To The Antisocial Freshers

This is an open letter from one socially awkward person to another.

I’m 24. I have been to one mini house party, I’ve never been out out, fully. I have been out though, and I hate and regret it every time.

There’s a huge part of me that feels remorse at the fact I know I’ll never mingle comfortably, that I’ll feel a pressure from every angle staring at me, how it will linger in my chest and make me doubt everything about myself the next few days.

At school, the years of mischief and exploration, I stayed in a straight line never veering off. I already knew I hated groups of people, so why on Earth would I actively go out and spend more time than I needed too? I didn’t attend one social activity outside of school ones. I didn’t even go to prom.

A few years go by, I’ve had a job, I’ve grown in confidence, still work dos are awkward, I feel out of place and quite frankly, I could’ve been playing Sims.

But I decided that I had grown and wanted to try new things, I would take myself off to uni, (with lots of encouragement) I graduate this year. University was my last hurrah at what feels like a somewhat wasted youth, everyone else went to parties and drank, why didn’t I?

I went out a few times to Wetherspoons with my class after we finished lectures and actually I grew to quite enjoy them. I always got chips, because chips are my safe food when I’m out, I know I can eat them and not feel self conscious, I don’t know how everyone else managed to tuck into wraps covered in stuff and whatever else they got but they were two hands shove it in your mouth jobs and I applaud anyone doing that in front of anyone.

One night I attempted my first out out night, I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t like drunk people. A.) they’re unpredictable and because I’ve never been drunk, I have no idea what they could do. B.) I’ve spent all this time learning how to talk to someone and then they’re completely different and I have to learn all over again, it freaks me out and I don’t like it.

I don’t drink for a number of personal reasons, from health reasons to experiences I’ve seen. I think this is the barrier between me and the ‘nightlife’ world. Which is fine, because that’s just how it is.

Anyway, in this night out I will always remember, we were sat in the SU and a drunk guy comes over, gets down on one knee and proposes to be because he was dared to. A.) What on actual earth is happening? How do I respond. B.) the room isn’t dim and I’m sat round a high table thing with everyone else there. C.) stranger danger, jeez.

These are things I’m talking about, I hate it. I don’t even remember how I responded but I know I went bright red because my face and chest burned up. Great.

After that everyone went to the night club and I called for my boyfriend to pick me up, I had enough, I was shattered and I wanted to go to bed, it must’ve been nearing midnight by this time.

After that. I didn’t go out again, it wasn’t necessary. I went to uni, I went out out and regretted it. I didn’t go out again. In fact that night for me was the one where I told myself ‘you know what? You don’t like going out and that’s okay’.

I did however, find two lovely girls at uni and we frequently had sleepovers which were sober and chilled and fun, in fact I got very hyper most times because I loved going there. We had a lot of chips, and I like chips.

My point of this is, when you go as a fresher you may be like me, you may try and fit in, you may not succeed, you may try to go out out and think about all the games you could be playing instead. That’s fine.

I’ve given my social life years to develop, I’ve tried new things and I know what I want and what I don’t. That’s fine. Don’t let anyone pressure you into anything you don’t want to do. Whilst going out is uni culture, you’re there to get a degree, I got my first. I’m even debating whether to go to graduation because I’ve got my certificate now.

To summarise: I’m antisocial on the whole but social on my terms and if it’s not on my terms then I’m fake, you can have that for free! Conversations exhaust me and chips are my public eating safe food. Drinking culture is a social barrier and I would rather be playing Sims. That’s about all there is to takeaway from this.

Also, I should say, by year 3 I gained enough confidence to eat a Greggs vegan steak bake at the back of lecture. And that’s personal growth darlings, we love to see it.

Enjoy your uni experience, I loved mine, you will make lovely friends, cherish them and feel lucky while you can. I’m a proud party pooper, so please don’t invite me to any, I’d rather poke my eyes out.

Kara x

She’s got the whole world, in her cup – period.

Hello humans of the universe.

I’ll warn you now, this will include the words period, blood, vagina and contractions. If they freak you out (get over yourself) and/or this will have no impact on your life, see you on the next one, no worries – I appreciate I am an over-sharer. It’s one of my fabulous personality traits that make me unbearable after a few hours.

Anyone who knows me will know I’m getting more open and blunt as the years go by. But hopefully this will help some gals out there!

Now as a young woman in her early twenties. Okay, I say woman and cringe, I’m a somewhat semi-organised, worrying warrior, being-thing with a vagina.

Either way, every single month, my dear friend Mother Nature gifts me the dearest package:- the world falling out of me, tickled with potential contractions. It’s SO beautiful. Not to mention the mood swings and acne that accompany my soul. Truly a marvel and sight to behold. I know I’m not alone in this.

I used to absolutely dread my period coming. Mainly because it’s a bloody faff. Literally?!

As a worrier, I used to pre-rip the outer seal on pads so that when I changed them in public toilets you wouldn’t hear and massive RIIIIIP (from the paper, just to clarify) in the toilets. I mean it was petty, but hey, what do you expect from a petty person?

I used to worry about leaking through, I wore 2 pairs of pants, like that would stop anything but it made me feel better? If I really worried, I’d wear a pad AND shove neatly folded toilet paper on top to hide any mishaps I may have.

You name it, I did it. You’re probably thinking ‘use a tampon Kara, it’s really not that dramatic?’

I tried one once and never again, I pulled it out, lobbed it in the bin and walked out the toilet like it never happened, they are all sorts of wrong.

SO WHATS THE STORY HEEEEY?!

After that, you probably won’t be expecting what I’m going to preach about. I’m sat here on the sofa now loving life, and I just have to overshare with you; so what better way to do it then on a blog post? THIS IS FAB.

Menstrual cups. Yep.. 100% that’s what I’m preaching. A full on period holder that you shove up your vagina. I know. I’m just as shocked as you are. Hear me out.

I’m an open gal when it comes to periods, I tell everyone around me when I’m on, even if they don’t want to hear it. I don’t know why it just comes out.

One day I said it at uni and one of my friends mentioned to me – the menstrual cup. We didn’t get far into the conversation before she mentioned eco-friendly and my ears pricked up. To be honest, even if I didn’t get on with the cup, I’d probably use it just for that reason alone.

When I got home I immediately hopped online and took to Google to do some.. googling?

Instantly you are swamped with brands and stories popping up about menstrual cups – BUY ME BUY ME BUY ME. I’m pink buy me! Ooh, the list was endless.

