Getting Under the (Blemished) Skin of Teenagers

After years of being faced with discrimination, peculiar looks and remarks relating to my age, I've finally had enough. I've reached the end of my tether with negativity surrounding so-called 'troublesome' adolescents and the oh-so-frightful labels - many of which give the wrong impression to the general public - which are incorrectly tagged upon me, simply because I'm stuck in a sort of limbo between childhood and eventual adulthood. Sounds great, doesn't it?

First of all, I only turned fifteen around three weeks ago and so I'm rapidly nearing the time when exam mania will fall upon me, wrapping myself up into a world mainly focused on revising, expanding the storage space in my brain like a hard drive and experiencing harsh levels of guilt as to failing to chuck out my ancient Bratz pencil case years ago. Unlike what many are often led - or choose - to believe, I actually quite enjoy learning because it offers me the perfect outlet to showcase my skills and take one step further towards fulfilling my life-long dream of becoming a journalist or pursuing a career as a crime-fighting barrister, and I think that I'm correct in declaring that the majority of teenagers share similar views to my own.

A recent survey (as reported by i) has found that as many as a fourth of all teenagers are motivated to break into the jobs industry and work equally as hard as their older peers, many of whom only prefer to focus on the binge-drinking reports which truly misrepresent teenagers in a poor light. And, considering that teenagers have all but been the focus of media scrutiny since they came into their own back in the rocking 50s', is there a chance that this problem could ever change?

When I grabbed my hands upon the survey several days ago, a feeling of heartfelt pride, hope and relief flooded through my veins because I had given into my fears long ago that my generation - who, in my opinion, are more interested in improving their skills and strengthening views which would even make the Prime Minister waver in his shoes - would always been pushed aside to a lonely corner, destined to be forever criticized for committing petty crimes, causing a mini-riot during a rave and sending offensive messages to whomever we could think of on Facebook. Yes, there are those little-minded people who will continue to inflict pain upon people or create a mess which everybody else will have to clear up, but why should those teenagers be the misguided representatives of modern day teenagers?

Like adults, countless teenagers make tons of mistakes - most of which are unintended, if you've ever wondered why your daughter or son strolls around the house with the weight of the world on their shoulders after accidentally smashing your beloved mug to smithereens - but we try to make the most of it by learning from previous errors and eventually moving on, yet it is almost impossible to do so when the door is constantly slammed in front of our faces all the time. No words in my Collins dictionary can describe the embarrassment I unwillingly face whenever I walk into a cosmetics shop, for example, to purchase a lipstick for which I obviously intend to pay; out of the corner of my eye, I can tell that a security guard is boring his or her eyes in my back, a sensation of which unleashes the most uncomfortable feelings within me. As a few thoughtless youths decided against purchasing make-up legally, thousands of hard-working teenage girls and I are wrongful victims of discrimination which happens on a daily basis - and it should stop now. Age is purely a number and stereotypes clearly do not extend to every single person living on the planet - if I had any true intentions of stealing my favourite lipstick, would I have ever displayed an interest in abiding and studying Law?

Part of the dilemma surrounding teenagers and their million and one problems is that many adults - who, in case a short-term spell of amnesia has clouded their memory, used to be teenagers themselves - forget that adolescents can be so easily hurt by spiteful and negative remarks placed towards them on such an often basis. Until recently, almost everything I've read about teenagers has been written by adults who are purely led astray by numerous reports about modern day teens struggling to excel in school or other areas of life, as it appears that a constant round of adolescent-themed negativity goes on during each generation. Personally, I feel that I am mentally stronger to fight off these claims with a powerful strength than if I'd been placed in a similar position twenty or so years before; nowadays, your background no longer matters as long as you have a voice which is waiting to be heard. Has it ever occurred to you why thousands of people - both in the midst of adolescence and going through the life-changing years of adulthood - read blogs written by like-minded teenagers? Nobody cares about your age or even your gender as it may have been the case years ago because the words which flow through your fingertips matter the most, whilst also gaining a neat following of loyal readers who linger to lap up every single word like a pot of crème brûlée.

Since last autumn, I've been regularly posting entries onto my blog, Life as a Modern Teen, and have found out more about myself through the art of experimental writing. So far, I've discovered that social networking is a no-go network for me - unless New Zealand teen singer Lorde offered me a friend request, which I would accept within a heartbeat - and home schooling neatly suits the way I am, and I'm hoping to come across more subjects in the future as my opinions expand and age broadens my mind like a matured bottle of Waitrose-bought wine.

At the end of the day, the wishes waiting to be granted on top of my list include winning a struggling battle against spots, excelling in my chosen GCSE subjects (cue a disappointed frown at the fact of a journalism subject no longer existing) and leading a content life as a modern teenager without unrealistic stereotypes being thrown upon myself. As I've said before, I constantly make an effort to better myself and reach higher than I ever believed was possible to climb within reason - a trek upon Mount Kilimanjaro is not a possibility at the moment - but I'm more likely to receive a negative reaction from adults due to my age being somewhat of a barrier. And would you be surprised if the majority of teenagers agreed with me?

It's about time, now that we are well and truly in the flow of 2014, to destroy the barrier formed by the media and misinformed adults decades before Generation Y - a.k.a. the current legion of teenagers of which I'm a fully-fledged member - were even born.

And I, for one, am glad to be saying goodbye to it.

Getting to Know the Modern Teen

If only such a feature like waving my hand wildly was available to post here (depending on whether I, the self-titled ICT queen, have the ability to upload a particular shot on my blog) because there isn't a better way to get a freshly-written post to a brighter and more optimistic start than displaying one of my polite gestures. Well, I have made the message crystal-clear about my unique personality, have I not? Well, read on if you feel the undeniable urge to find out about today's theme.

Bearing in mind that I've been the voice of a modern teen since creating this blog back in late October - or the night of spook-tastic Halloween, if my still-vivid memories of the sugar-free day are correct - I don't think that I've offered you a strong insight into who I am as a person, including my interests, specific views and lifestyle.

No, no, no, I'm more of a person who prefers to shun the spotlight if placed upon my red-faced self because I instantly feel awkward and grimace as clumsily as Kristen Stewart managed to sigh her way through the entire Twilight Saga films, but being able to write in the comfort of my bedroom and Yankee Candle-scented home gives me a cake-shaped slice of confidence which encourages me to break away from my natural timidness and allow my voice to be heard for a little while.

So, please don't threaten to exit your web browser on the basis that I'm on the verge of bragging about my life and portraying myself as a teenager with whom you wouldn't wish to be acquainted - it is the very least of my intentions. That's the reason for which I haven't yet created an 'About Me' page because I wouldn't find much of a challenge in describing my on-going love affair with the final season of Desperate Housewives (like the dodgy door handle a few days ago, the DVD broke for the second time) instead of exploring views which are entirely my own; basically, running this blog is some sort of a long-term school project which I formed of my own accord, finally sick of reading badly-written articles by girls who certainly give grammar-excelling teenagers a wrong name. Even all of the texts I send are written in standard English and have remained so since I purchased my first mobile at the age of twelve - a smiley face is the nearest I'm willing to go towards text speak, whilst my mind would go blank if I was forced to figure out certain expressions like LMAO (which, according to Yahoo, means 'laughing my *** off'). Believe me, I stand a higher chance of translating an article in French than a single text by a typical slang-using teenager!

