I am a woman and...

And for my 60th post - the most controversial yet.

(Excuse the tiredness exposed here, I've been bulking)

#IAMAWOMANAND I eat protein bars, I go into the weights gym, yes I do lift (bro), I will text you first, I want a six pack too, I am incredible at DIY (thanks MUM), I watch football and yes I do understand the offside rule, I love rugby, I can rap the words to "Make Me Proud" by Drake, I will wear what I want, and no, I don't want children.

As per, ELLE magazine comes up with an incredible collection of articles on what it means to be a feminist. They launched a campaign where women send in photos of what it means to them to be a woman. 

I really don't know if I'm a feminist, I did think it was for man-haters and was slightly let down when I found out it actually wasn't - I'd be so good at that. I'm not sure I know what it really is, let alone have time to act upon it. 

My favourite part of the article was from Jinan Younis (the founder of FemSoc - I should start this at Uni). She said that feminism is not accepting the stereotypes or the groups that we are put in, not just by men. For example we should be allowed to walk down the street without being wolf-whilsted at, or being degraded in some way. We're not an "apple" or a "pear" - although some people do have wider hips then others, and "pear" shaped is a nicer way then saying "look at that derrière!" HOWEVER, that's not the point, were not the "career woman" or "the one who doesn't want to get married" or the "slag". We're women and as Miley Cyrus says "only God can judge you" - preach it Miley. 

I've recently noticed since being at Uni that there are "lad" things to do and there are things the girls don't do. I have for the first time began using the weights gym at Uni - a very normal occurrence at home, however the boys in this gym are completely beside themselves when a girl walks in, they do not know what to do. They get awkward, they can't ask you to move so they can get some dumbbells, they breathe a sigh of relief when you leave and they certainly look at you like you're a martian. Personally I just think they wish they could put the size weights through their quads like I can. 

I was in the gym yesterday for example and there was a large group of six girls in the weights gym I was thinking "excellent! - the girls taking over the weights", only to walk in to find them gossiping about the boys and then proceeding to look at me like I'd joined the Bonkers Raving Looney party when I begin my circuit. They then left after not even picking up one weight. I was disappointed. However, I'm taking one for the team and going to continue using the weights gym. I get the weirdest looks when I say I use the weights room. Looks of surprise, sheer terror and questions such as "you lift bro?" - just to clarify, I have weakling arms, stronger then the average Eve, but thats why I'm a runner - hence the quads. So, bro, nah, I don't lift, much anyway... 

Another thing since I have been at Uni is the whole idea that it is not acceptable for girls to get with boys. Now, last time I checked we're all adults and no one can judge us so what we do in our own time is our own choices. Plus when a boy gets with lots of girls thats just normsville but a girl is instantly called a "slag" - and it is the girls that call the girls "slags" - I very very rarely hear a boy say it. So we're basically shooting ourselves in the foot with that one. 

Back to Feminism - can boys be a feminist? I guess so. Its about equality and respect. We have come along way (we no longer have to starve ourselves, or throw ourselves in front of a horse or burn our Victoria Secrets' to be heard) but there is still a ridiculously long way to go, apparently we're looking at 2057 before men and women in the same jobs are paid the exact same. Men are still paid nearly 15% more than women in some jobs, which is slightly sickening. I'd also be appalled if I was asked if I had any "baby plans" over the next five years, as a person who doesn't want children I'd say "no, but I'll happy take "maternity leave" to go on a cruise"

Food for thought.

I hope I've stirred some thought, or just made you scratch your head in utter confusion. But if any of that made even a teeny bit of sense, my work here is done. 

Here is the ELLE article containing pictures of ELLE employee's with their "I am a woman and..." posters. 

Happy Feminism!

RHS x

Confessions of an all girls' private school pt.II

Yes, that's right. My most popular post "Confessions of an all girls' private school" (with 426 views!) has a part two. 

I have just taken a break from my packing for my second year at University and decided to watch 'Harrow: A very British school' - some people I'm at Uni with went there, so I was very intrigued. Many things I saw reminded me of Ockbrook, minus the 90% less school fees, the very small in comparison to Harrow's 200 acre grounds, no boys (until now) and I'm pretty sure I wasn't called a 'Shell' in year 7 - 'A shell waiting to be filled with knowledge' - I came up with that myself. 

