consider as a disabled person?

A disability ranges from physical, cognitive, mental, sensory, emotional, developmental or some combination of these. It can be present from birth, or occur during a person's lifetime. The Disability Discrimination Act (DDA) defines a disabled person as someone who has a physical or mental impairment that has a substantial and long term effect on his or her ability to carry out normal day - to - day activities such as eating, washing, walking or generally undertaking tasks without assistance.

The term, like transsexual, is an umbrella term which covers nearly all aspects of disabilities, from impairments, activity limitations, and participation restrictions, which are all different aspects of disability. It is a complex phenomenon, that reflects an interaction between features of a person's body and the features of the society in which he or she lives.

Personally, I am a strong believer that my thoughts, ideologies and life choices belong to me and me alone. Punishing someone for thinking differently to you, acting differently to you or generally being different, is absolutely disgraceful and I don't think that society should really have a say in what is normal. For me, the more I grow and learn about society, it's kind of scary to realise that normal may be a wide array of variables. Things that are normal to me, such as discussing how good looking a girl is with my boyfriend or calling Domino's just to order desserts, is probably not normal to you. Nobody is 'normal' these days and if any one finds out what it entails, please let me know and we'll compare ourselves.

The fact is that there is no excuse for any form of hate crime because all people are equal whether we are gay, transgender, bisexual, lesbian, thin, fat, disabled, men or women, black or white. In the wise words of a Yiddish Proverb;"Everyone is kneaded out of the same dough, but not baked in the same oven." Deal with it.

The ugly truth of love addiction

Today, as I sat down with my kindle to re-read the Harry Potter series all over again, I couldn't help but admit to myself that I have a serious problem regarding my lack of reading materials beyond Alice in Wonderland and Fifty shades of Grey. So I decided to broaden my horizons and do what any bored student these days is doing, which is to stare at the news feed on Facebook and hope something interesting comes up. And today, lo and behold, it actually happened.

If you've been watching Oprah recently, (and who hasn't?), you'll have seen Rihanna's latest interview with the Queen of American TV, which has brought the issue of abuse and the complex relationship women share with their abusers back to the forefront of conversation. Lots of men and women around Britain and even the world, understand the conflict of complex emotions that Rihanna describes in her interview. Wishing to be in a relationship with someone who spells out bad news and not wanting to let them go is categorized as 'love addiction', which says it all in the title, and is explained further in this video ---> What is Love Addiction? 

The problem with love addiction is the potential of emotional loss, and the detriments to both mental and physical health - ending in life threatening situations sometimes. To anyone who is out there reading this thinking the love addiction is a sort of modern day jargon that the media is spewing at us to scare us, well, sorry to burst your idyllic little bubbles but,  you're wrong. I'm writing this to let you all know how very real it all is, how very scary it all is and how much it has kept me down since I started getting involved in relationships.  If a lot has been said about the consistency of love addiction, abusive relationships or co dependency, I seem to have missed it. Now I look at it properly, it's a no brainer that these three would go hand in hand.

The recovery from love addiction or co- dependency is much more difficult than recovering from more tangible addictions such as alcohol, drugs, gambling or, in my case, shopping for shoes. And clothes. And chocolate chip cookies from Tesco. You can't cut the world out and go cold turkey on the whole thing - learning how to handle your attachments to others may sound like a walk in the park when actually, (especially with those who have experienced early damaged relationships), it is like learning how to run before walking. Speaking from experience, I have to say the hardest part of all that is being able to recognise what a healthy relationship is and what it isn't, because sometimes, it's absolutely impossible to tell. Is it alright if your partner screams bloody murder at you because you forget to pick up some milk up for the cat on the way home from work? Is it ok for them to humiliate you in front of your friends or family? Is it ok for them to cheat or lie to you?  NO. Whether you are male or female, that behaviour is unacceptable. Yet, I have been through these relationships and somehow, made enough excuses to convince myself to stick around.  Abusive relationships eat away at self esteem and confidence, and, sadly, victims believe that they aren't strong enough to leave.

You all may not think I'm the type to tolerate being effectively bossed around; I like to think that  I am a somewhat intelligent, (I passed my driving test first time round, right?), confident, (despite being depressed) and accomplished young woman, who knows where she is going in life. My downfall is that there is some part of me that has persistently ignored the bad traits in an individual and focused on their good traits. The problem is that when we are programmed that way, we find it difficult to condemn the way people are treating us and therefore, difficult to leave. It's even more difficult to leave when we fear being alone with the voices in our head. No? Guess that's just me then...

The issue with abusive relationships is that most people refuse to accept that they are in one, because it is so difficult to categorize what abuse is. So, what do we imagine when we hear the words 'abusive relationship?'

Most of us jump to the obvious conclusion and dream up violent scenarios, mostly consisting of women playing the role of victim, with friends coming into school with a black eye after a fight with their partner, or women being beaten by their partners. (Typical sexism if I ever saw it.)

The fact is that victims of abusive relationships don't always have the obvious symptoms like noticeable bruising or black eyes. In fact, many people in abusive relationships have never had a finger laid on them by their boyfriend of girlfriend.  The media highlights the violent side of abusive relationships because it's so much easier to recognise but, abuse comes in all shapes and sizes. Emotional violence can cause just as much damage as physical abuse without leaving a visible scratch. The problem with that is that people with little or no relationship experience can confuse possessiveness and jealousy with love, and not recognise that their partner is actually abusing them.