Anyway, I realize that not everybody has the much-envied time of the world (unlike a few students who are still having a lie-in during half-term) to spend reading about my life and passions, so down below features a list of questions relating to my interests and self-themed facts in a short-cut, straight-to-the-point manner. Whether you choose to acknowledge the fact or not, I have quite a few plans rolled up my sleeves this week, including the long-awaited down of my yet-to-be-delivered Apartment Life PC-rom, so let's get on with the LikeATeen show...


What is your name?
This one is highly awkward to admit because I've chosen to remain true to my original intention of keeping my real name a secret. Of course, my real name would be revealed if I happened to state the information of my self-published e-book - a secret of which I've been struggling to keep under wraps for months - so for now I'll refer to myself as Kitty because of my passion for cats and pile loads of money placed in, um, a kitty. If that makes any sense.

How old are you?
Unless I suddenly turn into an adult overnight, I doubt that this question is highly relevant, particularly as I'm still enduring daily battles against my erratic hormones, esteem-harming breakouts and an ever-increasing addiction to young adult novels. I'm a teenager which is all that matters, due to the alarmingly obvious title; there are still a couple of years until I morph into an adult so I'll probably be moaning about my oily forehead which is possibly capable of frying an egg for a good while yet.

Where do you live?
A town situated somewhere (whatever you may believe, I'm not giving directions!) in England, the country in which I was born and have always lived. If you are truly dying to the know, this town is available on Google Earth unlike a few places around the world I've searched for...

What do you do? 
That's simple as licking the remains of an oh-so-sweet apple pie: I'm educated at home by my teacher, otherwise known as my fantastic mum, and run this blog as a hobby. And I also dedicate myself to baking biscuits or cocoa-swirled marble cakes every other weekend, if you're interested in coming around for tea.

Do you have any siblings? 
I have one younger brother who is absolutely mad about Chelsea FC and has somewhat converted me to both the intriguing piano music featured in Minecraft and Jose Mourinho's way of thinking - whilst only becoming a teenager a few months ago!

What are your interests?
Besides embarking on a Scotland Yard-inspired search for the culprit of stuffing the whole bag of chocolate-dipped digestives on a near-daily basis, my interests include following in my mother's flour-dusted footsteps (a.k.a transforming myself into a cookery whiz), taking numerous pictures of my two lovely kittens and expressing myself creatively through the influential art of writing whenever I have a spare moment. In all honesty, I can be interested in a wide array of various subjects, from modern art to designer handbags to the newest X-Men film; my passions cannot be necessarily defined within a few words because I don't limit myself to one or two subjects, so I expand my fascinations when the need calls for it.

What do you like to write about? 
As my answer stated above, anything which interests me has a possibility of being a subject of my posts; over the past few weeks alone, I've displayed my admiration for women who continue to be a valuable source of inspiration whilst giving the low-down about my child-like passion for old-fashioned sweets, so literally everything goes. Ideally, I prefer to offer an insight into topics which are highly associated with teenagers because I'm in the fortunate position of stating how it truly feels to be placed in various situations, but this blog wasn't created on the basis of talking about teen-related issues all the time. Otherwise I would get bored very quickly - could there be anything worse than a bored writer?

Any favourite films, music or books which you wish to share with us?
On the oh-so-fun topic of films, I think that it's true to declare that 60s classic Breakfast at Tiffany's is definitely one of my all-time favourite films as Audrey Hepburn never looked better or inspired me with her dainty, yet elegant beauty. As I've been studying and living like a French for the past three years, I've completely fallen in love with French cinema and assassin thriller Nikita is no exception, along with Untouchable, Amelie and The Class. But would I truly be living up to the classification of a Modern Teen without developing an unwavering love for modern teen classics such as Mean Girls and Clueless? I rest my case.
As for music, I recently received a few CDs (yeah, I know that I'm taking a step towards the Stone Age by failing to purchase an iPod) for my birthday, one of which was Lorde's Pure Heroine, which I truly love. Until now, I never thought that I would be interested in indie music but, in comparison to the robotic beats dominating the charts nowadays, I much prefer it because the lyrics are just as important as the vocals - and Lorde perfectly fits the bill, along with Emeli Sande and Laura Mvula. Yet I love 80s soul and share a passion for jazz queen Sade like my mum does, but I cannot help but sing along to Madonna's tunes - the ones which were actually good, mind you!
And books? I may deem myself as the largest bookworm in the world, but I'm afraid to declare that I can't bring myself to choose just one book which sets my heartbeat racing and sends thrills of excitement down my spine. For now, I enjoy reading tales suited to adolescence with a dash of fantasy added to the mix - have you ever wondered why vampire novels are my guilty pleasure?

And what about those secret addictions of yours?
OK, you've got me - I just cannot hide it anymore! My addictions (well, they aren't too addictive) are playing The Sims, stuffing a liquorice allsort down my throat when nobody is glancing in my direction, applying creamy eyeliner every day and going wild with delight at the prospect of watching another episode of The Vampire Diaries on my malfunctioning DVD player. Do I have to admit anything else?

What are your plans for the future?
As everything I do now is crucial to being labelled as a success in the future, I'm trying to avoid placing any unnecessary pressure in the year leading towards taking exams because an agonizing headache is likely to be brought on.
Ideally, I'd love to study my favourite subjects (English, French, Law, etc) at A-Level before hopefully becoming a law apprentice and studying at the Bar - nothing fascinates me more heavily than Law, so I'm awfully keen to work in that sector. Also, I may become a journalist if I can become a Law apprentice because law correspondents are needed for both newspapers and televised news stations all the time, but anything is possible!

And finally... What are your tips for running a successful blog?
First of all, I'm not entirely sure whether to classify this blog as successful because I have not yet received a comment on any of my posts, but that needn't be discussed at this moment.
The key to running a blog and enjoying the experience is writing when you feel inspired and the moment is absolutely right. Don't stick to one familiar theme all the time unless you are certain that a passion for heavy make-up will forever remain a part of you, otherwise boredom is on the horizon.
Spread the word about the blog to everybody you know - friends and family are ideal options, but promoting within the endless realms of the internet helps, too - and never scrap by with poorly spelt words and bad grammar: you wouldn't want to make an enemy in me!

So, that is all you need to know about LikeATeen for now. Until next time...

Sweet, Sugary Half-Term Fun

Hi, I thought that I'd check up here as the new week - one of which includes a half-eaten box of Black Magic chocolates and an evil-eyed kitten staring intently at a pile of uncracked eggs a single leap away on the kitchen worktop - officially commences, as does the blissful seven days of pure relaxation, otherwise known as half-term.

Unless you are not familiar with the schooling system in the cloudy-as-ever UK (despite being home-educated, I still follow the wacky examples set out by the government and struggling curriculum, for that matter), there are typically three terms in every school year and so far I'm half-way through the second, jotting down French expressions at a moment's notice and participating in online Law-themed quizzes which, if a generous proportion of my acne-suffering peers suggests, would be deemed as quite an insult towards those who clearly have no intent to catch up with Law and Order any time soon. Overall, I take immense pride in studying and nothing brings me greater pleasure than passing an English test with flying colours (or whichever shades of my denim blue jeans happen to be caught on the Chelsea kit-stained colourcatcher), yet I feel pretty relieved to be spending a week dedicated to whatever I wish to do and writing about my views today certainly counts as one of my yet-unfulfilled wishes. 

