An Open Letter To Katie Hopkins

Dear Ms. Hopkins,
                              Hello. I used to like you, way back when, Katie. When you were on The Apprentice I thought out of everyone in your series you deserved to win the most, had the best ideas etc. I still think you should have done to be honest, maybe then you'd be spending too much time on your important, highly paid job to crop up across our TV screens and in our magazines being a judgemental bigot.
See, I just read your article 'Being A Size 16 is NOT Okay' which I am loathe to link to because I know each page view is money in your pocket. (Sorry readers, if you want to read it, google the title!)
You have some very interesting things to say on the subject, such as:

"Fat people are always unhappy with their weight. Show me a happy fat person and I will show you someone beaten by Maltesers. Most are so afraid to take on a battle with their weight they would rather lie to themselves and find an excuse."

I should probably tell you now that I am fat. Fatter still than those women that you are relentlessly shaming in your article-I am a size 18-20. So I expect that in your mind I am chronically depressed over just how fat I am, because my entire happiness in life boils down to what size jeans I wear, right? Well, Katie, you couldn't be more wrong because I'm pretty darn happy. Actually, more than happy (you might want to brace yourself here), I look in the mirror and I like what I see. I think I look pretty awesome, actually. And I know you won't believe me, that you think I'm just deluding myself because "In our hearts we know that slim is better." but I have to disagree-I look great and I don't think losing 4 dress sizes could possibly make me feel any happier about myself.

 It is true that a lot of fat people are unhappy with their weight, but do you know why that is Katie? It's because there are so many people like you out there who are dictating who has a right to happiness and telling people how they should look in order to obtain it. It's difficult to be fat and happy when every single day you see or read things that are designed to make you feel ashamed of yourself, to hate the way you look because it's not "normal, the same as everyone else"-again your words. I don't think you mean 'normal' Katie, I think you mean 'different from you' and if that's the case then I wholeheartedly celebrate my 'abnormality'-because I hope to never be one iota like you!

I for one think it's brilliant that Debenhams are displaying size 15 models in their shops because it helps to reinforce the fact that beauty isn't just 'one size fits all'. We're all different-we don't conform to your narrow minded chocolate-box idea of beauty-where we're all the same size, wearing the same clothes, styling our hair the same way and smiling the same Stepford wives smile.

So I too have some advice for those ladies who are wavering on their New Year's Resolutions-but it's slightly different to yours! Ladies, don't let anyone tell you what size you "should" be to be happy, don't let anyone tell you that you need to lose weight in order to be "normal". If you are healthy, if you like what you see when you look in the mirror, if you love yourself, then no-one can tell you to be any different. And if you're not happy, then sure, diet, exercise, lose weight if you think it will make you feel better about yourself, but don't just do it because some judgemental, small minded bigoted person told you to. You are so much more than a number in your jeans, and your happiness levels should not be tied to that alone.

Katie Hopkins, you can take your unwanted opinions and crawl back under the rock you came out from, you're a pretty horrible person. I would definitely rather be fat (and loving it!) than be as judgey of other people as you are.

-Jenni-

30 Posts of Truth-Part 13

A Band or Artist That Has Got You Through Tough Days (Letter)

Dear Queen (well that feels suitably weird),* 

I know that my choosing you will be a somewhat controversial choice as not everyone will understand just exactly why I love you. I know that some people (although I suspect they are in the minority) will say that they can't stand you and that you are terrible, but to those people I say pish, this is my blog and my letter, take your silly opinions elsewhere. Everyone knows at least one Queen song, don't they? I mean knows it well too, can sing along to all the words and everything. And I suspect a lot of people have a copy of your Greatest Hits buried somewhere on a dusty CD shelf because it's just one of those albums that everyone has, everyone knows, everyone enjoys. But that's not really what this letter is about.

I'm not really one who turns to music when I'm feeling emotional-I like to write sad poems and angry blog posts instead, but the few times I have really needed a song to fit a mood, I have always found one amongst your albums. There are so many songs that match so many emotions-not just the ones everyone knows but the ones that they don't, from the albums that most people haven't heard of unless you're a fan. And there's a song for every mood too-if you're happy, if you're feeling awesome and want to strut down the street, if you feel like crying, if your heart is breaking.

I didn't happen upon your music until I was 13 or so-and then I went to see a performance of 'We Will Rock You' on a school trip. All the songs were awesome but I can distinctly remember listening to the gorgeous version of 'No-One But You' (sung by one of my now favourite West End stars-Kerry Ellis) and feeling the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. It was really beautiful and moving and I decided that I had to know more of this band that I had never heard before, because the music was wrapping itself around my heart and making it beat just a little faster than before. 'No-One But You' was the first Queen song I fell in love with, but there have been many many more since. 