There are a few big brands that are popular in the game, Moon-cup, Luna cup, Organicup etc..

I decided to go with Organicup – it comes in 2 sizes, A and B – each size correlates to vaginal shape and age, you know, whether you’ve had kids and stuff. I’ll leave the website down below so you can check it out for yourself. I also didn’t order from the site I ordered from eBay, that’s where I order everything else in my life so why would I branch off into foreign territory. eBay is fine for me, thank you! It was about £15 FYI. You can get them on Amazon too.

I was due a period when it was expected to arrive and for the first time ever I was actually looking forward to having a period. I mean all of the benefits and a new lady gizmo? Yeah.

It arrived (with a little pouch, I was buzzing, love a pouch). At first glance, this thing looked big. If I struggled with a tampon, how on Earth is this thing going to happen for me? But I persevered because it’s the most expensive bit of menstruating kit I’ve bought, and I’m petty and stubborn as previously mentioned.

I took it downstairs and tried my hardest not to show it off to the family so I had to keep my excitement to myself, I know isn’t that sad. I survived don’t worry.

Through to the kitchen, boil the kettle, mug on the counter, plop the cup inside the mug and pour boiling water on it. This is to kill bacteria and make sure it’s all clean ready to sit inside your body. Deadly serious.

After that I was ready to attempt the most invasive operation I’ve ever gone in for. Now there’s a video guide that shows all of this, it’s not a one way street. There’s girls that squat to put this in, some do it in the shower with one leg over their head (not quite, I do love to exaggerate), OR you can just do it sitting on the toilet which is what I opted for, classic. There’s also different folding techniques for the cup itself to make the process easier. The ‘C’ fold and the punch down. I went for punch down because it’s smaller that way.

I won’t go into too much detail about how it went for obvious reasons, I could really go to town but people who read my blog know me and tbh I cba with the eye contact afterwards you know?

All I’ll say is.. I was pleasantly surprised. BUT the little stick at the bottom was uncomfortable for me so that needed to go. (Very common, you can cut them completely off which is actually what I ended up doing, they help you locate it when it’s time to come out). If your cup sits further up into your canal then you won’t need to cut as much stem off.

This is where it got a bit disturbing. Taking it out. Ooo mama. I’m saying this after I’ve been a user for about a year. A word of advice should you opt to go for this (highly recommend – despite me not painting the best picture – I’ll get to it in a minute)

DO NOT YANK IT OUT. I copy and paste. DO NOT YANK IT OUT.

The cup forms a suction inside you, it sits near the opening of the vagina but the suction creates the seal that stops any leaking and keeps air and bacteria from getting in and forming. (You’ll know because the blood is bright red instead of the brown nastiness we’re used to – if you don’t like the sight of fresh blood then it might not be for you). It’s a good thing, it also holds it in place all day. Trust me, this little cup is a game changer.

However, little old me, panicked. My muscles therefore obviously tensed and I decided ‘oh my, holy moly, it’s stuck’. Instead of applying a squeeze and gentle twist. I just dragged slowly and heavily on the cup and it felt like I had honestly pulled the world out of me. Any cramp you were feeling just got pulled out along with your kidneys and ovaries.

Soon learned my lesson and even that didn’t put me off using it.

Girls, I cannot preach enough about how this cup has changed the game for me.

You can leave it in for 12 hours. That’s a whole day at work, a whole nights sleep. It’s like it’s not even there. If you insert it correctly you can’t feel a thing, luckily I mastered this straight away, you’ll know when it’s not in right. I end up doing a funky chicken leg dance to check it’s in place – whatever works, right?

There’s little risk of toxic shock syndrome providing you don’t leave it in for over 12 hours because the seal keeps the blood fresh, on a tampon the air gets to it and the bacteria begins to grow and manifest. The cup is made of medical grade silicone so it’s soft and pliable and there is nowhere for bacteria to grow unless you don’t clean it properly. Honestly it’s genius.

There is no need for pads, the first 3 months I wore a pantyliner just in case but there really wasn’t anything there unless I put it in slightly wonky. The 4th month in I could walk about naked doing cartwheels and wouldn’t have to worry at all. If I do worry I have a washable liner I purchased separately to catch any mishaps – also highly recommend it’s so much comfier than a pad, reusable and eco-friendly!!

My cramps have gotten so much better. Admittedly I think my birth control helps with this but there’s no chemicals trying to draw liquid from me, it’s the most natural process there can be in terms of bleeding.

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So what are the pros and cons?

Pros:

Eco friendly, cost effective, reusable and lasts for up to 10 years, natural process of bleeding, reduced cramps, leave in for up to 12 hours.

Cons:

1st time cost, not convenient if changing in public toilets (but you can clean it with a bottle of water).

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Just boil or wash with soap before your new cycle or at the end of your last cycle and you’ll be good to go. If you need to change during the day you just pop it out, empty down the toilet, rinse in the sink and pop back in again! I’m medium to heavy flow the first 2 days and I only have to change it twice, I could leave it longer but I get paranoid.

Pads and tampons take years to break down, not to mention the amount of money we spend on sanitary wear over our lifetime. I’m really invested in these little cups becoming our future way for periods and upcoming generations. I wish I discovered it sooner! With the topic of period poverty becoming more common, this could be a way forward to help those in need.

What do you think about the menstrual cup? Would you give it a go?

Thanks for letting me overshare as always, perhaps maybe convince you to try something new too?

Websites: https://www.organicup.com/

https://www.nhs.uk/news/lifestyle-and-exercise/menstrual-cups-safe-and-effective-alternative-tampons-and-pads/

Speak soon,

Bye!

Kara xo

This Is My Greenhouse

It glistens, the light jerking through crooked panes somehow aligned. Here in the box where flowers grow, a moment of time is captured. A moment of peace, serenity and growth – a mutual connection between human and nature. A moment where air clings to flesh, soothing and propelling the notion of still.

As fingers and seedlings become busy, the heat rises and the sun is welcomed. A home of warmth, a safe haven for little bursts of green. A place of tranquility becoming a friendly meeting for creatures combined.

How woven webs of silk trickle between canes holding up the sweet, sweet tomato. Centred with a baby spider, building his home in this sheltered space. In the near distance, the buzz of a fly hovers, confused by the clarity of this space. Free but trapped and wanting out.