Anyway, don't worry about having sit down to an essay-long post about Valentine's Day-related commercialism or the pile load of mineral foundation I coat onto my spotty face almost every morning as I have other ideas upon my tie-dye jumper's sleeve: thanks to my optimistic mood, I feel like discussing something which has a strong presence in my life and brings plenty of joy whenever used to my own advantage. In all honesty, this item is not something which I have on a near-daily basis, otherwise I would never find the courage to forgive myself for falling into the watchful gaze of temptation oh-too-easily - really, the twice-yearly trip to the dentist has all but sent ice-cold chills down my spine since I watched a hilarious, yet terrifying scene in the Little Shop of Horrors at the age of twelve. The thought of having something pulled out of my lipstick-coated mouth so horrifically usually provokes me to pull myself - and endless hunger - together within an instant, but I do find it difficult to walk past the cupboard without taking a peek inside at the contents and ultimately stealing one or two of my brother's beloved Jelly Babies from time to time. 

Maybe my nationality plays a huge role in my child-like passion for sweets - after all, I almost have to place my hand over my lips to prevent an excited squeal slipping out at the sight of 50s-style sweet jars sold in the local newsagents' - but in general I purely have a sweet, sugar-craving tooth which is never quite satisfied until the strongly-coveted duty has taken place, and I can return to Planet Earth without the fear of losing control at the non-existence liquorice allsorts all but consuming my entire attention. Also, teenagers fall harder than a crumbling cliff when it comes to forming a relationship with anything - from going out with that first boyfriend to becoming a semi-permanent resident at a ginormous Forever 21, we are capable of going one step further whilst passion races through our veins because of our endless energy keeping ourselves up and running. 

People of an older age may not be bothered about carrying out a tiresome search for the purple gown you added to your wishlist a year in advance of the upcoming prom, but you - and many others, including myself - won't even dare to think about stopping for a single moment until the mission is finally completed. That's exactly the relationship which I've built with a bag of fruity jelly babies or liquorice twists over the years ago; although I only pick up a bag as an occasional treat every few months or so, it doesn't make a slight dent towards my enjoyment of the mind-blowing flavours which dance like a salsa-jiving Zumba class on the tip of my tongue for one perfect moment. Basically, nothing makes me happier than the short-lived moments I spend with a bag of sweets, and it is all I think about - when Bart the Kitten isn't providing an annoying distraction within the realms of his shredded litter tray - until the final sweet has been swallowed. 

Sure, I might be giving a false impression of being a sugar addict, but I purely appreciate sweets whilst they somehow manage to last a few days on the cupboard shelf; realizing that my brother shares a similarity to a Dyson hoover, it truly is a wonder that anything remotely sweet remains untouched for any longer than the 90 minute-long duration of a football match. But that's just me, I suppose. 

Down below are a couple of reviews describing various sweets I've tried over the years (a few of which may only be available on England), so be warned: not everything lying on a shelf in the confectionary aisle at the shops is guaranteed to achieve the sugar-induced level of happiness which us moody teenagers are constantly seeking. Or, in my case, made me feel a million times worse... 

Liquorice Allsorts: Despite 'liquor' being featured in the name, I can happily assure that these sweets are definitely alcohol-free - otherwise your parents would probably want the whole bag to themselves! 

In a short description, liquorice allsorts are a basic mixture of colourful sweets, the colours of which range from snow-white to punk-inspired pink, though the liquorice - minus the added sugar and hint of cocoa - is supposedly healthy for oneself as a natural treatment. Hence the reason for which I usually turn towards a bag of oh-so-sugary liquorice allsorts whenever a runny nose or sore throat sneaks upon me during the middle of a bitterly cold winter; you see, I make an effort to time the rare occasions I appreciate junk food! 

Why I love them so much, I really couldn't tell you, but I guess that I like them so greatly is that my maternal grandmother shared a fondness for them as well, so every single sweet I plonk into my mouth (which, by the way, isn't many because I seriously have no desire to let my teeth rot in a liquorice-coated hell) is a sort of tribute towards her memory. 

Also, one of the greatest things about liquorice allsorts - the description is truly in the name, if you haven't already noticed - is that every single one is different, so sticking your hand into a bag and finding a different variety never becomes boring at all! Unless I come across those liquorice-free blue or pink sweets...

Jelly Babies: I just typed in 'jelly babies' on Google and discovered that they are indeed sold in America via shopping haven Amazon, so hopefully any Americans wandering through this blog may be familiar with this famous British sweet. 

Since falling in love with these at a young age, I've always remained loyal towards the coloured gelatine-filled jelly babies, all of which come in a variety of different colours. Personally, my favourite is the half-blackcurrant, half-black sweet because I'm naturally attracted towards goth-inspired colours like a shoe-buying addict to a Christian Louboutin store, but all of the flavours - from green to yellow to the cute little pink baby - taste delicious, regardless of the naturally flavoured colours. 

Unlike the liquorice allsorts above - some of which contain a bit of fat due to the usage of dessicated coconut - these jelly babies are completely fat-free, but this fact doesn't give me permission to chunk the whole contents down my throat within one serving! A couple at a time is the perfect serving and permits me to take one or two from the bag directly a while later; a trick which my jelly baby-adoring brother hasn't quite realized yet... 

If I had to choose between liquorice allsorts and jelly babies, I would truly struggle to pick my ultimate favourite because both are special in various ways. Personally, I lean slightly more towards jelly babies as I can still faintly remember having them during childhood, whilst I've only grown to appreciate liquorice allsorts within recent years. But I'd still have both if the option was available!

Milk Bottles: Of late, I haven't really had any of these glass-free bottles due to the sharp rise of this product in recent years, so I'm purely depending on my then-loving taste during childhood, where a couple of milk bottles were standard within a bag of Haribos from time to time. 

Although I still drink two glasses of it every day, milk has never stood out as a favourite drink of mine, but I've always liked these milk bottles because they manage to replicate a milky flavour without using any real milk - just how would that be possible? 

Squidgy and creamy in texture, I love milk bottles because they look like healthier sweets but, as you well know, looks can be extremely deceiving! Now that I'm talking about it, I hope to be able to purchase a small bag of these within the near future as I'm literally dying to revisit the vanilla flavours which I know so well; some things never change, huh?

Cola Bottles: For the sugary goodness which I miss out on my occasionally-consumed cans of caffeine-free Diet coke, I certainly make up for it with these sweets which, as the name rightfully suggest, are presented in the dainty form of Coca Cola-inspired bottles.
A reason for which I fondly enjoy a couple of cola bottles is that they are remarkably plainish in flavour, a trait which I commonly prefer as I don't always wish to be overwhelmed with a powerful sweetness - plenty of people must agree, otherwise cola bottles wouldn't be more popular than ever!
And, unless the secret has not yet been revealed to you, those who take their time whilst eating stand a higher chance of keeping their weight stable. Considering that it takes me half an hour to chew my way into a single cola bottle, I think that I'm doing fine as it is...

And the treats which I don't find so sweet...