Words are just as bad as fists 

Contrary to popular belief, abusive relationships aren't abusive all of the time, so it is common for victims to downplay the abuse and focus on the good qualities that their partner has. Additionally, victims are often scared of what their partner might do if they break up. Just because they say they're going to kill themselves if you leave them, doesn't mean that they will. And sometimes, it may not even be a bad thing if they go through with it.

Yes I'm joking! I think..

Anyway, I think that the worst abuse is at the hands of the individual - it has been at my own hands that I suffered the most in the situations that I tolerated for so long. It has been no easy road to recovery and I think I have gained about fifty stone in eating Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Now I look back on it, I think I have always been a co dependent, a title I have branded myself with and struggled to escape from for many years. Thankfully, a network of supportive people who were in the right place at the right time woke me up with a bucket full of icy reality, along with books that described how I was feeling in detail. It was such a relief to have a label to my strangely wonderful behaviour of love addiction.

It isn't an issue that is exactly publicised as much as more commonly heard addictions. I would say that love addiction is on par with alcoholism and it often hides behind other addictions so it's so much harder to spot. It's a problem I've recently overcome by choosing a healthier partner and discussing these issues through counselling. The focus is already shifting onto what should be the most important thing at the moment; MY LIFE.

Now that I'm in a better place, I'd like to think that if I was confronted with another man who cannot respect me, I'd walk away before that anger had a chance to turn for the worst. The freedom to be who I want without being argued with 24/7 has given me the chance to get writing blogs like this, and become that person that I would never have had the confidence to be before. 

I'll think of an appropriate title later...

As autumn approaches, and we find that we are packing away the sun cream we never got to use and giving the umbrella's a more pride of place in the house, (I suggest the mantelpiece), I wonder how I am going to motivate myself for the next semester of university. At the moment, I am watching people finish off the vital DIY work that's been going on, (if you've been living under our roof this summer, that is), getting ready for their new and exciting jobs and preparing their pencil cases, (which will be decimated in five weeks), for the new school term, and  I cannot help but wonder why I am not as motivated as these wonderful individuals. It may be due to the fact that, I am a student who has been on holiday since May 21st. Or, it could be that these people don't exist and that Britain is in the steely grip of procrastination. I'll go with the latter.

I can almost hear the delightful melody of the final countdown in the air as we fast approach September. If any undergraduates out there are anything like me, apart from being slightly barmy, then all 300,000 of us are struggling to remember how it feels to compose a decent essay. We are wondering how our alarm clocks actually work and trying to remember what the outside world looks like before midday.

While I love procrastinating, even I have to admit that it's a bit of a curse. I can't really remember the last time I set foot into the library at my university without staring into space, gazing absentmindedly at the sexy boys cramming for their final exams, logging into my iTunes account or planning my night out with my flatmates. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever sat down in the library to do some decent work.  I prefer sitting on my bed , with my Friends box set blaring and highlighting notes, while convincing myself that, "Yes Gemma; This IS proper revision. Ish.."

In case it hasn't been made fully clear yet, I am a fully paid member of the hardcore procrastinators crew. I never open my bank statements, which I instead leave lying round the house, hoping my mother will find them. I run in the opposite direction when I see an email marked as urgent. I didn't sort out my student loan until the very last minute, my module choices for next year still aren't sorted, (not completely my fault by the way!) and I cannot write an essay or an article, (although I intend to be a journalist) until the deadline is at my feet, yapping like a lost puppy.

So, I thought, how can I combat my severe procrastination disorder?

Well, recently I read that a professor of the Haskayne School of Business at the University of Calgary, conducted extensive research into the topic and found that 95% of us, (Yes Dad, ALL OF US), procrastinate at some point. Professor Joseph Ferrari of DePaul University Chicago found that 20% of the world's population are chronic procrastinators, complicating their lives and, in the long run, shortening them, with delaying and task avoidance.

So those figures sort of freaked me out. Procrastinators are less wealthy, more likely to have health issues and more unhappy than those who don't avoid their unpleasant chores.  I suppose it's always nice to have a bit of money, always nice to be able to breathe without wheezing and always, of course, nice to feel happy.

Despite all this, I can't help but love the art of procrastination, especially when I get to hear all the little stories people have made up to justify their behaviour, (me included.) I'll scream it until I am blue in the face, but I certainly do not work better under pressure.  I end up more irritable than any girl would be during her period so God forbid you are around me nearing a deadline. I once threw a book at someone and, yes, it may have missed, but that's just because I'm a female with poor aim. I was still pretty stressed out. Let's face it, we love to leave things until the last minute, but our behaviour always leaves others feelings annoyed and inconvenienced, while we feel flustered and sometimes ashamed of our stress heads.

The fact is that no one enjoys seeing the deadline pass us by. The angry university tutor who is handed in an essay late is exactly the same as the boss who's told that the new business plans won't be with him until next Monday. We get angry, we cry, excuses (or rather, blatant lies) are spewed out and people are fired.  The odd balls of our society - (you know the ones - the hyper organised, punctual types), are unable to fathom the addictive quality that procrastination instills.

"I love deadlines - I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by."

Douglas Adams

Procrastination just feels felonious, doesn't it? Especially in a world society where history shows that swift action is commendable and even a moral good sometimes. Leaders who sped into conflicts, such as Margaret Thatcher in the Falklands War or George Bush in Iraq, are often more widely admired than those who are too cautious.