Eventually windows and doors open, the air engulfed into reality, contact with something a little more ‘fresh’. It’s appreciative, and the plants sway in the delicate breeze, braving the whistle in the wind. But the air is loud and the calls of seagulls sound closer than before.

I step along the pavement, to the old trusty water tap. The dark and muted thudding sound of water flooding the very walls of the watering can, bubbles rush up as air is forced out. Then it slows down and the sound gets higher as the water rises. Fading to a stop.

The metal squeaks and clangs as the door is pulled shut, at last, silence falls upon us again and the warmth hugs my body. The safe space reclaims its title.

The watering can is tedious on my arms, though I am not the strongest. I am the strongest in this greenhouse. Taking care of nature in its very own place.

The water is cold and juxtaposes the tone. The sound of splashes and dribbles drop from the shelves, which upon sprouts of green have emerged. Saturation is well underway as the earth expands filling every inch of the seedlings’ pots.

The light still glistening through the crooked panes, dirty from the elements before. With partial white wash softening the light, it begins to glow. A place of mutual connection between human and nature. This is my human nature. This is my space of safe. This is where I grow my plants. This is my greenhouse, and it is loved.

Sweet Pea

Soon enough the rains turn to rainbows and what once was a battered seedling, her flesh sodden from the very eyes of mother nature; blooms into her true leaves as the sun rises amid the freshly sprouted curls of the willow tree.

Perhaps purity is restored and stronger than the highest power. Perhaps the winds that screamed in the park that night were screaming for her because she could not. Silenced, truest of the evils. A mere whisper would be locked inside her lips as he groaned inside of hers.

Sure, as the dancing petals on the tulip you watch grow every morning, justice is served. Layers of carmine and claret enclose the delicate. Persistence is volatile. Karma is a feisty one, they tell me.

As seasons pass the now standing sweet pea stands tall in her bed, basking in the sunlight as she has years before. Persistence is beautiful. Towers of lilac and lavender melt effortlessly into the velvet sky. Painting the transparent picture of peace and power. This was her prowess, an elegant victory against the bottle topped canes scattered throughout the earth. The princess among peasants and it is glorious.

Perhaps on this joyful day, sweet pea can preach the treacheries of battle. Perhaps she can sway among the winds and stand upright to the attention of the sun, basking. A song of victory loud enough to silence the birds, and the beauty to stop anyone her path.

As the moon rose and shone against her foliage, highlighting every stained raindrop sitting against the earth’s veins. She realised how far she had come. She realised she had won.

Kara

I’m writing a story! Chapter 2

Read the first part here – Part 1

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CHAPTER 2

5 o’ clock rolls around and my keys start to jingle as I run to my front door; escaping the rain that now began to pick up from a ‘light shower’ to the ‘drowned rat’ phase. I wipe my feet on my wired doormat that has the word ‘hello’ written in cursive writing – it sits boldly against the copper stained wiring.

There isn’t much to report on as far as my work day, pretty much the same old. My colleague besties Dan and Em we’re having a bit of flanter if my eye saw correctly. Oh, ‘flanter’ means flirty banter apparently. Yeah, that’s a thing now, I’m probably a bit too far gone to be saying such lingo at the grand age of 24. However, there was kind of no other word for it? It was the look they were giving each other as we started to unload a delivery of terracotta pots. We formed a line, a standard working line – the whole pass it on and perfect Chinese whispers scenario. I was being passed pots from the delivery guy – who might I just add, was flinging the pots at me from a great height and fairly fast off the van… terracotta pots are heavy! I drew the short straw standing next to him.

Once I had managed to capture and secure the pot before gravity took over. It was my turn to pass it on to Dan. You know when you just know something is going on. Occasionally I could hear little giggles from Em, and Dan would keep turning back to me smiling from their last exchange.

Insults flew back and forth but followed by momentary pauses of huge grins, nudging each other and giggles. It was quite cute actually, plus they’re younger so they get away with it. Is it the same if we do that in our mid-twenties? I can’t help but cringe at the thought of picturing myself in the same scenario.. but then I’m not one for romance anyway. Something could definitely become a thing between those two flanterous souls! I will keep you updated on that front.

I make my way upstairs, take off my uniform and hang it over the wooden end of my bed. I don’t have this ‘chair’ that everyone talks about. I’m lucky I can just fit a wardrobe in here. I put on an oversized top with a cat on, the graphic is slightly worn away due to the number of times it’s been washed, cried on, slept in, lived in. So what once looked like a cute kitten, now looks like an old stuffed toy a dog has had in its mouth.. the tail is hanging on by a thread and it’s missing an eye. Next, I put on my new Winnie the Pooh bottoms, they’re a brushed cotton so they’re extra cosy. Anything new from Primark you can strut about snug and smug in. It’s comfort at a bargain! I chuck on some fuzzy socks from about 5 years ago and head downstairs.

I get 2 steps down the creaky staircase before my body realises the time and starts to let me know it’s hungry. “Crap!” I muttered, plodding and tutting my way down the stairs, eye-rolling at myself. I forgot the fajita mix – of course, I did, I planned to have that meal yesterday and I’ve slept since then. So yes; I forgot. Never mind I can still have wraps, they just won’t have that smoky spicy kick that I crave every week.

Wraps for tea is a firm favourite in my little 2 up 2 down. It takes me back to my days as an 8-year-old at Margate Seafront – making my way up sand hills that appeared every autumn and disappeared every spring. Sandy toes often followed by sandy knickers as I fall over and roll down them mysterious piles. Mum and dad were never impressed; neither was I, finding sand in the oddest places and having to sweep the bed down as it became just as sandy as the shores. But at the end of the week on a school night, we’d always have wraps for tea! Well, that’s if we had the stuff in – if we didn’t we’d opt for the ever famous Fish n Chip Friday – Much to dad’s disapproval who had to stand in the queue halfway down the street as the whole village wanted in and waved the flag for Fish and Chip Friday! Totally worth it though.

The aroma of fried onions begins to fill my humble abode; next, the peppers and now my tummy really starts to gurgle. I prepare the wraps and set out the table. I fill and fold as I’ve always done and am appreciative of this meal.