As a slightly older teenager, I had the song 'Someone to Love' as my ringtone because it was all I wanted in the world-someone to love me, someone for me to fall in love with. Talk about subtle hint to the universe, huh? That became 'my' song for a while, because I felt like it could have been written for me-the words were taken right out of my head. The opening line still gives me shivers, even now.

Even last year, when all the crap with my ex and my ex-best friend went down, there was a Queen song that knew how I was feeling. I must have listened to 'Too Much Love Will Kill You' a hundred times on repeat, bawling my eyes out and singing along. The lyrics 'torn between your lover, and the love you leave behind' have never felt more poignant to me and the song still settles an air of melancholy about my shoulders like a cape when I listen to it-but I don't mind that at all because it's gorgeous.

There are others too, of course-'You're My Best Friend' which reminds me of good times and great friends,
' '39', which me and my Dad sing along to in the car, automatically harmonising with each other and 'Love of my Life' which is one of my favourite favourite Queen songs ever because it's beautiful.

I really do think there is a Queen song to fit to any mood, to match any emotion, to make you cry if you need tears or make you laugh if you want to smile, and I love them, I love them all.

So to the legend that is Freddie, to Brian, to Roger and John-thank you. Thank you for your beautiful lyrics, for your foot stomping bass lines, for your epic guitar solos. Thank you for making music that gets into your heart and your head like nothing else, that pull on your emotions and that everyone, anyone could relate to. You might not have "got me through" the tough times so much, but your songs were the soundtrack to them, and a lot of the good times too. I can't believe that it's only been 10 years since I first got my own copy of your Greatest Hits because I feel like I've always known these songs-they've been the backing music to my life for so long that I can't understand how I've not known them forever.

I'm glad I found you when I did.

-Jenni-

*I'm deciding now that I am writing this as if 'Queen' were a singular person, to make my life easier, OK?

To Every Man I've Ever Kissed, Part 2

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This is the (considerably shorter) half of this two part blog. You can read part 1 here if you want to read it , which covers right from when I was 6 to when I was 18. This one picks up where that one ended, and takes me right up to today, and was the harder half to write for sure. But then again it would be, because it's covering my most recent ex-a tale you've all heard before and one I'm doing my best not to dwell on too much any more. Succeeding mostly too.
Here's part two then:

To My Second Love;

It’s weird, I can’t remember our first kiss at all-I was still with Mr. #1 (though by this stage I don’t really know why) and it evolved as a goodbye peck on the lips-how I hadn't clicked that I majorly had the hots for you by then I just don't know. I remember the first proper ones though-I remember nearly everything about ‘Superhero Night’ actually, although I bet you've forgotten every detail. I remember holding the curtain open to let the moonlight illuminate your face and realising just how much I liked you, and that I didn’t feel guilty about it. It was finally time for me to let go of Mr. #1 and you became Mr. #2 not too much longer afterwards.

I always liked your kisses, they weren't slobbery, or sticky, and you weren't miserly with them but happy to give me as many as I wanted and take as many in return. When you used to send me goodnight texts with lots of xs on I'd joke that I actually wanted that many when I saw you again-and you always obliged. We were sickeningly sweet behind closed doors, although I doubt many of our friends would have guessed because we were never really affectionate in public-something which I didn't actually mind too much at all.
I can still remember our last kiss-I remember the ending as clearly as the beginning actually. It was a day full of emotions and tears and heartbreak on both sides. At the end you left and I remained collapsed on the bed, utterly broken. I heard your footsteps over my head as you walked out of my house and then I ran after you, wanting to kiss you goodbye just one more time. It was a fleeting kiss, as you stood on my doorstep for the last time, and it tasted of tears but I'm glad we had it because it was the final full stop on the final page of our book, and I really needed that.
Heartbroken, I may have been, but I'm thankful that we ended things properly. Even though that wasn't the last time I ever saw you, in my head it was the ending of everything I knew at the time so I'm grateful to have a good memory to look back on, really. I can forget everything after that, because you’d already moved on anyway, but that kiss was the last moment you were ever mine.

To Mr. Next, Whoever You May Be;

I've imagined how our first kiss will go a hundred times (although you don’t actually have a face in my mind yet) but I know it won’t turn out like that, really. I'm going to be so nervous and feel incredibly sick and it’s going to be awful.  It will be my first ‘first kiss’ for at least 4 years so I'm not really going to know what to do with myself. I'll be horrendously under confident and shy and basically wishing you would do all the work so I don't have to. I apologise in advance if I bash my teeth into yours or turn my head the wrong way or can't actually look at you at all because our faces are so close and I want to kiss you but just can't. I’ll be nervous and jittery and undoubtedly a bit crap-it's been a while, I've sort of forgotten what I'm supposed to do and how it all works. I'm hoping it will all come back to me after that first time, but you might need to remind me a little. I just hope you’re understanding, and kind, and laugh with me when things go a bit wrong rather than letting it make things even more awkward. I'm looking forward to it (and am terrified about it) already. Now come and find me already, I'm getting impatient!