Professor Pier Steel is under the impression that humans are programmed to procrastinate, which makes me feel a hell of a lot better about doing it all the time. However, he suggests two ways of combating procrastination which I've actually tried and well.. I did alright. I got this blog written instead of playing the Sims 3 didn't I?

So the first idea is obvious - breaking the task down into small chunks which are easier to digest and easier to work through methodically, which, I know, never works, so we'll bypass that one. The second is absolutely magic and is probably the only reason this blog is being written right now - give a TRUSTED friend £50, with the ruling that if you do not complete the undertaken task in the time given or whatever, that they must give it away to a political party or cause that you really don't agree with. It'll work wonders, believe you me.  

Additionally, you need to get yourself sorted. I know it's difficult to crawl out of bed in the morning all perky and ready to get organised, but it is do able. For me, I let my very capable and accomplished mother, (HI MAM!) sort through my files that have long been forgotten or check out my bank balance when I'm too scared to do so. It's not advisable, but it's a last resort while you're trying to get over your procrastination disorder.  

I've been dossing around on planet earth for nearly 20 years now, refusing that I am getting closer to adulthood each day and refusing to accept and complete all of the boring responsibilities that come with that. I'm still the over - sleeping, homework - avoiding, procrastinating, last minute working and now in debt student that I was when I first set foot into full time education. I suppose that all the fun in life comes from pushing your stress levels through the roof the night before an exam and giving yourself the adrenaline rush that comes with using your debit card and wondering if it'll get rejected.  But now, I am someone's big sister, with a loan pilling up, bills I have to pay, essays to write and lectures to attend. Turns out that other people's happiness and peace of mind are starting to depend on mine.

So, my lovely readers, to beg the question, "To procrastinate, or not to procrastinate?" my answer is simple; I'd love to say my procrastinating days are finished but I'd be lying.  The fact is that procrastination is too addictive for me to quit. However, using the tips that some very smart cookie type people have provided me with, (in so many words), via the internet, I think my procrastination days are about to become a lot easier to handle, while certain causes become a lot richer at my expense. 

Now, what was I meant to be doing before I started writing this blog...

http://procrastinators-anonymous.org/  - So you suffers can recognise, pull together and prevent the dire consequences of putting off today what could be achieved within at least the next millennium.

Long live the Queen?

I haven't been keeping exactly up to date on my blogging lately. I'd just like to point out that this isn't because I've finally succumbed to peer pressure and become the lazy student I was destined to be, but because I've been very busy, what with my moping around, sleeping from dawn till dusk, and doing my womanly duties from sandwich making to washing dishes. Obviously, I joke - as a woman, sandwich making isn't time consuming at all.

The reality is that I decided to try out my social skills and venture into the great outdoors, (which isn't that great, by the way), and spend an evening without my arse being glued to the sofa. So yes, I went out. I went out to the capital of Wales, (which is Cardiff, if you can't remember, or just don't know), to see the one and only Michael McIntyre.

Now, obviously, I spent my entire evening clutching my sides, hoping I hadn't cracked any ribs and complaining of aching cheek syndrome on both face and arse. If you have never had the privilege to see Michael McIntyre live, I thoroughly recommend it. Not only were the jokes hilarious, but the fact that some Welsh drunk decided to climb onto stage to find his partner in the crowd only made my night better and confirmed that Welsh people are the barmiest of them all. I have never been more proud to be Welsh than I was in that second. But that's for another blog. 

Sadly, I'm not writing this blog to glorify all that is Michael McIntyre, because I'm a very serious person who writes about very serious things in a very serious manner... Seriously. So, instead, I'm going to pick up on one of his jokes and embellish it in my own special way, (if you want to see the joke, buy the DVD in November and don't expect me to do all the work for you.) To my anti - royalist audience, prepare to hate me as I ask the question- Why are the monarchy so awesome?

The Queen and Prince Philip flanked by their four children, (who I didn't realise they had) : Prince Charles, Prince Andrew, Princess Anne and Prince Edward. 

So, 2012 has been an amazing year for the monarchy, hasn't it? We threw the Queen a party for sitting on her throne for an incredible sixty years, (mostly for our own enjoyment rather than hers, but never mind that), she went one better and threw herself out of a helicopter with James Bond, good ol' Charles and Camilla presented the weather, (which you must watch here ---> Any sign of reign? ) and we were introduced to a side of the monarchy that makes them seem more human, as opposed to their superhuman wealth. Seeing Kate Middleton with Prince William, Harry and his girlfriend who know one knows the name of, fraternizing with their subjects, just emphasised that the monarchy is already being passed down to a younger generation, as the Queens public appearances become few and far between, and the youth of Buck Pal, (doubt Liz will mind if I call it that), are increasingly seen socialising with the common wealth.

There are many reasons why I think the monarchy are amazing. Sure, some argue that they cost more than their worth out of the pocket of the average taxpayer, and that the Queen makes 'no difference' to Britain because she wields less control over the British public than parliament, Tesco's, Sky and Virgin media.

Le youth of Buck Pal. 