Out of nowhere a ‘ding dong’ makes itself present, the doorbell. ‘What!?’ I exclaim with a mouthful of homemade perfection. My eyes widen. I am not expecting anybody? Was I? No. No, I definitely wasn’t. I prepare myself and swallow that mouthful that was definitely not chewed enough but I didn’t have time; so I’ll have to deal with the painful lump in my throat now. I make my way down the claustrophobic hallway to the front door, eerily trying to work out the pink silhouette that blocked out the only light in this part of the house. It’s like a horror film in my head! If this is the way I’m supposed to go, well, at least it will be in comfort – I can’t say much for style though.

I take two more steps before I hear a muted tutting and a whispered, thinking out loud moment – ‘Where is she, come on Dais!’. I sigh a breath of relief, smile and pick up the pace to the door, opening it with the biggest smile and welcoming arms.

“Mum! You scared me, what you doing here?” I say telling her off.

“Oh sorry love, Jackie said she saw you at work today and you looked a bit lonely so I thought I’d come to see my baby – thanks for the welcome though”

Mum had an odd tone about her, she had a voice that carried for miles yet her words were direct and straight to the point. A squeaky voice, but a pleasant one – the voice of a sweet grandma now. I can’t say I can remember her voice always being this way, maybe it’s changed over the years but it was the voice that made everything bad go away – regardless of the circumstance or tone.

Mum is still stood in the rain as I gaze at her in disbelief that she’s just waltzed up to my doorway on a Tuesday evening. I’m grateful, eternally grateful that she’s here – the evening just got a whole lot better.

“Oh, I’m sorry – come in come in! I just wasn’t expecting you that’s all, I’m having tea at the minute but there might some mix left if you want some?”

She comes in and wipes her feet on the mat looking at me in awe that I’m an adult living independently and thriving. I can tell she’s emotional and filled with pride – she’s the same way every time she visits this little house.

“Oo you ‘avin wraps?” She says sniffing the air and pulling the face we all do when we smell fried onions in the air.

“Smell them from a mile away can’t you?” I giggle.

“Can’t beat a wrap, love – I’m sorry I didn’t mean to intru..” “No! Don’t be silly” I interrupt.

We make our way into the kitchen and take a seat. From there the conversation flows and she fills me in on all the gossip I’ve missed. You know for someone in her late 50’s, she’s still heavily invested in the dramas of the village. She always was nosy though – but I don’t mind. It’s something that keeps her going.

“And you know Bill, babe?” She continues…

“Builder Bill?” I confirm.

She nods – “he had a heart attack last Wednesday” I look her in shock as she carries on “yeah I know, didn’t see that one coming, he’s been in hospital for the last 4 days, I’ve been meeting with Trace though, making sure she’s alright bless her heart, she’s been in bits” she says looking down and shaking her head.

Bill the Builder aka Builder Bill, was around the same age as mum. When we lived in the village as children he came round and built the wendy house for me and my brother. He stayed in touch with the family and we went out for a Sunday lunch down The George with them once. A nice couple – but very cheeky and I was far too young to understand the jokes they were making that flew over my head.

“That’s scary” I say looking worried at mum.

“I know” she pauses “smoker though int he, Trace said he’s been struggling the last few years but he won’t be told, typical fella”. Mum had a way with words, it’s not that she didn’t like men, she was just very sure that they were all the same. The whole ‘Men are from Mars and women are from Venus’ is something she strongly agrees with.

There’s silence for a moment and I’m suddenly very aware that I’m eating. Mum cannot stand the sound of people chewing, and I can’t stand the sound of my chewing in front of people. She looks at me and just stares with a smile on her face like she’s about to say something emotional, movie-like and sentimental. I catch her eyes and am transfixed to stare back. “What?” I say, in a moody teenage fashion, because I know she’s going to get soppy.

“I’m so proud of you, you know Dais” she says tilting her head to the side and making her eyebrows form to a weird shape, it’s like she’s going to cry but also that she’s just seen a really cute kitten.

I look down placing the last quarter of my wrap on the plate, I smile whilst finishing the last of the bite – grab her hands across the table and thank her. We have this moment about twice a year and it’s nice. It’s a reminder that I’m doing right by her, I’m making her proud and that everything will be alright for me. As cringy as I find the moment. It’s something I look back on and cherish – it’s the sign that I’m going to be okay. Admittedly these moments are getting more and more emotional as we both realise in each other’s eyes that one day we won’t have a moment like this anymore.

If there’s one thing that moving away and becoming this grown-up has taught me. It’s that time doesn’t wait for anyone. It’s brutal and it will eventually win. We’re just in a long line waiting for our time to come. It’s the hardest pill to swallow knowing that your parents are further in the queue than you – and at some point, you will watch them take their place as 1st; accepting fate whilst you stand back from the sidelines with nothing you can do.

“I love you” I say to her trying my hardest to stop the little droplets form in the corner of my eyes. My lips tremble but mum doesn’t make a scene of it, she just smiles and says it back, tapping the back of my hand before pulling away.

“When are you gonna get a new top? You won’t get a boyfriend with that thing. Doesn’t exactly scream sex goddess does it?” She breaks the emotional scene with her classic screeching ways. My mouth drops to a half laugh half offended face “MUM! I happen to think it’s stunning, and any fella would be lucky to get their hands on this gal!” I say with sarcastic confidence strutting and shaking my bum around the kitchen.

We both giggle and mum starts helping herself to a wrap. “What film you putting on for us then?” she asks with a cheeky smirk, insinuating that we’re having a girlie night in. I smile and run to set up the TV and scour the selection I pay monthly for. This evening is going to be fab.

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Thank you for reading, what do you think? Maybe I’ll keep writing this story and end up with a short little book! That would be exciting!

I have no idea what’s going to happen in this story I’m making it up as I go, I appreciate that isn’t ideal but we will see what happens!

Speak soon friends,

Kara xo

I’m writing a story! Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I’ve never published a large chunk of writing like this before – only my poems. Don’t take it too seriously, also, I used to get lots of comments from my English teachers about having a weird sense of punctuation, they said I didn’t use it right but that it wasn’t a bad thing either and was a bit charming but confusing. So I’m sorry if it throws you off, I’ve tried to make it alright but I just write as I think/speak in my head! Okay enjoy xxx

A short Monday morning write by Kara (that’s me) – this is the title btw I don’t have one!

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CHAPTER 1

A dreary start to the ever-charming weekend. Luckily I’m only in on a 12-5, the perks of being in a local business. Although I have to say, the reality of lovely hours turns to a struggle to pay the bills, and that doesn’t half hit hard that last Sunday of the month.