Anyway, there were some things that were similar, but lets be honest, every private school is different and Ockbrook was, lets say a private school that tried so desperately hard to be an "all girls private and very posh" posh school. But unfortunately the odd girl just kept letting it down (or the whole year, or the whole school), so rebellious, yet so amazing. 

You had to stand up when the headmistress walked into assembly, then sit down after she sat down, then stand up 4 seconds later to sing "be still", which you tried to remember the words to, as everyone looked two rows ahead or four people to the side to the hymn books of the teachers' pets who always remembered their hymn book, whether they were falling apart or not, everyone HAD to have one other wise you would receive the cane, or just a sly glare from your head of year. 

Showers were mandatory after P.E. (thats physical education darling), sorry, I meant it was mandatory for the teachers to tell us to have a shower then us to wet out feet and walk round the changing room looking like we'd all had a shower - ahh how we fooled our P.E. teachers... 

P.E. now that was a fine lesson. I will always remember my first summer P.E. session of Year 7 (as a shell), we were placed on the slightly undulating 300m grass track (which was potentially more about 278m - but who's counting?) and told to run 800m - now as we all know (yawn) I did x-country in year 5 and 6 (which I hated), but that grass track put a rocket up my year 7 skort and gave me the second fastest time in the year! (the first knows who she is! - and I was 30 seconds slower then her - the difference between gold and 57th place in the Olympics, but who's counting?). Now as every school knows there are your sporty kids aaaand your not so sporty kids (the sporfy kids as I like to call them, the kind that even by the time year 11 swimming came along still hadn't heard of a tampon, you know what I'm talking about) so the Sporfy kids were shouted at - they pretended to have an asthma attack whilst the teachers ran along side them (and I was on my second 800m) - I'm such a show off. 

Ok, something I was terrible at but every other girl seemed incredible at - Hockey. My worst nightmare, coming back from Summer holidays and it was Hockey season, I wouldn't have made the school C team - there weren't enough girls to make a C team - exactly my point. I was petrified my insured fingers would get smacked and I'd never be able to play the piano again - tragic and really upsetting. We had to have gum guards, shin pads, football boots, embroidered track pants, track top, skort, P.E. shirt and kit bag, and goggles and shoes and socks and we practically had to embroider ourselves - the pain. High jump, I was SHOCKING at that, the annual Pentathlon seemed a good idea at the time - Ockbrook always won the girls' section but Friesland always won the boys' section - but we'll obviously let them off for that because who was judging their sport anyway? - slight tangent Ruth - I have scars on my poor shins from that stupid bar, could I fosbury flop over that thing at 10cm? NO! I was awful. 

Moving away from P.E. - we had a pet, a peahen to be exact, where it came from we don't know. But then it died, it was really sad, no really it was really sad. Our first assembly back after summer and to be  broken with that news was horrifying - especially when the head teacher actually told us where she and the head of science found it dead - poor year 7's. But, nevertheless we got about 5 in its place - boy peahens and girl peahens... something like that. And it was like the witch of the senior staff department (fill in with name of most disliked teacher)  had re-incarnated the peahen and it had gone badly wrong... 

Windows were propped open with 5 copies of "Of Mice of Men" - many broke from the weight - we like to think that was why Lenny crushed things - lovely. People were hit on the head with the book after it would "accidentally" fall from the window and fall 3 stories - it was never me. I swear on my 90 denier tights. We had 3 maths rooms - the sliding door one was obvs the best, then one became the IT room (suite!) which no one was allowed to use because the computers were brand new - sorry whats the point then? - this was the new headmistress by this point, she changed our school holidays to match with Loughborough's private schools because thats where her children went... 