How can that possibly be true? The Queen and the Royal family are iconic to Britain! Other countries are green with envy because Liz and the crew are so awesome! Frankly, we Brits don't have much to be proud of, other than a good few medals in the recent Olympics and an industrial revolution that happened before my grandparents were even dreamed up. We aren't exactly rich at the moment, and personally, I find British history absolutely dire - I literally want to behead myself along with Anne Boleyn when someone mentions Britain post 1900s. But, that fact is that the monarchy is mostly what our history consists of. It has been a part of Britain for centuries and it essentially makes us who we are. I have never really considered myself to be British over Welsh, but when I watched the Royal Wedding, I could not have felt more unified with the UK. The Royal Family may be a hindrance to those who think that they present a stiff, upper lip image of being British, but fact is that we just don't mind. They fill us Brits with national pride. Let us enjoy at least one part of our heritage that doesn't involve Shakespeare or The Beatles without wondering where we went wrong.

 The Queen makes a massive contribution to Britain, even if we don't really notice it. Despite if you love or hate the government, you have to admit that Lizzie would do a much better job of running the country - elderly people tend to make resolving diplomatic issues much easier, with the promise of cookies and milk. Frankly, it would be a much more satisfactory way of preserving a head of state. It's a constant ruling which means there would be no need for elections every few years or referendums pouring in left. right and centre. To meet the Queen would be an honour. For me, meeting a Prime Minister representing a political party that express ideals different to my own, would not be an honour. The royals are free from political influence and therefore, they can rise above and represent us abroad to all colours of political views.

Despite what anti - monarchists say, I really do think that the Queen brings a hell of a lot of money into the UK through the tourism sector. The sense of ancient continuity and heritage is one of the main things that attracts the tourists to London. The Americans especially can't get enough of posing next to the Queen's Guard and frankly, neither can we. We love taking the piss out of those guys. You wouldn't find many tourists posing outside Number 10 Downing Street with a potted fern. The sad truth is that Prime Ministers are grey, boring and far too concerned with feathering their own nests. The government just doesn't instil the patriotism that the Royal Family do.

AWWHH! 

Plus, the Queen is so cute! I don't know about you guys, but I'm always awwhing to myself whenever she plods onto my TV screen with the Duke of Edinburgh whispering racist jokes in her ear, (he's such a sweetheart, bless him.)  You wouldn't catch me doing that if it were David Cameron, Nick Clegg or Ed Miliband.

I'll admit that having a hereditary head of state seems a bit archaic and undemocratic sometimes, and maybe some people get a little bored with it, but I'll bet what little cash I have in my bank that if any member of the royal family damaged our country in the future, or even abused their positions of power, (which they're far too polite to do), we would swiftly become a republic state, which would make a good Christmas present for my boyfriend. And because of that, we keep them in check and in return, they do the same. Point is, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Simple as. 

Confessions of an embarrassing body

Has anyone ever watched Embarrassing Bodies on Channel Four? Ok, I admit, that's a bit of a stupid question - who hasn't be forced to watch it by their overly interested friends and family at some point?  As a society, watching other people on TV who have abnormal issues with their bodies makes us feel somewhat better about ourselves. We breathe a little easier and add a few more dollops of mayonnaise to our chips , while laughing at someone's haphazard boob job, turning to disgust as we realise their 'tits' are actually two massive hernias on their stomach.  We enjoy deluding ourselves in  the comfort that the possibility of us ever having to reach out to a TV show like that for help  is a billion to one. We like to think that, because we have watched someone have surgery on their foreskins or have great lumps of fat cut from their bodies, we have a little more knowledge on the subject of health that your average Joe.

How can that be true? Frankly, I spend half my time averting my eyes and screaming silently in a corner when Embarrassing Bodies comes on. Come off it, no one actually wants to watch the surgery going on, and no one actually wants to learn what to look out for in case we all turn into hypochondriacs and start googling ourselves. (Don't say you've never done it.)

If you're aspiring to be a doctor, a nurse or you just want to mislead yourself in to believing you've contracted HIV when you have an ear infection then, sure, Embarrassing Bodies is the show for you. It's quirky, with good looking doctors, some nice theme music in the background and with a few family friendly images.

I'll spare those of you who have only seen the adverts, (that want to make you change the channel in themselves), the gory details. What I will say, though, is that I have never sat through any other program for sixty minutes gasping with horror and hiding behind my hands all the while. Not even  while watching any of the Saw movies.

The gist of the program is that patient, who is too embarrassed to see their local doctor, decides to broadcast their problems to the world, which, their doctor will probably see anyway. Each patient is videoed waiting to be seen, sitting on some green sofa in a room that can only be described as limbo-like. Everything looks nice and relaxed and normal, until they enter the surgery and pull down their trousers or take off their tops to reveal their inverted penis/ stomachs covered in craters. They don't even pix-elate this stuff! Cue whimpering  and being sick.

It's fascinating though. Not just because I get to see something that TV just shouldn't allow, but also because I just cannot fathom why anyone would choose to go on there.  Most clips of the patients sitting nervously in the limbo room on the green sofa, start with them going into detail about their illness , which is far too embarrassing for them to go to their doctor with. That's all fine and dandy, but their logic fails me when I wonder why they're happy to get their bits out on national television, but not in the privacy of a doctors surgery...  It's mind boggling, especially when people come in and say they can't find a 'beau', because they're too embarrassed. I'm sorry guys and gals, but showering the general public with your embarrassing problems won't spruce your love lives up.