It’s the 3rd of September and the wind starts to turn to a bitter edge with the slight hint of damp sitting in the air. The smell of rain is not for everyone, but it’s a comforting scent and reminds me of better days. Last autumn I decided to splash out on a coat I’d seen in Grazia magazine, some B-List celeb was wearing it and I thought it looked like something off a runway. Turns out it was from Matalan for £49; which I thought was fairly reasonable. It’s a boyfriend style, long coat with a tailored front, an extended version of a blazer I suppose in a charcoal grey, with a grid patterned outline all over; the material makes me itch slightly at the wrists and neck though, just where the polyester lining inside finishes. It’s served me well and I receive many a compliment so it was well worth the money. Although the stitching on the right pocket has decided to fray despite me only using it to store tissues and bus tickets in. But I’ll look past it for the fact I definitely look like I’m currently studying a fashion degree, at a quirky university nobody has heard of.

I fix up my morning brew, a homemade latte with a dash of hazelnut syrup – just like they make in the fancy overpriced coffee shops. I mean the milk isn’t frothy, I don’t have a frother thing, but that’s enough for me. The few first delicate sips are the ones that mean the most, I know the water is hotter than the sun but somehow I think that the little slurps are enough for the scalding water to skim over my tongue, thus adjusting me for the bigger sips I’ll take after these ones. Isn’t it odd we do that? Everything is a mad dash in this lifetime and I certainly get this trait from my mum. She can never start the day unless she has a cup of coffee, in fact, she is a grouchy cow without it, but soon perks up after. My dad is the exact opposite and will actually wait all morning until his coffee is cold before he drinks it, much to the disapproval of mum who looks at him with utter dismay at the thought of a fresh coffee left to go stale.

It’s 10:15A.M. so the metallic clatter I hear in the near distance doesn’t surprise me – it’s the letterbox. Let’s see what I have today.. “Hmm, Freya’s Fixing Service? No thanks” I say to myself; I throw that letter on the side – I always do that and it makes no sense why; I still have to open it and tear out my address before I bin it. A magazine from Avon – which reminds me, I must cancel that subscription – I don’t even remember signing up to it? Lastly, I pick up the Thanet Gazette and try to keep up to date with the where and tearabouts of this place. For a beautiful seaside town, it has its fair share of trouble, as does anywhere though, I have to tell myself. The trouble is reminiscent of the sea I suppose, one bad bunch come in, make their mess, grow up and leave again; before another generation forces their way in.

My only fear is that the waves are getting bigger and bigger as the years go on; unless I’m just becoming an 80-year old that tuts at everything. This is possible and is most certainly inherited from dad who thinks he’s a local police officer, a professional number plate checker. He’s secretly very proud of it, but we won’t say anything!

‘Backyard Burglar Breakthrough’ I begin to read the headlines and the small print that follows.

‘Ian Rifter, 59, has been the victim several times of a burglar that had made their way into his home, via a conservatory door that appears to be lock-picked. PC Simon Hall, a police officer of 14 years says he’s never seen a case so frequent and it’s finally time we found the suspect.

Following the last 3 phone calls – Mr Rifter was advised to change his old style conservatory door lock and install CCTV to capture any criminal activity. Both of which he claims he did.

A month later, Mr Rifter found himself the victim of what would be his last break-in – luckily, CCTV managed to capture the 24-year-old back with a lockpick for several minutes before he entered the family home – scanning, making a list and opening drawers that sat near the conservatory door.

The suspect has been identified as Kallum Frold, 24, who is local to the area. Charges are impending..’

I interrupt my reading “Kallum Frold.. why do I know that name?” I quiz myself whispering as I look around my kitchen as if the answer would appear on the wall. That name rang a bell in my head, but I can’t remember why. I’ll have to ask mum when I see her next. Also, he definitely didn’t change that lock!

It’s 11:20A.M. and a little bit of anxiety kicks in before I have to leave for work. I mean it’s not that I hate my job, it’s the drive I get worried for, but I know I’ll be fine.. I always am.

I walk upstairs to get changed for work, a forest green textured polo neck, with an embroidered badge just above the left side chest that read: ‘Farm Flower Nurseries’. Followed by the graphic of a badly drawn watering can, in the oddest shade of supposed ‘gold’. Next, I put on my skinny cargo trousers, they aren’t the most flattering things in the world, but they have 5 big pockets throughout – it’s always fun when it comes to washing day for these bad boys, as you can probably imagine! Finally, I slide on 2 pairs of cheap black socks followed by my pink work boots.

Oh if you didn’t guess already, I work at my local plant farm, not the type that grows veggies and fruits, although we do have a few fruit trees – we cater for garden and houseplants, something I am most fond of. Mum thinks it’s great, my boss lets me take any plants I can propagate for myself home for pennies! I remember bringing home a whole crate of purple lobelias last year, she got so excited!

My mum is one of those women that care what people think of her front garden. To make sure that the ornaments she buys from M&S – are always standing and never slouched. That the paving slabs that she paid a small fortune to be laid, are free from any overgrowth. God forbid she let a dandelion show its face. I think she’d have a nervous breakdown just at the thought. She’s well known in the garden centre where I work and is often told to put her garden in the competitions you see floating about. She gets a little shy, blushes at the voice of flattery; but deep down she revels in it. As she should, I’ve never seen a pair of hands so shredded from thorns and dry from her heavy labour.

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Read chapter 2 here – Chapter 2

I’ll stop here, this was a nice morning write actually – what do you think? I know it’s not the best or professional, but if I read books, these are the kind of things I’d read about..

As I haven’t read much in my life ever! (I’m reading my first ever book right now actually) I don’t really know how it all works or have things to be ‘inspired’ by. Hence why I only write from the 1st person because I just make a character in my head then write and create their story and person as I go on.

Thanks for reading if you stuck around this long!

Kara xo

The Power of Petite!

Hello friends,

This post is about body awareness, realisation, it’s about the image we have of ourselves and it’s about how clothing makes all the difference.

Here’s something I’ve learnt the last few days.

I’ve learnt my waist size: 24/25 perhaps a 26 if I get bloated? My inside leg size: 28. I’m 5ft 1.

What does that say to you? Petite, right? Well this gal has been buying non petite clothes all her life, then feeling incredibly frustrated and deflated when she can’t find anything in the shop that fits her. Apart from H&M, I got a lot of time for H&M. But whilst they fit my waist, I’m still struggling with the legs!