Toffee: One word defines my life-long hatred of toffee for which, despite the vast amount of Quality Street chocolates being handed over to me over the ages, I've never developed a sticky-toothed passion: disgusting.
If the thought of having your teeth literally stuck together for ages doesn't revolt you, toffee is just right up your alley - and couldn't possibly be further from mine! I would have to lose all sense of myself to fall in love with the stickiness which typically comes within a wrapped rectangle as the scent of it brings me an unpleasant wave of nausea, so you needn't question why I regularly argue with my sticky-lipped brother.
As I usually get confused between the two, I also count fudge as a treat which is way too sweet for my liking - since overindulging on one too many Cadbury's Fudge bars a few Christmases ago, I have never felt the same way about them since. Eat at your peril!

Cough candy: Why this was called candy, I truly don't know; until I took one whiff of the bag on an occasion where I was ironically suffering from a cough, I had never realized that herbs were the main ingredients within these so-called 'treats'.
Cue a sick feeling spreading all over me and a desire to chuck my breakfast out of the window - I had never felt more unwell in my entire life until I tried a cough candy, which ultimately found its way into the dusty realms of the kitchen bin.
To my horror, both my dad and brother started to chew on these solid sweets - which look rather like sherbets, minus the tangling flavour and desired sweetness - all the time and I couldn't bear to stand in the same room as them, unless they didn't mind the sight of my heaving at the horrid stench and a paleness like never before turning my face the shade of Casper the Ghost.
Just don't eat these unless you are capable of eating literally anything on this planet; even writing about cough candy is bringing back terrible memories of illness, so I'm going to stop before the first round of nausea arrives.


And so, you can pretty much tell that I, the health fanatic teenager, has an undeniable penchant for all things sugary. From liquorice allsorts to milk bottles, I crave different varieties of sweets for various reasons and will probably continue to adore them for the rest of my life, if old-fashioned traditions remain true.

Right now, a yet-unfinished bag of sweets is calling my name (or so I wish to believe) and I don't particularly wish to ignore it any longer!

Looking for the True Meaning of Valentine's Day

Has the thought of time flying by without being noticed ever occurred to you? As I swallow an overwhelming sweet green triangle from my brother's box of Quality Street (later on, guilt is destined to creep upon me as I broke all my oh-so-rigorous rules against eating sweets before lunchtime), it seems strange that the loveliest day of the year - the one dedicated to Saint Valentine - has sprung upon the lovestruck universe once again, bringing thousands of poppy-red envelopes and mass-produced teddy bears in its wake.

Don't get me wrong, if I had a lover or admirer of some sorts, I'd probably be easily swept into the excitement surrounding this one special day, especially if a box of luxurious dark chocolates were part of the deal. Yeah, I really can't get through an occasion or particular holiday without placing my thoughts towards the endless array of chocolates decorating the shelves at the supermarket, can I? But one thing which I will disclose to any future, ahem, lovebirds (not even my new thesaurus can clarify a fitting word for this description) is that chocolates, a romantic poem and a peek inside your inner soul brings a girl to her knees, experiencing the liveliest sentiment of love throbbing in her won-over heart. At least it should be easier nowadays thanks to being able to access websites dedicated to Valentine's Day-themed poems and guides as to what your true love may squeal with heartfelt delight when opened on the day itself; if Siri on your iPhone can think of everything for you, what is there not to like about Valentine's Day?

Anyway, I guess that I shouldn't feel the need to rush outdoors into the inevitable storm brewing in the castover garden and embark on a life-changing search for a boyfriend - I'm only a teenager at the end of the day, though it would be pretty hard to forget the oh-so-obvious title of this blog unless you chucked your reading glasses underneath your bed or something. My spirits were lifted higher than a trip on an air balloon when my parents gave me a box of Black Magic chocolates as a Valentine's Day gift earlier this morning, and I should know after chucking an Almond Crunch into my mouth five minutes later - you couldn't get closer to a mid-morning pick-me-up than a square of chocolate-induced heaven hitting the tip of your awaiting tongue!

Beneath the overdone layer of nude eye shadow and bulletproof taupe eyeliner, I simply feel awkward about celebrating Valentine's Day because it doesn't stand out as a day which is associated with myself, unless it validates an excuse to pick up a copy of Goodfellas due to it being placed in the romantic films section at the local store (which, by the way, isn't an action which my law-studying self can legally do as I'm under the age of eighteen). Sure, I gain a phenomenal amount of pleasure by reading novels about a supposedly plain teenage girl falling in love with the most handsome boy on the planet because it offers me the opportunity to escape from the cloudy realms of reality, yet I can never quite bring myself to relate entirely with the characters - if the boy is truly a heavenly hunk, why hasn't he been snapped up by Storm Model Management or a Calvin Klein campaign yet? You see, some magical spells placed over an engaged reader are broken like a glass bottle of Coca Cola if I get my hands upon them - I instantly compare plots to reality and often immerse myself in disappointment as soon as it becomes clear that real life just is not the same like a wonderful, ideally-set book.

And that's exactly the way I view Valentine's Day; people constantly make a huge song and dance (rather like the cast of Glee, if you've ever caught a minute or two during commercial breaks) about living up the expectations associated with making 14th February a day to remember for a lifetime, but what is truly defined as perfect when love enters the equation? When the subject of Valentine's Day pops into my head like an unignorable desire to purchase a satchel handbag, I instantly think of romantic meals, cards from secret admirers and extravagant gifts packaged in a whale-sized bag. Typical ideas, don't you think? And it doesn't matter about your age or your feelings towards heated passion, but everybody - from card manufacturers to cash-making shops to even a romance-obsessed media, if the constant discussion of celebrities' love lives on The Huffington Post is anything to go by - will make a ruthless attempt to shove pink-frosted cupcakes or reduced straight-to-DVD love-themed films down your throat. Literally. In simpler words, I find that Valentine's Day is one large advertisement to companies who are desperate to reach out to potential customers - without even displaying an ounce of shame for it!

So, doesn't it clear up my feelings like a flawless Dyson hoover relating to my views about Valentine's Day? Yeah, it would make quite a lot of sense if one fell into the tight clutches of awkwardness because they refuse to play into the hands of retailers and commercialism, which I believe has had an enormous affect over how the world functions today - in both good and bad ways. I would probably have to have a heart of rock-solid stone if I didn't smile at the welcoming sight of a fluffy teddy bear with a decorated red ribbon; some passions shouldn't be ignored in order to remain true to certain beliefs, especially if a cuddly toy (which I may find hugely embarrassing in years' to come) is in question. Those acknowledging Valentine's Day ought to offer gifts representing their love for one another and sometimes a box of chocolates or a heart-themed mug simply expresses love better than words - nobody can dismiss an affectionate gesture if performed with the greatest intentions, and I certainly wouldn't have the power to do so if a treat is within a ten-mile radius!

What annoys me the most is when people pick up something entirely out of their usual shopping habits on the basis that it related to Valentine's Day - do they honestly like the product or is it an a rather pawtry excuse to squander money for the pure sake or it? Anyway, I think that those who know the true meaning or love - and fully appreciate the occasion - wisely stay clear of those marketing traps, which only adds more spending money towards shops highly intent on draining one of all their pennies.

And after letting off some heated steam, I can fully enjoy the rest of the day ahead of me, with some dark chocolates awaiting to open sometime later; one day, it is likely that I could forget all my views surrounding commercialism as I fall in love madly and am drawn to a pink bubble bath or something similarly unnecessary, but for now I'll bear the true meaning of St Valentine's Day.

Until the next one!