Now, I'm aware that there are some genuinely desperate people who go onto the show because they've tried everything and are at their wits end. These are the people I feel genuinely sorry; not only for their suffering with such a difficult condition, but also because most of us watch them, wrinkling our noses and pretending to vomit behind the sofa. Plus, the form you have to fill in to even be within a chance to get on the show is bloody long, you have to send in a head shot of yourself and outline every detail of the problem you have. It would be less time consuming to pop into your GP. And even after all that, there is no guarantee that you'll get treatment. So you may not even get the lipo and tummy tuck you were planning to look fabulous for Tenerife.

Despite hastily putting down my knife and fork when the show comes on, I suppose that I understand the message that it's trying to spell out to the British public.  It's common knowledge that we Brits don't really like to make a big fuss. We're far too polite, what with all our scone eating and crumpet buttering taking up our time to be loud, brash and mean.

Basically, I think that the point of the show is to make it clear to us lot that we need to get ourselves sorted when we notice a problem, and not five years down the line when our toenails start to go yellow and drop off.  We just don't really know enough about looking after ourselves these days, because we either don't want to or there isn't enough awareness raised to urge people to get themselves checked out. According to my latest doctor, (they keep leaving to serve the primary care system of Merthyr - The Family Planning Clinic), I was depressed for about four or five years before I got diagnosed, and that was simply because I just didn't know what I was feeling wasn't right. Additionally, I kept telling myself the problem would go away and there was nothing to worry about. Looking at where I am now, I realise that the poor way in which I handled that situation was possibly one of the biggest mistakes I've made to date.... I did say to date. There are defiantly more to come...

The point is we should not and cannot leave our embarrassing body problems to go away by themselves, and we cannot keep putting off a visit to the doctors. It's detrimental to our health and frankly, especially when we don't know what the problem is exactly, we have no idea what the long term effects are of our choices when it comes to our health. We need to wake up, smell the coffee I just made myself and get ourselves sorted before we have to resort to going under the knife or sharing our humiliating secrets with the British public.

Anyways, if there is any intelligence rattling around in my brain, I know this; you will never find me on Embarrassing Bodies. Ever. No sirrree Bob, nothing embarrassing or humiliating here to declare. Nada. Zilch. Not a single thing.

Honest!

Well, the point is I wouldn't tell you anyways, even if I did. 

I now pronounce you man and man

If you've watched the news at all in the last few months, (which most of you would have, as poor, unemployed students with nothing better to do), you'll have noticed that there's a big palaver surrounding Scotland at the moment. While I personally feel that they are pilling their issues onto the British government because they're starting to feel a little lonely up there in the north , they have raised one issue which I feel has been avoided more successfully than council tax.

Over recent months, you'll notice that people here, there and everywhere are coming out of the metaphorical closet as being in favour of gay marriage. From Mr David Cameron to Lady Gaga, support for gay marriage is increasingly becoming the progressive modern day cause. While opinion on the subject still remains divided, the Scots have decided to put their feet down and launch a government consultation on gay marriage, which has ultimately, split the coalition. David Cameron tightened his trousers in his happy relationship with Nick Clegg and allowed a free vote on the issue, much to the dismay of the Scottish Church.  

So after a lot of voting and whatnot, Scotland is set to become the first part of the United Kingdom to legalize the same sex marriage through a bill that is soon to be introduced to parliament. YAY! This means that; 

One: Scotland will be breaking out the rainbow flags by 2015 

And two: I now like Scotland a lot more.

A majority of Members of the Scottish parliament have already openly stated that they'll back the bill, so it'll most definitely pass. I'm pretty pleased and happy that the Scottish government have had the ingenious insight to do this. I live in Wales, so I guess my wait goes on. Not that I have a woman lined up to marry just yet.

Anyhow, the reality of this is that humanist celebrants and religious officiates who want to officiate same sex weddings could be marrying gay and lesbian couples by 2015. Although the Scottish Government is thoughtfully intending to include an 'opt out' clause for religions who aren't too fussed on perform these types of marriages, on the part of most people, there is now a very Paul McCartney  'live and let live' attitude in the air.

Interestingly, although unsurprisingly, the legislation has been met with opposition from not only the Catholic Church and the Church of Scotland, but even two - thirds of the Scottish population. On that issue, I have to shower the Scottish with my respect for standing up what they believe in, contrary to whether it's popular or not. American legislators, take note.

The Free Church of Scotland, released a statement on the subject which, when I read, made me a little bit sad. They said that, and I quote, "This is a truly sad day for Scotland, and we urge the Scottish government to reconsider their plans." No offence, but, if you think gay marriage is going to end the world then, err, consult the chart below. At the end of the day, gay marriage will effect homosexuals relationships - not yours.

Now, I have Christian friends. Or rather, I have friends who identify as Christians because being anything else means going without Christmas presents. In light of this, I've decided to respond to an aspect of gay marriage that my friends have brought up on a few occasions.

Let's put it into uncomplicated terms. Why would I, Gemma, an individual who identifies as a Christian, be openly in favour of same sex marriage in the knowledge that  these types of relationships 'displease' God? Why would I identify as both a Christian and a bisexual? Why am I being what The Westboro Baptist Church in America call a 'fag enabler?' BECAUSE I WANT TO.

Personally, I find the whole thing fascinating. There are hundreds upon hundreds of sins listed in the Bible and yet, we have decided to single out homosexuality as the sin that God is most displeased by. As Jesus said in the Bible about homosexuality - "          " . Exactly. NOTHING. We go to the effort and extent to fight against homosexual relationships, to the ridiculous point that we base presidential campaign issues on the subject and feel obliged to legislate same sex marriage. Frankly, I think the fact that the Christian community has alienated us Christians from the LGBT+ community was a big mistake. We could easily have embraced this community and yet, we chose to condemn them at every turn.  