It’s taken me 22 years to realise the power of the petite section.

I mean how I’ve completely blanked the idea of it is mind blowingly idiotic.. since I’ve been the same height since year 9, you’d think I’d know better, but apparently not.

One thing I will say about why I avoid stuff is that I’m a cheap CHEAP girl. My idea of going shopping is seeing what’s in the Primark sale or in charity shops – and I’m running out of patience with both.

SO.. I took to eBay and Depop – GAME CHANGER. Now yes, risky because you can’t try it on, but I barely try stuff on anyway because I hate shopping it’s stressful – there’s humans involved and we all know how I feel about that.

But, I have to say, I’ve had a great and fab time so far!

My first piece that arrived was a bargain of just £4 from eBay, Topshop Petite with the labels still on – was £20 new.. me likeyyy! It’s a striped wrap top, a new style for me too!!

I have to say, this has changed me forever. I put it on and immediately got excited, not only did it fit me perfect, the quality was nice and suddenly I had a lil amount of confidence to ooze out! Something I have felt, well.. never!

This the top! Size 6 Petite from Topshop.

From the humans in my life so far, I’ve had nothing but compliments when I wore it too! So that wasn’t the worst thing in the world!

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The Shopping Experience

I recently took to Topshop after myself and Kiz got excited about the top in the picture, he decided I should go and try some jeans that will fit me well!

So we make it into Topshop. I made my way into the jeans section – immediately overwhelmed by the rows and rows of the same jeans in different colours, then a different jean with a variation of rips. OH not to mention every single pair is a different size!

But somehow I kind of liked it, it had a very unique feel to it, not like in Primark where everything is just one size.. the different waist and leg lengths made the whole thing more.. tailored.. duh!

I took in a pair of Jamie jeans – a pair of Orson? I think that was it, and a pair of Joni jeans. The Joni jeans were the ones I’d heard most people talk about – and I soon realised why!

I made my way to the changing rooms, a little anxious as anywhere but there was a group of girls gathered on the light pink cushioned bench that sat in the middle of the mirrored square room.

I pulled back the curtain and SOMEONE WAS IN THERE NAKED!!

Not really, I just wanted to wake you up a bit..

Why are changing room curtains so tall and heavy, I had to keep double checking that there were no gaps! I’m on my tippy toes trying to lug this massive bit of cloth across the doorway that protected my body from being exposed to the girls on the seats..

I can hear them giggling whilst I’m getting changed, EVERY part of me says omg they’re laughing at you (even though I knew they weren’t) but I held it together and tried on these fabulous custom fit jeans!

First the Jamie jeans – they were okay, they fit nice but they had hardly any stretch in them and they weren’t the comfiest..

Then the Orson (kind of a mom style straight leg number)- I got a waist 25 but they were massive so not sure what that was about?! So no.. not for me.

And then.. it’s was Joni’s turn..

I got nervous babes.. I’ve heard good things but they looked bloody skinny.. skinnier than I was. I knew that I didn’t look like the size 0.01 mannequin that rocked these either.

Anyway, I approached with confidence – I swear as soon as my leg started to go in they began to mould to me.. my foot went through the ankle hole (that was my worry) no problems!

And the waist?! Babes let me tell you something about these jeans.. as a size 4/6 with little curvature and no bottom, I found myself having shape.. they gave me hips – or at least brought them out a bit more!

Confidence level had risen again.. I was feeling myself for a hot minute but also sweaty because changing clothes is a workout and I was still aware I was in the middle of a shopping centre with a curtain blocking my exposure.

Long story short gals.. the hype and the admiration of the Joni jeans is one I am joining. Honestly, putting the jeans that I walked in there with, back on. Was the most hilariously disappointing experience ever!! I walked out to Kieran giggling at the material that fitted so poorly around my legs. “I need a pair of Joni jeans” I confirmed to Kieran, and got straight on eBay that night looking for a second hand pair.. (well I’m still a cheap girl, they were nice jeans but not enough for me to take out a loan)

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Thus, here I am now.. sat in my bedroom on a Sunday writing this blog post, getting a little giddy at the fact that I’ll have more petite parcels coming through the door tomorrow morning.

I’ve never gone out so much to treat myself to a new wardrobe, I’m not a girl that buys a nice new top every time she goes out – I hate spending money. So it’s big deal for me to do this and it’s well needed!

I was a massive believer in just wearing anything, it doesn’t have to be good quality and a baggy t shirt will do.

My mind is changing, your clothing is a form of self care and says a lot about you and I won’t lie.. I ogle at clothes so far from what I’d consider budget friendly (like Topshop, Next, Zara) but if you can get a bargain, or love some second hand stuff – you can have clothes that fit you properly, are good quality and perhaps restore a confidence in you that you deserve to have.

I’m not saying your whole wardrobe should be good names.. mine certainly won’t be.. and I will still run to Primark sale racks and get excited. But perhaps I’ll be more mindful about the money I spend and make sure that the clothes I buy; are worth it and make me feel good.

This was a chatty one!

Thank you for reading friends,

Kara xo

ASMR – Yeah, I’m Going There!

*Okay, I’m going to need you to be open-minded with this one. Hear me out.*

What the heck is ASMR Kara and are you okay hun?

By this point, you will probably have heard of this by now (I wrote this blog post last year, but I’m a professional and didn’t upload it hehaho!) or better yet, you’ve seen me farting about on IG Stories doing an ASMR series myself! (yeah, it’s not serious though but deep down, I would quite like to do the whole ASMR thing, its fun!)

No gals and guys, this is very real and for myself – a life changer. ASMR stands for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response. Yes, I did remember that off the top of my head and yes I am wearing a smirk. Sorry that I’m a scientist, you know?

From what I’ve seen and taken from it, over the years of watching – ASMRtists – (yes, that’s the term) make lots of different sounds, these sounds are called triggers. Stay with me. Now the triggers are supposed to be sounds that your individual person loves and in turn, experiences tingles in your head and spine! These are completely clean tingles, none of the funny stuff – I see you looking at the screen like that. Filth.

So what sounds become triggers? There are many, but I will just list the sounds that make me feel like it’s nap time. You’ll see a running theme here, childhood.