Creative arts... creative arts... what to say about creative arts. This was the evening every year I dreaded. The actual evening itself included every year in the sports hall (minus the sixth formers, they got the dance studio) with group dances to Soulja Boy and lots of Haribo and lemonade - so we were all obviously so drunk by the time we were called to perform it was hilarious. Ok that was one time. So creative arts was the night where every year and the dance groups from every year performed dance and drama - my two most hated subjects ever. I attempted to do the year 10 Spanish dance but I was basically told in a very nice, roundabout way, I was more suited to running and athletics - basically I was too muscly and fast for the dance - whatever! - I'll go and twist my ankle on the pot-holed track! Ok so there was a time when in art - we as hormonal year 9 students had to dance under a dragon - yes a real one - well made of papier-mâche and a mad concoction of paint - it was a chinese theme - der - and we all stood underneath this "work of art" and danced - whilst we ripped off the newspaper inside and left it on the stage, teehee. Other creative arts years included a dance to the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory theme tune, a dance with a pearly squash ball and finalés that involved crying P.E. teachers, flowers and "don't stop believing" - dear, oh dear. 

The black door and the white door - The black door is for students and the white door is for parents (and students) - I once took my mum through the black door and was almost expelled on the spot when our Deputy Head saw. No"Hello Mrs Smith" it was more like "Ruth Hannah Smith what are you doing bringing a parent through the black door!?" - erm, soz miss. 

OH THE HORROR - "MISS" wow, when pupils came from schools that weren't, well lets just say, Ockbrook, - the words "MISS" and "SIR"came out, well, that, 4 years before, would have been worthy of 5 strikes with the cane, but luckily only 1 nowadays. It was so shocking it was worse than the first surprise head lice check. 3 years later at a different sixth form there I am calling my teachers "miss" and "sir" ah Ruth, so common, poor thing - I had so much potential. At Ockbrook you'd get ignored by the teacher until some Ockbrook-ian would correct the non Ockbrook-ian. 

I remember when I went to pick up my GCSE certificates - through the white door I went, greeted very nicely by the P.A. to the head and not very nicely by the Deputy Head who glanced at me whilst I checked all my certificates were there and asked that as I was no longer a pupil that I don't enter the school to say hello to anyone and that I quickly leave - like I was some embarrassment - well I never. How rude. 

So yes I, in the words of our sister, Dory, "ES-CAP-ADE" to a.n.other sixth form and left behind a very odd but memorable place that was potentially the most trying of poshest places ever. 

I will never forget the day the OED fell from my head during 'graceful walking' lessons. 

Stay clever!

RHS x 

9 days in 1 post

We three Kings of Orient are... bearing tans we traverse afar...

Its been 9 days, 50 shades of pink, brown and black, 2 aeroplane rides, over 20 tube rides, too many cocktails, overdosing on sun and my first girls holiday.

Spain; Mijas to be precise, Mijas was incredible - so quaint and pretty, but Marbella (30 minutes away) wasn't what we expected!! Its great if you like paying €8 a cocktail, being chatted up by 12 year olds and where the busiest club is a gay bar. Oooh, pizza slice is only €2.50 though! - fresh too. mm.

I've been begged to write this blog post - it won't be easy fitting 178 hours into one post... but here goes!!

So, Spain it was, we were very lucky to be able to stay in our friends' apartment high up in the beautiful hills of La Cala de Mijas.

The wildlife wasn't so lovely - were talking frogs in the pool, loads of screams over killer, sorry "killer" wasps, a toad and when I say toad, I mean, like, a toad. And a cricket, that clearly loved us SO much it didn't want us to leave. It was huge, I - obviously being the bravest... - was told to sort out this cricket with its massive jumping legs blocking our only exit route - I was like ha no thanks so down two floors it was - in the lift of course as a dead frog was blocking stairs - to the car park, sorry the opening set in Saw I, II, III, IV, V, VI and VII. Don't ask how we managed to get out - I still can't remember.

nice tan!

We enjoyed Mojitos, mojito sorbet, Simon - heheheheee - ahh, sangria, pervy policemen, nice english ice cream shop owners, too much WIFI, red hot sand, blue sea, no lifeguards and enough rosé to take far too many photos. Don't go on my facebook.