I recently wrote a blog about male feminism which, while possibly causing some controversy, pointed out the fundamental issues of equality. Some argue that the current ban on gay marriage is a question of equality, similar to women having the right to vote or rights for ethnic minorities.  Some have expressed the view that gay marriage would devalue the sanctity of marriage in itself, which, frankly, is just rubbish in my opinion. How on earth could the marriage of two people who love and care for each other deeply be wrong, despite their gender?  I'll admit that gay and lesbian couples are entitled to Civil Partnerships, which are basically a watered down version of marriage, but I don't believe that they consider the beliefs of the couple.

Additionally, married couples are protected by the law - financially, medically etc. Say two people are in a same sex relationship and one was involved in an accident. Their other half would not technically be able to be with them throughout the emergency. Furthermore, most companies don't provide the same policy for same sex couples regarding insurance. Because a Civil Union is 'not marriage', it is therefore not a 'lawful union.' That's the kind of crap that makes me wonder why on earth I happily remain a resident in the UK and keep my mouth shut on this issue.

The fact is that even if the good old Scots hadn't made an example of the rest of the UK by embracing same sex marriage, homosexuality still exists. Whether you are hiding in a cave, surrounded by sketches of pre - historic homosexual relationships, or fifty billion feet in the air, with a gay couple sitting in front, happily jetting off to Barbados for their honeymoon, you can't escape it. So, you might as well deal with it and accept other people's happiness. Just because gay people are so jolly all of the time, doesn't mean that you can rain on their rainbow parade. They just want to be as miserable as you heterosexuals too. 

The F word

Today, I am approaching  a subject that is bound to seriously damage the number of people who read my blog. Or rather, the number of friends that I have who are willing/forced to read my blog after my constant coercing.  I should be scared of potentially becoming 'that bitch on the internet', but, due to a healthy supply of fizzy drinks, chocolate bars, sweets and fat based products, I'm quite calm about the whole thing.

If you've been reading my blogs of late, then you'll know that two out of the five that have been posted are full of ranting about men's perception of women and, the pressures that women face in the modern day world. While I still maintain that fact, I just want to point out some home truths about modern feminism that will probably make Emmeline Pankhurst roll in her grave.

Let's get one thing straight before we go steam rolling into this sensitive issue; I am a feminist. I completely support women's rights; I spent God knows how many years in school learning about the Suffragettes movement, and many more continuing to learn about it in my free time. I spent my childhood being told by my grandparents to embrace my rights as a woman, that had been fought for nearing a century ago. I have the utmost respect for the movement and, it makes me proud that we still continue to work tirelessly for women's rights. But, I feel that the whole campaign is becoming somewhat.. close minded towards male feminists.

Here's my argument in a nutshell: men may make the odd joke about women staying in the kitchen and whatnot, but so do I. I refuse to have my rights to make jokes about my amazing abilities to make sandwiches  and doing golden medal worthy ironing away from me. The fact is, women are mean about men too. In fact, should you tune into ITV at half twelve on weekdays, (if, like me, you have nothing better to do), and that much will be proven. Loose Women is dedicated to talking about how stupid men are, and yet, they don't get taken off the air. The show represents a stereotype of modern feminism that, well, is crap really. There's a difference between women saying; "I am a woman, hear me shop, (sorry - can't help it) ROAR," and "I am a woman, listen to me giggling at my own jokes about how my partner is unable to perform the mundane domestic duties that I can."

How is that the liberation that the feminist movement has fought for? Can someone please point out to me how inviting bitter old women to gather around a table with cups of tea and bourbon biscuits to insult the male population is modern feminism? Frankly, I don't really want to be represented by this juvenile level rubbish.  

Whereas sexism against men isn't publicised as often as that against women, it does exist. Whether we ignore it or not, sexism against men is often a result of the same outdated gender rules that keep the female population in their place. Divorce courts often rule that the mother should have custody of their children, which we accept willingly. However, does no one want to point out that the British courts still seem to be operating under the attitude that it is a mother's job to have full custody of her children? And why do they often assume that father's cannot do the job that mother's can? My parents are divorced - and they are both wonderful people who have brought me up to be the fantastic and goddess like woman that I am. The fact that they shared custody of me wasn't a hindrance to my childhood. Fact is, men are just as capable as women.

Obnoxious male stereotypes stem from the same place as those that affect women: THE MEDIA. The idea that is drummed into women's heads by lad culture magazines, is that men are half brained, potential rapists who think of nothing but sex all the time and cannot have a conversation with a woman while looking them directly in the face. Plus, lad culture stresses that the only way men can enjoy themselves is by going out, getting absolutely car parked and having a good ol' fashioned manly fight. Maybe there are men like this out there, but the easy acceptance of the way that 'blokes' should be makes it near enough to impossible for them to be otherwise. Men drink alcohol until they throw up or piss in the streets and stare at tits 24/7 because they're 'real' men.

The list of things men cannot do is endless. They cannot enjoy dancing, care about their appearance too much or talk about their feelings. They aren't allowed to have feelings beyond being horny, angry or pissed. They can have relationships with other men, but they can't discuss emotions with them.  The fact is that sexism happens to men too. And sadly, men have no place in modern feminism to do anything about it. Male feminists do exist but, most of them feel like they can't have an opinion about feminism because they are men.