-Jenni-

To Every Man I've Ever Kissed Part 1

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I've been a bit neglectful of my blog recently, but that's because not much has been happening to me and also because the things that have been happening to me I don't want to (or can't) blog about yet. I read a similar one of these posts on Thought Catalogue and really liked the idea so thought I'd do one of my own. Things are going to get personal and I do hope you won't judge me too harshly-believe me I've spent enough time doing that to myself. It's in two parts basically coz it's really long, which is surprising (for me) given that it only talks about 5ish people.
Here we go then, a letter to every man I've ever kissed, part 1:

To the very, very first;

We were in school together and you always let me catch you when we played kiss-chase. We were “boyfriend and girlfriend” for all of infant school and probably entirely too adorable too.

I saw you, not too long ago actually, on a bus. You clearly had no idea who I was but I remembered because I never forget a face and had to smile to myself. You have a weird accent now (I would guess from uni?) but your voice is still the same. You smoked a cigarette at the bus stop-eugh, lucky escape.

To my first, proper kiss;

I was 14ish and miserable because all my close friends had boyfriends and that was everything I really wanted. You were 17ish (I think) and we met at Explorers (Scouts). I can’t remember all the intricacies but I remember the first kiss. We were sat on your bed watching Futurama and we kissed for hours. I have to confess it wasn’t the best kiss in the world-there was a lot of slobber. I kept reapplying my lip balm because you were drying my lips out and you hated the texture. To this day I still don’t really like saliva and I hear you still hate Vaseline too-fair’s fair I guess.
I’m sorry that I wasn’t the person you wanted me to be-but I was just a teenager who wanted to be wanted-I had no idea what love was, not then. I can only hope your kissing technique has improved by now though.

To my first love;

We were too cute together, I’m sure. So chronically nervous about admitting our feelings to each other that my friend gave you her phone so you could text me to ask me out. Your hands were too big for the tiny buttons, so in the end she did it for you-an unorthodox start, I'll admit. I texted back my response and that was it, we were a couple. We spent a lot of time nuzzling and snuggling and probably being incredibly insensitive and ignorant to our friends. Your stubble used to mess my hair up when you rested your chin on my head (ever after known as the Velcro Effect) but I was too smitten to care. I remember one time when it started raining really suddenly when we were in town-everyone else scattered for cover but we stood kissing in the middle of the downpour like we had just stepped straight out of a film or something.

Honestly though, I can’t really remember what your kisses felt like. Towards the end of our relationship we stopped doing anything other than a swift peck on the lips and I remember missing those times at the start when we just used to kiss for hours and hours. Basically we just slowly unravelled to the point where we didn’t know each other anymore and no amount of pretending would save us. I’m sort of sad to say I can’t even remember our last kiss.

To Mr. Intermediate;

I can still remember what I said to you after you first kissed me: “Well if someone had been watching us all morning they’d be cheering now we’ve finally kissed!”-it did feel pretty inevitable. And of course, we shouldn’t have and I felt bad for doing so-but that didn’t stop me doing it again. I was pretty conflicted at this point-Mr. First Love and I were falling apart at the seams and I was so starved of affection that flirting with you, kissing you, seemed like a good idea at the time. You said all the things that I desperately wanted to hear and I just gave in to that in the end. I was terrified of losing him, of having to learn to be on my own, even with my lips glued (literally, they were quite sticky kisses...) to another man’s face I still thought I loved him and couldn’t be without him. I know you wanted me desperately and would have been mine in a second if I’d asked, but I have to confess I’m not sure I ever, properly, wanted you. 

We spent maybe 6, 9 months sneaking around and kissing illicitly and I started to hate myself more and more-I didn’t like the person you were turning me into.  I can’t remember when we stopped, or why, but my crushing sense of guilt probably had a lot to do with it.
We tried to stay friends but you wanted me all to yourself and I wasn’t prepared to give that, so we parted ways, none too amicably either.
For a while, you were my only (big) regret but now I’ve given up on that-I’d rather think that everything that’s happened in the past has helped to make me who I am today. At the time, I needed it, because it paved the way for what was to happen next. 

And you'll just have to wait until tomorrow to find out what that was, sorry.

-Jenni-