Make-up and Me: My Cosmetics Rituals

Hey, the sun may not be shining and I can definitely sense the hairs on my back standing up thanks to the large draft in my window (am I ever so lucky to be writing in the bedroom most affected by the 30mph winds?), but my feel-good mood is as strong as ever this afternoon and so I only wish to spread the storm-free joy by discussing the beauty must-haves which have significantly changed my life. Forever. Yeah, I really have no desire of bringing up the not-so-pleasant conversation over whether I'll still be donning black cherry eyeliner in seventy or so years time, but right now couldn't offer me a better opportunity than to try my hand at a spectacular array of products, lifesavers and, as your bubblegum pink lips are bursting to tell me, all of the colours on a rainbow. Talking of which, I wouldn't really be surprised if my purple-lidded eyes caught sight of a rainbow any time soon thanks to the non-stop rain pounding against the window, but the mood-dampening topic of storms can be nicely pushed aside for a while...

Face

Ah yes, where would anyone be able to start in the oh-so-wonderful land of make-up with sorting out their faces? From complexion-smoothing foundations to oil-controlling primers to life-saving concealers (let's admit it; all of us have resorted to using these once or twice within a spot-tastic lifetime), it is no wonder that the beauty counters are bursting with hundreds of goodies which claim to revolutionize our make-up bags.

Believe me, I may proudly proclaim myself as a hard cookie (though I have a natural preference for the softer, deliciously chewy variety), but I probably wouldn't have been staying true to myself if I didn't almost fall into the tight clutches of products which give potential consumers the promises that they want to hear from time to time.

Like any fashion-obsessed girl, one of my main three wishes included a complexion to rival a self-titled beauty queen as I felt so insecure about my own. Without heading into blemish-prone territory, I had a million and one problems relating to my spots and so it was basically my MI5-inspired mission to place the very best products - from oil-reducing scrubs to fairly natural foundation - onto my face, otherwise World War II probably would've broken out across the easily-angered kingdom otherwise known as myself by now.

Eventually, as you'll realize with the list of fabulous products I've noted down below, I found my king in armour via a jar of mineral powder and numerous beauty sets purchased by none other than my mum, who completely understands my current rush of hormonal, blemish-splattered problems. In my opinion, the products which I apply several times a week onto my face are suited rather well to sensitive skin which, if you had ever been an unfortunate witness to my breakouts in the past, is the type which I currently have, so please don't bombard me with hate-fuelled letters should a problem arise!

Foundation: Bare Minerals Original SPF15 Foundation, £22.05, qvcuk.com
Did you just spit your sip of Diet Coke all over the floor or what?! OK, the price tag may send alarm bells ringing - just like that dreadful moment when you realize that the supermarket has run out of your favourite Ben and Jerry's ice cream - but please believe me when I say that it works like a dream, covering blemishes easily and turning your complexion into one which an international star would envy!
Anyway, the whole of Bare Mineral's range - the corporation of which remains true to nature and promises to use the most natural products available on this planet - offers a fabulous selection of great products, many of which I've tried in the past and have fallen in love with. Yet I doubt that the brand would be where it is today if it were not for the foundation which, despite its grainy-looking texture and powdery appearance, glides onto your skin easily by using the Full Flawless Face Brush from the range (£21, qvcuk.com), which prevents your face looking unpleasantly caked - a look which everyone wishes to avoid at all costs!
As many would find with foundations, it does take a while to get used to using this mineral powder, especially as it was the very first foundation of any kind that I had personally used, so I needn't be reminded of the ghastly looks I unintentionally created during my first few attempts! Plus, I always felt the need to apply some blush (Compassion, £19, is the nearest I can find to the shade I use which was obtained in a limited edition set) due to having a near-porcelain complexion, unless I had a strange urge to resemble Casper the ghost's girlfriend for Halloween or something; just one of the few pitfalls of not using bronzer.
On the subject of skin tones, I use the lightest shade available which is called Fair, but you should easily find the one best suited to your own by accessing a colour chart which offers the helpful features of models who should remotely resemble your skin colour. Until last year, I'd stuck to Fairly Light though I only truly saw the light - and brighter results - once I swapped to Fair, but you may be taken aback by the colour which would look the best on you. Trust me!
As my skin glows like never before - courtesy of the minerals which promise to not only make your skin look worthy of a Hollywood scarlet, but to nourish it - I hope that you'll see what I'm talking about by giving the whole Bare Minerals range a go. And like the saying goes, you truly pay for what you get - you only need to look at my face to realize it!

Concealer: Bare Minerals SPF20 Concealer, £19, www.bareminerals.co.uk
Unlike the foundation which has become somewhat of my everyday beauty staple, the need to apply concealer only arises on a rare occasion where nobody on this planet should see my spots, highlighting the problematic area like a glowing stick for the world to witness. And this concealer by the wonderful Bare Minerals (the only make-up brand which I feel confident to use on my face and disaster zones) simply does the job by covering the troublesome spots brilliantly and soothing my fears over a person with remarkably clear eyesight catching a glimpse of it in the light, all within a tinier-than-you'd-expect jar.
Before using it, I wasn't aware of the highly well-known fact that you needn't apply mountain-high amounts of it due to a miniscule amount being needed, so you can only imagine my cake-tastic appearance afterwards - and bronzed glow radiating from my skin! My only slight criticism is that I wish a lighter shade could be available because the current colour closely suited to my porcelain tone does look rather dark, and it definitely shows if I accidently apply one grain too many; resembling an over-tanned member of The Only Way is Essex cast couldn't be further away from my desired appearance!
Anyway, I always know that I can rely upon the Bare Minerals range as both the public and the beauty industry - one of which has been famously renowned for the worrying usage of dangerous preservations and cancer-associated parabens - appreciate its natural style, which defines the person I am within a single sweep of pure concealer. Perhaps it works a little too well if I no longer have enough spots to hide - thankfully!

Eyes 

Eyes, eyes, eyes... Don't they just define beauty a whole lot better than any other area on our faces? Ever since I received a free eyeliner in a fashion magazine at the age of eleven, I've always loved applying cosmetics around this area because one can truly transform their style within the stroke of a pen or sweep of a shimmery eye shadow. Although my eyes are easily defined on a daily basis, I still doubt that I stand any possibility of gaining a career as a make-up artist out of my five-minute schedule of cosmetics fun in the eerily bright morning - looking back at my recently-taken pictures of messily-applied liquid eyeliner confirms the oh-so-real truth! Still, I love my eyes nonetheless and always feel ready to face the day once this special area has been made up, adding a hidden strength to my tasks du jour like nothing else can...