• Tapping – Often nails on a surface or object, sometimes they sound like rain, sometimes the rhythm makes me sleepy. But mainly, I just enjoy the sound of nails tapping on things! I also think a big connection was my aunty who used to have talons, they would tap on everything – so it takes me back to being little.
• Hair brushing – An ultimate fav and my favourite videos to watch. Takes me instantly back to my childhood of my mum brushing my hair! It made me sleepy then, it makes me sleepy now. For an extra bonus, there are hairdressing videos which include hair being cut, now that is a treat!
• Rustling – Bags, paper, material. You know when your parents used to get the bags out and you knew it was shopping time. I’d watch them pack all of the bags and load them into the car. I sat in the back seat and all I could hear was rustling.
• Writing – Finally, writing. There’s no specific link to childhood here. I just have a very weird thing for stationery and writing.

Now I personally do not get these ‘tingles’, but I do feel incredibly calm, sleepy and happy! – which is what I use it for. It takes me back to my childhood and has almost become my comfort blanket. I listen to it every night before bed without fail. If you’re an over-thinker and know that it’s going to be dangerous if you sit in a silent room. This may be for you.

I’m just gonna say it. I love it.

It’s not for everyone, I admit – some are put off just by the whispering alone. To be honest many of the artists out there don’t tickle my testicles either. But those that I have found, I love – and they take ASMR to what I would consider – a level of sound therapy.

There are many types of ASMR, some are weird and are on the what we call the ‘weird bit of YouTube’. I’m talking sexualised role plays, or role plays that are not in a typical calming context i.e. getting kidnapped?! Which I think, ruin the reputation of it personally. Unless you are into that no judgement.

Watch these ones I give you and you’ll be safe!

1. WhispersRed ASMR – THE QUEEN. Emma was the first person I came across that didn’t weird me out. This was over 3 years ago now! She has a very motherly personality and is known for her signature red locks and perfect manicures! She is British and speaks with clarity. She is also a fantastic singer and will sometimes hum tunes to aid sleep – She’s actually Mary Poppins! If you watch anyone today – watch her. Cause she’s doing it right and always has. I just wish her videos were sometimes a little longer. Click here – for hair brushing! The video I have linked you too is one that I must’ve watched about 30 times. It’s one of my favourites! Out of all these lovelies, I’ve grown attached to her voice and if I’m really having negative thoughts, she’s the one I sit and listen to every spoken word!

 

2. ASMRMagic – I have only subscribed to her last year. Very pleasantly surprised as I didn’t think anyone would come near Emma! She uses top quality microphones to pick up every sound! The length of her videos is amazing, most around an hour long and she covers every trigger you can think of! Click here – intense sounds and no talking!

 

3. ASMRGlow – Not only is Sharon one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen, she’s the bee’s knees at makeup too! I am in love with her accent as it has a french twinge! Outside of ASMR, she streams on Twitch if that’s something else you love to watch! She plays lots of different characters and has a popular ‘Fixing You’ series in which you are some sort of human-robot thing like her! Here is one of my favourites from her! Click here – for role play and haircut!

4. GibiASMR – Gibi is the last ASMRtist I’m sharing today, I discovered her around the same time as Glow. Again she is a twitch streamer but comes up with creative videos – she recently did a Harry Potter series if you’re a fan?! I keep putting this video on but if I’m honest I don’t know what happens all the way through cause I’m already asleep so it must be a good soothing one! Click here – for having a new face applied! (It doesn’t hurt promise!)

They are the only 4 I fully trust and watch regularly. However, I have listened to ASMRDarling, GentleWhispering ASMR, FredsVoice ASMR too and they are all very good!

If you know any others you love, please share them with me, I’m always looking for more people to listen to!

If you click on the links be sure to wear headphones! You get the best results then, but they are equally as relaxing without! I also don’t have my volume all the way up when watching these videos, just under halfway. It depends on how sensitive you are I suppose!

Watch one and give it a chance, you might be a lucky one who gets tingles!

Thank you for reading and visiting today, come back soon!

Sleep well friends!

Kara xo

I do not own any of these photos.

Bilou Product Review!

Welcome back cherubs, hope you are doing so wonderfully!

I have not been asked to advertise any of these products btw, I just want to share them because I’ve never used formulas like these before!

I received a jolly exciting email from a new company I had never heard of before asking if I would like to try their new products that are launching in Superdrug UK! All vegan, all cruelty-free! Gals, you know I squealed and said yes.. cut to a few days later the most beautiful PR package I’ve had so far arrived at my house!

A little handwritten note, that’s doubled straight as a new positive quote on my positive quote board. A booklet that had all the product and brand information inside and then of course.. the goodies! Eeeeeek.. (all in colour corresponding tissue paper to the product’s scent may I just add! Nice touch Bilou!)

Told you! How cute!

Inside were 3 products all from their different ranges, I received a Foam Lotion from the Cotton Candy scent! A 2in1 bodyspray from the Coco Cocktail scent aaaand a Creamy Shower Foam from the Pink Melon scent!

So, of course, I immediately sprayed the body spray all on my arms, cause I love me a bodyspray oooooo yeaaah. I noticed it felt quite grippy almost when I rubbed my arms together and thought it was a bit odd. ANYWAY, had a look at the packaging and used the old eyeballs to have a read and what dya know? IT CAN DOUBLE AS A DEODORANT. The game changed and it was then sprayed into the pits I don’t mess about.

It’s good you know? It actually worked… Of all the products I think this is the one I’m most excited about! I LOVE A 2 IN 1. The scent lasted all day too, I walked down to show dad the products and he was like, why can I smell coconut? It was me, there I was, smelling of coconut. Glorious.

OKIE DOKES.. what’s next!

OH, the foaming lotion… I have never in my life ever used a moisturiser mousse thing that you spray out of a can, I felt like it was supposed to go in my hair.

Anyway didn’t take long for the scent of cotton candy to find its way into my massive nostrils and once again my eyes lit up. (I’m very easily impressed, you know how I feel about smells – they change my mood instantly). It’s made with almond oil, shea butter and avocado oil so you know it’s packing goodness. It soaks into the skin in literally seconds and doesn’t leave a greasy residue, I’m actually very impressed and I will be using this as my main moisturiser now!

Last but not least is the Creamy Shower Foam – I think this is my least favourite product purely because I found that the scent was very very strong and the smell of melon was more on the fresh, sickly sweet smell rather than the subtle sweet smell, ya know? I used it to shave my legs with and it worked quite well actually! But again, you have to be quick because the foam soon soaks in – again this was a moisturising body wash so that’s a good thing, it didn’t bubble up and I find that lathery soaps tend to be quite drying, so it was a nice change!