Like all my other blog posts, I'm getting too preachy. The point is feminism can be liberating for men, but its capability of being used as a tool for self development  is very influential. Gender aside, when we look at how society has effectively shaped your way of thinking, behavior, expectations of yourself and those around you and, the expectations of gender conformity, it can be such a release to break off from the conventionality that society pressures us with.

So, boys, if you need one reason to become a male feminist, here goes nothing: screw society's expectations of how you should be and screw lad cultures ideas of how you should perceive women. Fact is, we're more equal these days that we ever have been. Be whoever, do whatever and do it because you want to. Meanwhile, I'll put the kettle on and whip up a batch of cookies.

I need more money and less shit from the government

Like most of the British population between 18 and 25, I should currently be searching for a job. While I like the idea of ensuring that I have the luxuries that only hot water and electricity can supply for my second year of university, this whole finding a job process is bloody difficult. Seeing as I have never had a job, the likelihood of me finding one is.. zilch. So instead of enduring another few painful hours of rejection, I thought I'd write a blog about it instead.

One of the 137,000 searching for a job in the UK

It's rather depressing to be perfectly honest. I am now at the desperate stage where I enter competitions to get some cash. I can't apply to jobs anymore because I can't find my National Insurance number - and even if I did, it would be covered in too thick a layer of dust to decipher.

It's common knowledge that the United Kingdom is in a triple dip recession at the moment, and it's no secret that South Wales is one of the hardest hit places. Being what the English, Scottish, Irish and North Walians refer to as 'a valleys girl,' I know the setbacks of Margaret Thatcher only too well. While most see my living in the hills as a negative thing, I can list some positives. In the recent Olympics, we contributed to team GB winning gold, silver, bronze... and tin and copper and lead. There are many wonderful things about living in the valleys, each as joyous as the next, but, again, that's for another blog.

Ever since the reign of the delightful Mrs. Thatcher, the economic viability of the valleys has been on the decline faster than the outgoings of my bank account. The current government has made some effort to persuade businesses to migrate to South Wales. Those with some sort of I.Q are wise to stay away from our streets with all those unemployed hooligans. Instead, they venture to the big city of London and get ransacked in riots. They were a big deal last August apparently, though I missed it while I blissfully spent my EMA in Disneyland.  The point is, I MISS HAVING MONEY. But I don't go out into the rough and tumble streets of Merthyr Tydfil and rummage through the leftover merchandise that the English send our way, to make up for our lack of sustainable business.

Desperate times. Desperate measures.

For the unwitting humans who reside in the valleys these days, the recession means several things: 
One - Someone, somehow, finds a job that they can maintain that pays enough to allow comfortable living. In the valleys. 

Two - You get out as quickly as you can and move to London to loot a hardware store. 

Three - You realise the mistake your ancestors made, and move away to realise your potential, (which you won't due to the recession.)

Four - You make the same mistake as your parents. 

Or five - You stay exactly where you are, but you don't get as lucky as your mate, Stan the street sweeper, and you live a life on benefits, being dubbed as a sponge and as trash.

While the Tories bang on about the benefits system not being a net, I am one of these people who is a firm believer that it all depends on circumstances. I know lots of people who have genuine need of the benefit system. Heck, if I were not a university student at the moment, I would be on benefits. We can get angry about it, we can protest, but it will not change the mindset of those who readily use the benefit system as a survival tool. It's understandable though; most people are genuinely better off on benefits, than being paid minimum wage to clean up the sick in the McDonalds queue. And sadly, the majority of the few jobs on offer in the valleys fit that exact criteria.

Surely, then, you understand my frustration, when I am constantly applying to jobs I don't even want to do and keep getting rejected while my families household income is depleted by the percentage of the population who simply don't want to work.  Additionally, employers base their perception of your worth as an employee on previous work experience, which, most people don't have because of the lack of jobs. And the lack of job stems from the poor economy, which stems from people not working , stemming from lack of jobs. We're in a vicious cycle. How do these big bad bosses expect me to get my first job if I have no work experience? I wish it was as easy as Norman Tebbit made it sound. .Norman Tebbit 

Unfortunately, I don't have a bike and, I have a heart that is slowly calcifying  and insufficient to do any sort of exercise

'He's on work experience' 

You need to have work experience, amazing grades, your own transport, (which most of us cannot afford), and a degree before you can even be considered to work in a factory slicing beef in Britain. Public transport is an absolute nightmare - getting to Cardiff from Merthyr takes nearly an hour on the train, which will cost you near enough to £8 if you are foolish enough want to return. Naturally, this makes life harder for the average working person or commuter.

Additionally, shops are closing down here, there and everywhere because they just cannot support themselves anymore. Companies are making changes to their full time contracts left, right and centre. People who are in jobs are being made redundant, sometimes without warning, and are left in the lurch by companies who are trying to keep up with the collapsing economy. While the recent Olympics may have added a little extra money into the governments back pockets, I doubt the taxpayer will see as much of it as David Cameron's wife will.