As I basked in olive oil, some call it Piz Buin? fellow girls were burning in scorching heat - when I say burning I mean tan lines that look like a hand print, very odd. Now with my heritage - don't ask - I finished the holiday on SPF 6 Tanning Oil but still had SPF 15 on my face - who wants UV sun spots, wrinkles and sun damage? - not me! but Miss Ireland (pseudonym - not even from Ireland but would fit in nicely) thought it would be so wise to stick to the SPF 30, bless, feel for you babes! - it will brown x

Marbella, its not great - lets be really honest, its overpriced, shops aren't great "Où est le H et M?" (I know thats French, do I look like I even know a word in Spanish?!), but there was a Zara - 1 point - everyone goes because of that awful orange programme - The Only Way Is an Excuse to go to Marbs - has anyone else noticed they are always on a boat in that show - thats because Marbella isn't all "that" - "that" being nothing to begin with. Simmer the hype - old school.

We ate carbs in Marbs - is that allowed? We ate carbs before Marbs... because were sensible girls who know that not eating carbs means that the body will begin to store everything you eat and burn it off as sugar, meaning you will just get fatter - something like that anyway - Dr Delbridge?

Ok, so we went late in the "pardy season" but we expected a buz - yes? - no. Dead, ok, not dead, there weren't lots of flies everywhere but no where got busy till 12:30am! and we got to Marbella (pronounced MarbeLLa apps - the Spanish are SO common) at 9:30pm - haha, amateurs - but its ok, because there was Wifi...

I finished reading Oscar Wilde and started reading Charlotte Brontë, got into Kendrick Lamar - as in, started to like his music, obvs - "diiiiiive in", bought cheap, cheap vodka, made a "sex on the beach" cocktail out of vodka, apricot liquor, redcurrent juice and orange juice - 50% right, drank WKD - mate this stuff is better than Herbal Essences, cooked risotto with no stock - call me Jesus, had to put up with the next door neighbours smoking cannabis at ridiculous times and they had a young girl! - shocking, but the worst, the icing on the cake, the worst way to end the week (9 day week) was when it was announced: "SHALL WE WATCH HIGH SCHOOL MUSICL 3?!" - to which I laughed so much I fell off the balcony, not really but I wish I did, or I wish that Cady pushed my in front of a bus because that film is so CRINGEY, in fact, there is no word in the OED to describe it. I mean, really? - of course you're that obsessed with a girl, you will "drive" 1063 miles (or whatever was in that horrific song) to pick her up when she's told you she's not interested - move on boi, and of course you can just enter your school at midnight and sing "scream" (he sang "scream" - he didn't scream, oh wait, he did) and bump into your drama teacher, yeah whatever - and of course you're 18 and say goodbye to your girlfriend with a hug and of course - I can't even remember, I don't want to. All I know is that my cat could have written a better script and better songs and I don't even have a cat - basically thin air could have written it better. Awful. But - the good news, drum roll - the standard "how much weight have I put on whilst on holiday" - now, no joke it was about 9lbs when I got back from France - cheese and wine is just FAR too incredible - so it was the moment of truth this morning - 1lb everyone, 1lb! did everyone see that - So impressed with myself so I treated my mother to afternoon tea - ideal daughter over here. 

Ahh, so to finish with the best sentence of the week - "J'ai perdu mon sac a la gare" - say with a Chinese accent on "gare" - bien - Oui, plus français 

A few final tips from Ruth: 1. if you fly with Easy Jet, take ear plugs, not just because of the screaming babies and shushing mums and the noisy hostesses - or hosts (odd), equality and all that but because of the constant drone on the tannoy - "give to charity!", "blow into the tube to inflate!", "buy e-cigaretts", "Easy Jet BISTRO!", "*spanish words*" - how about YOU JUST DRIVE (or fly, what is the word to operate a plane?) AND I JUST TRY AND SLEEP?! 2. I have a great friend who can get a great price on hair braids. 3. Don't leave your mobile phone in your pocket when walking through a security gate, or leave a bottle of water in your bag! (ahh, fun and games eh). 4. Don't have a dog allergy if you arrive into Gatwick, or don't carry drugs in a pregnancy bump (was the woman for real?!) because those black four legged sniffing canines will smell every part of you and nuzzle their nose everywhere and not have to ask first!. 4. Spanish chicken isn't great and DO NOT drink the water - sad moment with carrot juice and tap water comes to mind. aw. 

Ahh, 

I don't know any Spanish so I'll finish in Afrikaans - my native language 

lief vir julle almal

and for the common English - "I am your father" 

Lol jk. Love you all! 