Eyeliner: Mally 10 Piece Starlight Eyeliner Collection, £35.52, qvcuk.com
Despite only receiving the eye-popping collection less than a fortnight ago, it needn't be said twice that I've absolutely fallen in love with the dazzling array of colours, which range from a lid-enhancing pearly pink to a classic jet-black - exactly what an eyeliner-loving teenager like myself had in mind!
As I'd felt relatively drawn towards darker shades since I first started to experiment with make-up, this collection - eight of which feature nighttime-suited colours, minus the two used as highlighters - instantly stood out towards me, plus the formula by this American brand attracted me because it is strongly declared as bulletproof. And as I struggle to take the make-up off my lids in the evening, I've truly discovered the meaning of the word! Another positive about the eyeliners is that they are self-sharpening, which have certainly put my tedious days of breaking kohl eyeliners to an end; the soft creaminess also prevents you tugging harshly against the tender skin, a problem of which I've commonly experienced with cheaper, wider known brands in the past.
For those of you who are not familiar with Mally, let me explain; Mally was created by the famous make-up artist Mally Roncal, who lives and works in her native New York. From Jennifer Lopez to Beyonce, Mally has worked with numerous famous stars and is now focusing on her brand, which has won countless awards for its long-lasting formula along with a loyal legion of consumers across the world. Having since given these eyeliners a go, I'm proud to say that I've become a Mally fan as I've never used any eyeliners like hers - and why should I try any others now that I've found the ones which previously only resided in my dreams? Personal favourites within the collection include Smoky Taupe (a taupey brown which smudges like a smoky dream), Midnight (a timeless chic black), Starshine (a dazzling silver) and Black Cherry, a subtle purple which I've applied onto my eyelids today.
I feel immensely glad that I bought these eyeliners because right now I would've definitely regretted it as I already couldn't imagine living without them - like eyeliners themselves!

Mascara: Bare Minerals Flawless Definition Mascara, £17, www.bareminerals.co.uk
Once again, Bare Minerals come to rescue where make-up asks a gaping question: how do I find a mascara which guarantees long-lasting results without sacrificing on natural, allergy-free ingredients? Needless to say, I headed towards my mineral-loving friends and have never looked back, extending the length of my medium-length lashes as of when the need for it arises.
Personally, I don't use mascara every day because I already wear eyeliner all the time, so usually it's either one or the other unless a special occasion comes up, but this doesn't mean that I'm willing use to use any cheap brand - I couldn't be further from the truth! At least I'm never faced with the possibility of being knocked out from an additive-addled formula whenever I open the Bare Minerals mascara as, despite its similar appearance to fellow not-so-natural rival brands, it still remains as natural and true to nature as one could hope for one of make-up's most chemically-associated product - has anyone truly considered the commonly-found risks in the usage of Revitalash yet?
Within one brush, my eyelashes look longer and strongly resemble a pair of false eyelashes which you can buy in a beauty shop - without running the risk of getting an allergic reaction from the foul-stenched glue! OK, I haven't always been entirely natural when it comes to mascara as I couldn't resist trying a free Benefits mascara as a magazine freebie once, but the results never pleased me as much as the Flawless Definition one by Bare Minerals.
Sure, mascara might not be on top of my desperately-needed beauty products, but it definitely serves its purposes when needed - and Bare Minerals counts all of the boxes whilst avoiding the need to sacrifice on naturally good quality!

Lips

There is only one single word which defines my love of lips, which exaggerate my naturally plump smackeroonies (sorry, the online thesaurus didn't offer any better suggestions) and add a pop of uplifting colour: lipstick.
Erase all memories of gloopy lip gloss and recently-washed hair sticking to my glued-tight lips onto a windy day; only lipstick deserves a place in my prestigious Beauty Wall of Frame, standing beside eyeliner, mineral foundation and a light covering of cheek-enhancing blush like the Oscar winner it truly is.
If it wasn't for my lips, I question whether I would have ever displayed any kind of interest in make-up at all because it was where all of it started when I purchased my very first collection of lip glosses - which, as you correctly predicted, were produced by Bare Minerals - at the age of eleven, receiving the very best introduction to cosmetics as one could ever hope.
Unlike the other formulas I was unfortunately destined to try (and later chuck into my ancient Bratz-themed bin), the Bare Mineral glosses were moisturizing and never felt sticky, purely keeping my lips in check with a hint of oh-so-natural colour. Literally, that summer was all but defined by those lip glosses as I applied them in inch-thick layers every single day until I reached the end of the bottles and eventually threw them away, which signalled my still-lost of interest in lip glosses as I moved further towards lipstick.
OK, my very first experience with lip sticks may be one which I'd prefer not to remember (the so-called 'natural' ones I picked up in Boots were a pain to apply onto my lips because almost no colour came out; even a rock-solid lollypop was deemed softer than those cheap lipsticks), but it didn't take any time until I'd settled upon a brand which offered my desired look without breaking the bank: Rimmel London.
As I write this down, even I question the reasons for which I'm more fascinated in saving my pennies towards my regular usage of lipstick than making a sacrifice or two relating to my fairly expensive foundation or concealer, both of which are certainly at least £10 too much for a plain majority of people.
Unlike the tiny amounts of foundation and concealer I apply onto my face once or twice a week, I use varying shades of lipstick every day without thinking twice about it and, frankly, my lips are not as sensitive as the rest of my face, which has a tendency to break out ever so easily. Besides, why should I spend £20 or more for a self-proclaimed 'decent' lipstick by a designer brand if I can still obtain the same results with a cheaper item? What with the amount of products I've tried over the years, I've learnt the ability to sense cheap ingredients within a five-mile radius - and I couldn't appreciate make-up more than ever!
Unsurprisingly, I do use lipsticks by other brands from time to time, such as Maybelline Colour Sensational in Sweet Pink, which has so far been the only nude pink best suited to a porcelain skin tone (today's shade, if you wish to know), and I've happily taken to the creamy texture of ybf's range of lipsticks, two of which I received in a discontinued collection around a year ago. But mainly I stick to Rimmel because I know where I stand with them - long-lasting results, fabulous colour and moisturized lips. The praise is endless!
Also, I love nothing more than playing with lip colour as it truly gives me pile loads of rainbow-paletted joy - who can deny the rush of pleasure racing through your veins at the sight of your bright smile in a mirror? Of late, I've been wearing an eye-popping red shade from the Kate Moss collection at Rimmel, giving me a Parisian-inspired look which a French-learning speaker like myself rather appreciates!
From the dark plums commonly worn by teen singer Lorde to au naturel nudes, lipstick truly is fun to wear and that's why I always need more of it - at a pocket-friendly price!

So, that is all I can say about my beauty-related passions; whether I'm in the mood to go as natural as possible by donning a layer of frosty pink lipstick and a slick of black mascara or release my inner beauty queen via dark eyeliner and enviable foundation, I think that I've got it covered with make-up. And hey, don't we all have our little beauty secrets?

Curing Spots and Tedious Moods - A Dream Come True!

Since I set up this blog late last October, I have proclaimed my dislike and sadness over angry-looking, redder-than-my-runny-nose spots on a near-regular business, as of when a bout of teenage blues has swept me off my slipper-clad feet. 

Basically, I've been fighting a losing battle against mild acne - or so I wish to call it because the search engine Google seems to agree with my depressing dilemma - since my very spot was squeezed at the age of eight, fretting over the monstrous sight of large spots bumpier than a pot hole-infested road spreading across the tedious T-\zone and failing to find that all-important cure which would hopefully make my blemish-related problems disappear into a smooth, healthy complexion. 

I know that almost all teenagers go through the same situation to a less or greater extent during puberty - of course, my dermatology-obsessed self ought to realize that since coming across a survey revealing that only 15% or less of teens get away from the harmful perils of acne scot-free - but nothing can take away the agony which we face whenever we casually roll out of bed and are horrified by a dozen of newly-planted spots assuming control over your once-handsome face? Sure, I may still get up extra-early before the sun rises to get ready for lessons almost every morning, yet this practice doesn't lessen my horror as I catch a darkened glimpse of my red-faced complexion in the bathroom; even as I cleanse my face with water, my cloth-protected fingers are still able to feel the bumpiness of the inflamed skin, rather like trekking upon a mountain with tons of solid, uneven rocks in a pair of flat-soled Converse. 