Final thoughts?!

All in all.. these are bloody fab and I recommend them, they’d be adorable to receive as a gift! OH not to mention that they have some of the CUTEST packaging I’ve ever seen! The branding is beautiful as was the package I received – I’m incredibly grateful so thank you Bilou! I’m all for trying new products and it’s wonderful to see another cruelty free and vegan brand emerging! You can find them here – Bilou

Thank you for reading friends!

Kara xo

Acne: The Fix – The Consultation (Part 1)

Hello friends.. well, flip.

What do you know, I received a phone call on the 1st of August for a last minute appointment with the dermatologist. This was it. I finally see a specialist about my ruined skin.

The outcome was a fairly serious one so I wanted to make sure I blogged it all, this may help anyone going through the process or who are thinking about going through a medical route.

I’m one of those people who can say they’ve tried just about everything to get their skin looking somewhat normal, but for me, the problem has always been on the inside out.. not the outside in.

This is a sunburn on my nose from the last acne treatment that didn’t work! This was Doxycycline.

By that I mean yes I have acne on my face, but it doesn’t matter how many treatments I apply to my skin, why am I still waking up with more?.. cause they stem from inside my body, nobody walked over and placed a lump of pus under my skin at night did they? It grew, like a mini demon.

So what happened?

It took me 3 doctors visits, 3 different types of oral medication and topical and 3 failed attempts at clearing my skin. Alongside all the treatments and creams that weren’t over the counter! At this point, the doctor said he will refer me to a dermatologist (my eyes lit up) because it’s been years and we’ve tried the routes we can.

Voila, I find myself sitting in the hospital a month and a half later praying this gets sorted.

I’ve been on the contraceptive pill and the mini pill. Both didn’t touch me. However, I will say that if you’re going on Isotretinoin then you HAVE to be on some form of contraception and it cannot be the mini pill as that’s bad for skin apparently! (according to my derma)

See you can see all the lumps that aren’t even red, it’s everywhere!

The dermatology appointment.

I sat down, she introduced herself — I said hello I’m Kara please can you fix me and she said ahh.. very firmly and abruptly.. she put sanitiser on her hands and then began to explore my face and straight away was confirming what she’d already read prior to the physical meeting.

Lots of ‘oh yes you’ve got lots of comedones and pustules there, oh bless you.. okay hmm alright..’ then she retracted away from my face, sanitised once more.. took and breath and said OK. What have you been using so far?

This was my moment, I took a bag with me babes, I filled it with EVERY product that wasn’t in the bin that I had used to tackle these skin demons.. her face dropped, she wasn’t happy. ‘You need to stop using these right now, they’re full of oils, and then they strip your skin and make it dry, you need to stop using these right now”. Told you she didn’t mess about! ALL the products I’ve been using are your standard ‘WE HELP YOUR ACNE BUY US!‘ ones, you know the ones.

I knew she was right, although some products take the redness down, many preach about drying out the spot to kill it. Well if my infection is deep-rooted, putting products on with a drop of salicylic acid in, won’t do jack.. and they didn’t surprise surprise else I wouldn’t be in this mess.

After this she told me she was going to put me on Isotretinoin, I said okay is that Roaccutane? And she said “it’s a cheaper form of it, we don’t do Roaccutane because it’s expensive and we can’t afford it”.. so fair enough really.

However, in the pamphlet I was given it says it was formerly known as Roaccutane so it’s up there with the big dog. And if you type Isotretinoin in google, it comes up with Roaccutane so I’m assuming it’s the same thing under a different name.. I have no idea I’m not a doctor.. all I know is, is that its heavy stuff. JEEZ, THAT WAS A RAMBLE!

Now, she asked if I had depression – I did but I don’t feel I have it anymore so I explained that and she said that a there’s been a few cases of suicide so if I feel any depressing thoughts, come off it straight away and talk to someone – I said yep that’s fine, she said most people are happy anyway because their skin clears up. I agreed.

Then, I had some things of my own to do. I have to have a pregnancy test every month whilst I’m taking the medication AND I had to sign a form saying I will take contraception and that I understand the birth defects that the baby will face should I get pregnant blah blah.. basically don’t get pregnant it’s dangerous and you HAVE to use contraception. That’s fine. All is well. Good.

After downing 8 buckets of water and jumping about in the toilet I managed to get a urine sample for them to test… I was not informed I would have to do this you see else a gal would’ve been more prepared! So if you see a derma, probably best to drink before you go!

Before I left she told me some skin products that are safe to use. I don’t know how many of the brands are vegan which sucks absolute dog bobbings so I’ll have to do some research. (None of them are, so if anyone knows any non-comedogenic and oil-free vegan makeup and skin products, please let me know!)

FOR ANY VEGANS –

I just want to say, no. This treatment is not vegan, I’m aware of that. However, my mental health has been affected by my skin for years and you’d probably be the same. So before anyone starts complaining and slating me – I don’t feel the best person going through this treatment but I’m putting my own body under stress for this too with all the potential side effects.

The treatment is temporary (hopefully) – unfortunately my lack of body positivity and confidence issues have been permanent for over 3 years. It means a lot to me to do this for myself. Okay that is all.

Then she took my photo for mine and her record, which came out vile, she had a good camera and it didn’t miss a lump, it was beautiful!

Now I need to have a blood test and collect the drugs from the pharmacy when all my tests come back fine, then I can begin the treatment.

So there isn’t much to report on so far, this was just the first meeting and I’m sure they’ll be a few more to check how I am doing. I’ll post some photos of what I’m like now and HOPEFULLY throughout the treatment we can see improvements! 🤞🏻

I don’t actually feel nervous to post this because if I can get treated for it, then I know it’s just a phase in my life! IF it works!

The dermatologist was lovely and was confident in this drug so I’m quite confident I’ll get somewhere with it! It’s the last resort really!

Okay here are photos of me now – the first lot of photos!

As you can see, lots of blackheads, lumps and bumps, scarring and basically everything you don’t want on your face.. is on my face! HOW GLORIOUS. Baring in mind, I wash my face twice a day, exfoliate every 3 or so days. Apply numerous treatments and prescribed creams. NOTHING IS WORKING. *my eye is twitching*

So join me for the next few months or however long it takes for this spot fest to disappear! I’m so over it now! UGH.

Thank you for reading friends,

Kara xo