RHS x 

Confessions of an all girls' private school

We would frolic naked in the school grounds. 

The End. 

That was a joke, 

We only did that on special occasions, like Christingle. 

Its not what everyone expects

I went to an all girls' private school from 11 to 16 and I loved it, until I was in year 9. 

The bitchyness, the lack of boys (which meant everyone was after everyone else's boy - weren't they? - no.), there were snipes of "lock up your boyfriends" - yep. 

There were 36 of us in 1 year. 18 in one form. You can imagine what it was like when there were then 3 maths sets. 

There were lesbians, I will admit, but only a sprinkling, whether the school turned them that way, I'm not so sure!

The grounds says it all.

The location was the settlement, Ockbrook, 

the younger years were housed in the Mount, 

the middle years in the Grange and the upper school in the Main school, 

the hall was the Birtill hall, 

there was the Mullinuex centre and the Sports complex, oh and a swimming pool - Don't get excited, you were swimming in rat wee and spiders. 

People got D's at GCSE 

Yes really, there were those that didn't get a choice and had to take Foundation maths, and they got a D (I believe one question was how many sides does a triangle have - at a private school ha.)

We were the worst year for GCSE grades - sorry Mrs Steele (is she still there?...) 

The day our Head Mistress said you can't be pretty and clever

University challenge was in full swing and there was an... interesting... looking girl on there, she potentially wouldn't have won any beauty contests. 

Anyway, we were that age where we were posing in the toilets in the tiny mirrors with our Sony Ericson phones and judging each others choice of sunglasses. 

Mrs Steele wasn't impressed, she spent a whole 30 minutes during assembly (after we'd sung All Things Bright and Beautiful - think about it) telling us if we spent to much time on our looks we wouldn't succeed. 

THAT right there, was the motivation we needed. 

I got an A in maths *cough cough* 

3 male teachers and several hundred girls 

Yeah, what you're thinking is true, 

With one anyway. A science teacher, who was suspected of placing a web cam at the back of the class on the top of a globe and insisted on taking us into another room one by one to "discuss" our grades. 

I did only discuss my grades. 

After running club one lunch time he did ask me if I'd been to running club (I was in my P.E kit - good guess) 

Talking about P.E. kit - everyone had a Skirt with our full names embroidered and P.E. pants (grandma-ish), with a fully named tracksuit, the skirt then became a Skort, yep. 

An english teacher arrives to teach Set 2 GCSE English, I was in set 2. 

He was by no means attractive but that didn't stop him sleeping with a girl who had left the year previous. naughty. he now teaches abroad I believe - or was removed. 

Domino Effect

One girl does something unheard of (with a boy), so does EVERYONE else. Really. It was a big case of "keeping up with the Joneses" on everyone's side

And it got totally out of hand. 

People were accused of everything and I mean everything! 

If I was a rich girl (na na na na na na na na na na na na na na naaaaa) 

I'm not saying I went to Cheltenham Ladies' College (at around £23,000 a year!) but some girls had more than others and there was a hierarchy. 

There was an R form and an M form in every year. I was in R, the M's were always superior, in looks, wealth, grades, the R's had more fun though. 

There were three houses... Hugglepuff, Ravenousclaws and Griffins. 

Ha, sorry, they were Budowa, Commenius and Cennick, 

I was in Budowa, we lost everything, except sport 

In summary

Trip to NYC

There were girls who bought alcohol to school, some who bought in drugs, some who bought in STD's, some who became pregnant (SCANDALOUS!), some who left the building to go and see the "talent" across the road. He still lives there now, I believe - nice chap. 

There was bitchyness, there was teacher abuse, there was an hour and a half for lunch spent outside doing nothing, there were teachers who had degrees from African universities (that were made up), History teachers that had a soft spot for Neville Chamberlain, bought in action men and told us the answers to everything, there were Ski trips to America, trips to New York, trips to Venice, France and Germany, rituals of singing as loud as you could in the dining hall when it was someone's birthday and forgetting your hymn book was basically high treason and you were held accountable for death. 

Mad, bitchy, full of nutters. 

In September, its taking boys. 

Co-Ed. 

Ruined. 

RHS x