Regardless of what my eyes may see, instinct still knows that the problem continues to persist like an relentless backache or constant screening of a yawnful football match on TV, and for ages I've been feeling a whole lot worse about it because everything I do to help and sooth the infection is always incapable of being sorted out. Until a while ago, frustration had all but become a constant role in my everyday life as my mild acne - which had set up home on my chin and mouth, having moved out of my now lump-free forehead months before - seemingly worsened, despite my attempts to come across the magical cure which only existed within my wildest (and spot-free) dreams. 

Last summer, desperation had a tighter grip than ever before as I resorted to the unknown diet of giving up cows' milk in favour of a dairy-free option, in the hope of giving my skin a break from the supposedly high amount of female hormones found in a typical glass of calcium-rich milk. Perhaps I should've waited until the usual heat surrounding a sweltering summer's day had come to a relievable end before giving up cows' milk because, in hindsight, my skin always had a tendency to worsen during higher temperatures due to the excessive amount of oil being produced - yet this five week-long experiment led to no improvements and I was reintroduced to cows' milk without any problems, though I cannot entirely regret the failed attempt as almond milk has since become a firm favourite of mine (if the hefty price tag doesn't produce a gasp of shock from my lips, that is). 

Shortly afterwards, I swapped my original skincare brand - tea tree-oil based Australian Bodycare (ABC) - to Witch, on the basis of the fairly successful results I had achieved with the witch hazel stick which managed to dry out and stabilize the condition of my skin to certain extent for several years. For a while, I began to feel more positive about my skin as it appeared to calm down (as did my torrentous moods, which were partly associated with my spotty issues) and the mild acne gave the impression of settling down, but it quickly became clear that my skin wasn't getting any better as I placed my hopes upon. Again. 

Although thousands of questions may be swirling like a stick of candyfloss inside your mind, I reckon that you're dying to ask whether I ever made an appointment with a doctor to reach some sort of conclusion with the matter because it certainly was spiralling out of my control, declaring all of my hard-worked efforts a complete waste of time. The answer? No, I never even contemplated about visiting the local doctors' surgery as it was fairly simple to predict the oh-so-heavenly-cure - I'd be handed a box of acne-suppressing drugs or placed onto a course of antibiotics, along with a hefty bill for my 'life-changing' treatment. 

Really, I needn't have thought twice about it because it simply wasn't an option for me; in recent months, so-called 'revolutionizing' acne drugs have been linked to depression amongst teenagers and, in the most dreadful cases, the taking of one's life. Considering that I had a tendency to sink into the gloomy realms of spot-related blues, using a drug which could have potentially accelerated my moodiness wasn't a risk that I was willing to take; plus, the ingredients have been commonly linked to the weakening of one's immune system, opening a whole can of worms which could affect one's health for a lifetime. So, would I truly fancy an unpleasant trip to a doctor and a prescription to illness-related acne drugs? No thanks!

Just like my usage of mineral make-up, I intended to remain loyal to the most natural remedies available on the market which, to my disappointment, were only loaded with the complete opposite of what I'd been looking for - a 'miracle' facial scrub with a nationwide TV campaign, anyone? From the contents of a packet of artificial-free rice to the colourings used in my favourite lipstick, I'm obsessed with ingredients in basically anything I can get my hands on and skin care suited to my oiler-than-a-deep-fried-doughnut skin was no acception! But I was only faced with more feelings of disappointment as my 24/7 search on natural, blemish-reducing products didn't result into anything, sadness hitting me a vicious wave almost all the time. As everybody else I saw carried on leading their lives without a hint of a red mark putting a damper on their happiness, I grew unhappier with my complexion, which greatly affected the confidence I had left after going through hell and back during my agonizing years as an acne-suffering teenager. 

That is until my mum - ever so quick with finding helpful results on the internet - made a remarkable discovery one evening last week, introducing two familiar ingredients into my life who have quickly become trustworthy friends. Of course, many of you may not even offer the informal title of a pal towards ingredients which you regularly consume - I should know as I talk about both of them all the time - but since trying them out on my face seven days ago, my mild acne has all but faded into smaller, less angrier marks and given me what I'd set my hopes upon for years: myself. 

Yes, I've enjoyed myself and have experienced the uplifting joys of being immersed in happiness, yet deep down every single spot - whether it had been painfully squeezed and given the opportunity to fade away or still persisted - had left a semi-permanent mark within myself because I could never run away from the problem lying beneath my lumpy and ugly-looking complexion. You see why teenagers struggle to contain their emotions and stay as sane as possible on a daily basis? Alongside dealing with the unavoidable hassles of growing up and being given pile loads of responsibilities at once, falling prey to acne doesn't help us one little bit, so I truly believe that our generation ought to be given some slack when it comes to coping with difficulties on both the outside and, most importantly, the inside. 

Since my skin has given spectacular hints at clearing up for good, not a single thing can wipe away the ecstatic smile tugging away on my lips - rather like getting an A+ in an English essay, I feel utterly elated! If only people were willing to accept the emotional trauma which comes with years of acne problems, as it is something which needs to be understood on a higher level; although I wouldn't classify myself as undeniably vain (unless an unwashed mane of greasy locks are in question), my heart would break into tiny pieces at the sight of a face which I couldn't associate with my own. It seemed wrong that my skin was turning against me and failing to respond to the numerous treatments - from giving up cows' milk to swapping brands, I've done it all - I'd tried, so now part of myself cannot quite believe the wonderful spectacle of smooth skin radiating in front of my bedazzled eyes. A dream come true? I certainly think so!

So, I'm probably correct in guessing that you are bursting with impatience to find out my oh-so-fabulous secret to gaining the skin of your dreams, am I not? OK, I won't keep you in agony for a moment longer as I'm also dying to unveil my life-changing discovery, especially as I only wish to spread the joys of an acne-free teenage life! My little secret? Use a teaspoon each of good-quality honey and ground cinnamon into a little bowl, stir together thoroughly then apply onto your face for ten minutes before rinsing it off. 'Simple' is likely to be the first word to spring to mind, so I believe, and it honestly is! Not only does honey help inflamed skin, it helps to keep it moisturized whilst the cinnamon is a match made-in-heaven - believe me, you couldn't possibly find a more natural alternative which would offer the same desired results!

As I reach the end of writing this post, I feel a lot happier than I did over an hour ago. Having discussed and put away my spotty problems for once and for all, now I'm truly able to appreciate life for what it stands without an unwanted blemish preventing me from having a great time. Acne? That was so last week!

Obsessed: The Things Captivating a Teenager

Am I crazy or what, my logical voice asks when I gaze happily at a not-so-cheap handbag online, unleashing a sigh tinged with bitter sadness. I mean, do I honestly have a major problem when it comes to falling head over heels for something like there is no tomorrow? Sometimes, hormones spiralling out of control (which, however much I wish to avoid the unpleasant truth standing right before me, happens all the time) is usually the main reason for which I spend hours upon hours beginning a doomed love affair with an item which only a wealthy bank account could afford - a dilemma, along with my sweetly flavoured addiction to cocoa, in need of being solved.