To our government, here's a word to the wise: I may be at university now, but, hopefully I'm going to do well and finish there within the next two years. I'm not excited about going into the world like most people my age should be - I'm trying to stay in education as long as possible to be within a chance of even finding a job as a grocer. I know it isn't the easiest of jobs, running a country and all, but something needs to be done about the rate of unemployment in the UK. I don't have an answer, but if I find one, I'll get back to you. Maybe then I'll finally get a job. As the next Prime Minister. Messing up Great Britain, one piece at a time, in the way only I can. 

Just saying no... to plastic surgery

For you lucky few who have the privilege to know me personally, you'll all be able to agree that I am rather an opinionated person. (If you don't realise this by now, please make effort to get to know me better. Bring me some cookies. Buy me a sambuca and we'll be best friends.) Aside from that, I'm also a rather opinionated person with nothing to do for at least the next month other than read newspaper articles online. And today, I came across a rather interesting one.

Now, I realise that I have already ranted about the government pressuring us lovely British people that we need to generally be better at everything. But this article really bothered me. To all you 'manly men' out there reading this delightful blog,  I'm going to introduce you to a topic that circles women like a shopaholic let loose at a shoe sale. Something which you think you understand, but let's face it, as men, you don't understand much other than the offside rule and eating. So, here we are lads, the one thing you can't fathom about women - Breasts.

Yes boys, BREASTS. Not boobs. Not tits. Not nunga nungas, (though if you do have the chance to watch Angus, thongs and perfect snogging, I thoroughly recommend it.) Looking at breasts in lads magazines isn't going to broaden your knowledge of the subject, though it may distract you from zombie games for five seconds. Pretending to be fascinated by the quality of writing on page three of the Sun won't do it either - and yes we've all been there. Including me.

Different shapes and sizes don't make us different 

Boys, I know it's tempting but let's try not to objectify women, eh?  We have enough trouble as it is, what with all our 'sandwich making', 'ironing', 'cleaning' and shoe shopping to do. I don't think we need  a bunch of lads talking to our chests and not our faces on top of our problems. I'm not saying women are oppressed these days, but I'm not saying that we aren't either. But, that's a topic for another blog.

Now, as I've already said, I came across a rather interesting article today, courtesy of the BBC themselves. The link is just here >> BBCnews - Health. But, as we are the British population and we are slowly becoming too lethargic to even click a button, here's an overview.

So round 7,000 women in England along are being checked for have faulty breast implants. And around 47,000 women who live in the United Kingdom go under the knife privately, rather than with the NHS. I remember once reading that over 300,000 a women a year in the US alone undergo breast augmentation. That's a lot.

Apparently, there has been a major cause for concern regarding breast enhancement as it has recently been discovered that the cosmetic service industry may have been using substandard materials. The materials aren't toxic but, there are safety concerns. The French started the whole thing off, interfering in the way only the French can. Though, to give them credit, they were fully justified to do so in this situation. These PIP implants were statistically found to have double the risk of rupturing.

It isn't even the risk of having toxic tits that deters me from having implants. If anything, I'd have a breast reduction from a D cup to a C cup but, sadly, I am a poor student without a job and with enough common sense not to go through with it. Ladies, we all want to change something about ourselves, but selling off the family pet and taking out a loan with 1746% APR is a bit extreme. Let's all just calm down. Put the kettle on. Have an Irish coffee. And in the words of Uncle Bryn from Gavin and Stacey; "WILL YOU JUST LOOK AT YOURSELVES??"

You are BEAUTIFUL the way you are. You are born with everything you have and frankly, you should be grateful. Like I've said in a previous blog, and a billion times about the world's population, it's the person inside and not the package that counts.

Admittedly, we Britons enjoy pointing out our flaws to not only ourselves, but each other. The amount of times I've asked my boyfriend if my bum looks big in something is ridiculous. Plus, even when I get the answer I want, (ALWAYS a resounding NO, for future reference boys), I'm still not satisfied. We women never are. But that doesn't mean we should go under the knife unnecessarily  to embrace ourselves.

Plus, let's be honest here, nobody wants to end up looking like Katie Price. It isn't natural beauty and it isn't a true depiction of the typical British woman. Breast implants, lipo suction, bum enhancement and face lifts - all of them just make you look like a Barbie doll. I'd rather look like Ursula from the little mermaid and be happy than fear for my face if I get too near an open flame.

Valeria Lukyanova - The 21 year old Ukrainian seeking to be the real life Barbie doll 

Not to mention all the dangers that come with surgery itself. Women often have had to have additional surgery to fix their haphazard breasts, have complained of joint problems and suffered symptoms similar to 'Rheumatoid Arthritis ', (type it into Google and prepare to be put off surgery.) Some women have even had to take steroids to fix the millions of repercussions of cosmetic surgery, which, have negative effects in themselves.

Girls, I'm not saying the fires of hell will burn down on you should you even consider cosmetic surgery. And I'm not saying that some very obnoxious people may even encourage you to do it. I just want to make it clear that this is 2012. Our rights to be strong and independent women weren't handed on a silver platter. The sandwiches and crumpets might've been, but our rights to think for ourselves weren't. Try to embrace your bodies. Don't allow the media to pressure you into becoming something you weren't built to be.

Anyway, that's enough of that from me. If my negative ranting isn't enough to put you off enhancing yourself , feel free to watch Embarrassing Bodies on Channel 4. You will never eat at ten o clock in the evening again.

With my sincerest thanks to my boyfriend, who lies to me every day about my 'beach ball body'. If you enjoy my ranting, I'm sure you'll enjoy his a lot more! 

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