From birth, everybody is destined to stumble across their strengths and weaknesses like a Weightwatchers member supposedly walking into a McDonald's by accident, but we typically only stress attention over the things which we are capable of performing to the most elite level; in quite a stark similarity to shoving an unwanted itchy jumper into the unknown realms of a wardrobe, our weaknesses are all but ignored because, unless you feel as mighty as Superman clad in a pair of pants remarkably smaller than Speedos, we feel too weak to face the problem lying in front of our faces. You see, it's an endless situation which sees absolutely no way of discovering a potential end - and that is exactly the case with my penchant for handbags and numerous other goodies on the internet and in store, temptation closing in on me like a bar of high quality chocolate dancing before my glittering eyes. I told you that I was crazy, right?

From a pricey Dior bag to valuable gold hoops to even the eighth and final season of Desperate Housewives on DVD (this one needn't count as extreme because I already experienced problems with two previous copies, so my desire to reach the oh-so-sad ending is becoming an unignorable itch), my heart yearns to add all of these wonderful items into my relatively long list of possessions, though deep down I just know that I stand a measly slim chance of receiving a raise of a grand in my weekly pocket money - so much for going on a lavish spending spree in Harrods any time soon! Dreaming of carrying a bag which would even provoke a smile to tug at Victoria Beckham's wrinkle-free lips is fantasy of mine that stands no possibility of morphing into a perfect, Dior-filled reality - yet despite facing up to the truth and describing it in quite a frank manner, I cannot fully switch off my powerful yearning for an enviable designer item. Like stumbling through the dark in search of the light switch, almost everything is easier said than done and, regardless of how humorous it may appear to maintain my exhausting obsession with a classically styled bag, I can add that valuable bag to my ever-growing list of Nice, but Income-Draining items.

If you believed that an accessory from the latest Parisian collections was enough to grab my attention faster than the heavenly sight of tortilla-style crisps, I'm proud to inform you that your beliefs are as wrong as Premier League footballer's fang-bearing habits. Ready to embark into the unknown of a teenager's hefty number of obsessions? Read on...

1) Earrings: From small, dazzling studs to plain gold-coloured hoops (believe me, I'm not made of money; Forever 21 will have to do until a trip to Tiffany's beckons) which add a desirable effect of understated cool, I absolutely love earrings and have adored them so since I got my first ear piercing at the age of eight, the occasion of which I still remember rather heavily. Sure, I might have nearly collapsed onto the floor in shock as the studs pierced through my ears, but nobody could have denied the fact that I was nonetheless grinning ear to ear - wearing earrings, just like studying French almost every day, has grown to define who I am and I definitely wouldn't feel the same without a pair on my dainty ears. Hence the reason for which the activity of swimming in a pool with tens of middle-aged women baring their cellulite was never deemed as my idea of fun because I could never wear my favourite earrings in the chlorine-polluted water.
After getting my second and final piercing last summer, my love for earrings has reached a whole new level because I've greatly enjoyed the daily task of choosing a pair of 'base' studs or teardrops to co-ordinate with the second piercing, mainly due to my preference of sticking to one style in that still-sensitive hole. However, I'll probably be changing my mind within no time since I received a set of colourful pearl studs for my birthday last week - even more of an excuse to exaggerate my passion over the beloved jewellery!

2) Vampires: Perhaps probably best reserved for Halloween and Twilight-themed movie marathons, vampires have all but assumed the role of a fascination in my eyes which, despite having reached the all-exciting climax of Breaking Dawn more than a year ago, I highly doubt will be bursting into orange flames à la a sunburnt vamp.
Truly, not even my pale-faced self can muster an answer which logically explains for my fondness for the sharp-teethed creatures, though it would be almost as impossible as affording a Dior bag (or Louis Vuitton bag, if you wish to explore my bag-fuelled fantasy further) to deny how intriguing the fictional species are - they are a far cry from the sausage-devouring people trawling the streets in the modern day world, so of course I would be instantly drawn to them like an online H&M sale!
From big-budget Hollywood films to action-packed books (there is no need to ask the theme of my red-tinged dreams, if you haven't already realized), I like vampires because they explore life in a different manner to humans and I've always been quite a sucker for fantasy/sci-fi films. Unlike the ghastly sight of an alien in desperate need of cosmetic surgery in Aliens, I've never been unable to quench my pride over having the ability to take pleasure in the sight of a red-eyed vampire with a bloody mouth in need of a good scrub; after all, it's what I call my guilty pleasure so why not indulge myself in it like a rare serving of rich chocolate mousse?
Oh, and what's better to spend a Friday night in style than watching the juiciest programme on the planet, The Vampire Diaries? Whatever it's about, the diaries must be far more interesting than my own; will a spotty-faced girl like me ever stand a chance of being caught within a love triangle with two handsome vampires? This is an obsession best enjoyed whilst sitting on the sofa, so I think.

3) Cats: Although I can hardly see anything negative about having such a huge passion for stroking, playing and hanging out with fluffy, amical cats, it wouldn't take me a second to declare a life-long obsession for these beautiful animals - they are essentially my whole life!
My first kitties, Tom and Jerry, protected me like a prized painting at the London Museum when I was a little baby and I grew up in a loving environment where litter trays, soaked copies of The Daily Mail and a horrible-scented Felix cat food were a massive part of everyday life. Even catching sight of a cat trotting on the pavement near my house provoked the whole family to rush over to the window, talking twenty to the dozen about a cat's fur covered in black oil and dirt like a massive story had been announced on the news.
Why do I love cats? I guess that my love for them simply runs in my genes because both my parents grew up with them, so blame my genetics for smiling at pictures of tiny kittens and videos starring a whingeing cat on YouTube! Plus, cats inherit such adorable looks and certainly play up to their cuteness, dispelling all beliefs that cats are boring - Tom's singing habits and Jerry's ability to obey demands proved otherwise!
And, as I've mentioned here time and time again, my two new kittens, Bart and Benny, have only fuelled my cat-tastic love because they mean the world to me - literally! I'm always spending time with them whilst studying French, writing essays or engaging in my afternoon snacks of peanuts; being in the lovely company of cats and kittens only signals happiness for me, so I'm proud that I adore them so much!

4) Writing: Maximizing a skill is an activity deserving of being encouraged, right? And that is exactly the course of direction which my parents have steered me upon because they realized my passion for writing before I even fully comprehended it - and look where I am now!
As I upload new entries here and dedicate a generous amount of time to completing essays, many might deem me a part-time writer, though I wouldn't decline the offer of payment for my beloved hobby! But nothing could make a dent in my enjoyment of writing because it brings me piles upon piles of pleasure - an obsession worth appreciating unlike dreaming of a hard-to-afford handbag or wardrobe filled with Chanel's latest haute couture collection!
Right now, I wouldn't even think about giving up writing as I feel more confident and settled in my own skin, which is the driving force behind my relentless determination and passion to succeed in my tasks! I may do many things like baking cinnamon-coated snickerdoodles, secretly dancing to my favourite songs and winning a not-too-violent fight against my brother, but writing definitely claims the top spot on my list of favourite hobbies - and obsessions, if you really have to ask!

So, you won't need to ask twice about what makes me crazier than an boy band-loving fan, will you? I'm an obsessed teenager with too many passions to describe or even realize - and let's celebrate it!