I Have a Slight… Problem?

This is about the only time I’ll say it plainly, but I NEED your advice on something. Hmm, it’ll take explaining. Kinda.

If this thing actually works, then the featured image (or just the image I think) is my prom dress. I have literally NEVER put an image in my blog, so if something goes wrong, please tell me because I will have NO idea. For anyone who doesn’t know, I’m blind so the whole seeing thing’s a bit bad.

My prom’s on 29 June. For me, it’s really important – it’s the one thing where I’ll TRULY care about my appearance, one time I’ll put a supreme amount of effort into making myself look good, and feel happy. If you know me, you know that I usually don’t mind so much how I look, but Prom will be the one exception.

Except BECAUSE I’m me, I’m in a bit of a quandary (I LOVE that word). So, I’ve got a few situations that I’m shrieking over.

My shoes. Okay, I’m 5 ft 1 and I WILL NOT BE THAT SHORT AT PROM ARE YOU KIDDING ME? So, do I go with heels or flats, and WHERE the hell do I get that from? (I live in England). It’s just so frustrating because I’m scared I’ll run out of time or get ones that don’t match my dress (even though I’ll go shopping with a friend or family member). AND ALSO, I’m shoe size 3 HAHAHAHAAAAAAA. Yeah.

The dress: I NEED it adjusted (it’s too long because it has to be floor-length). That comes with the shoes, and by the time I’ve got the shoes, will it be too late? AARGHH!!! Hopefully it’s come out right on the photo but as you can see, I’d need to get it adjusted and I’m terrified that they wouldn’t do a good job on it.

The main thing is hair and makeup. I have no idea if I should get it professionally done, because to be quite honest, I don’t trust any of my family to do it right. I can’t do it myself because I’d make myself look like a walrus on steroids, so there you go.

Hair, too: if I DO get it professionally done, I’m not sure what accessories would go with my hair. I’m not sure WHY I’m stressing about it so much; I just WANT to look good for once in my life. You know when something’s so important to you?

I won’t be able to tell if I look okay, so I have to rely on people to tell me. That’s why I don’t really trust family to do my hair and makeup, because I know they’d sugarcoat how I look. I’m not even sure WHAT I’d look good in to be honest and I hate feeling insecure.

I want to feel beautiful. That’s so unlike me – but is it? We all want to feel attractive, right? That’s okay. I’m okay for wanting people to look at me and go, maybe just for one night, “That girl looks nice.”

What do you guys think? I’m running round in circles, thinking about this, plus exams, plus EVERYTHING else. I know I haven’t put a picture of my face. on here, but does anyone have any advice/is ALSO panicking about prom?

From Elm πŸ™‚

Guest Post – Body Confidence

Hey guys! Today I have a guest post from the amazing BeautyAnion and it honestly made me feel better about myself. This is the. type of message that SHOULD go around. Anyway, I’m honoured that she’d post on my blog – thank you!

Hello everyone,

Now I know that my blog is a ‘fashion blog’ but I thought that this was an important issue that I would like to address and to me I think it sort of relates to style.

I used to love being a child and not giving a care about the world around me and I would be able to enjoy the things I do without hesitating, and people still say to be that I am still young and should be care free but asadolescence-hood struck upon me I have grown extremely self conscious of my body. Most teenage girls could also probably relate to this. And I do care about the way I look.

Majority of girls you ask will say there is something about them that they don’t like, whether it is the size of certain areas, stretch marks, or so on, and even if you see girls posting photos on Facebook of them in bikinis, I’m sure they would say something similar.

I always find myself comparing my body to others, and what I would like to happen to my body if I started exercise more regularly. I very rarely wear crop tops without high waisted jeans as I feel like everyone is judging me on the way I look. Do you feel the same sometimes?

But then I do wonder, why should we care? Why should I be comparing myself to somebody from a magazine who has more than likely been photo-shopped in some way or another? The fact is I shouldn’t. You shouldn’t. This is going to sound so cliche but we were given the body’s that we live in today and you only get one body and you should love you for being you. Ignore the comments made, all that matters is that you are happy and should live life fully, not worrying about whether you will be judged, because really we are all the same.

Body confidence issues are a problem among many, not just girls, but boys too! And this blog post definitely won’t solve anything, but I just wanted to put the message out there that whatever you wear, you wear because you like it, it makes you you and you shouldn’t worry about what you look like in it or what others think because really, think to yourself ‘Does it really matter what others think of me when I am comfortable being who I am?’

So wear that crop top, or shorts or whatever it is in pride. Just be happy and be you!

BeautyAnion xo

BGTB – Week 4: What to Blog About

I’m a miserable little child and FORGOT TO DO WEEK 3 OF THIS WELL DONE!

In case you didn’t know, my amazing friend ateenagediaryonline is hosting something called Beginner’s Guide to Blogging and this time, it’s week 4, where we have to post about what we post about. CONVOLUTED? Err no, not really.

So I’ll put my own little spin on things, that isn’t really original. but shh I’m a complete and utter rebel so I do things my own way. Shut UP, ELM!

I don’t have a set theme for posting, except, well, life. You have beauty bloggers, book bloggers, fashion and travel and art bloggers, and then you have me. By that, I mean, I just blog about whatever the hell I like, WHEN I like, on whatever topic I like.

When you start a blog, you CAN pick a theme. You can blog about some good beauty products, or document your travels or write about politics or animals or ANYTHING you’re passionate about. Alternatively, you can just write about your life, which is what I do, mixed in with various other things like rants about music or people in general.

I’m a TERRIBLE example when it comes to posting about one set topic, so I just don’t. I don’t like the pressure; I just want this blog to be personal and about ME as a person, and maybe you too.

If you’re stuck for ideas, try some of these out, and put your OWN spin on it (like I didn’t do)

Christmas (if you celebrate it)
And if you don’t, what DO you celebrate? (For example, Eid or Hanukkah)
A random story from your life – it can be ANYTHING
Talk about a topic you have a passion for, like photography or writing or music, and maybe show us a bit of your work (that would be amazing)

Always remember: post what YOU want to post, not what anyone’s telling you to post. Don’t post because you feel pressured; post because you REALLY want to and you have that spark that gets you motivated.

Hope you liked this! What kind of stuff do you post about, and when you started blogging, did you have a set theme and have you kept to that?

From Elm πŸ™‚

Body Confidence Or Not?


Okay, so it’s time I took a tumble. Or rather, it’s time my thoughts towards MYSELF took a nose dive. It hasn’t happened in a long time, and I’m irritated that this has cropped up now, but I need to deal with these feelings before they go out of hand.

For Halloween, I’m dressing up as… A Witch, or something to that effect. And because my sister is a stupid mental fucking bitch (I’m sorry it’s not her fault I’ll explain later), I don’t have a Halloween costume. So, I’m dressing in all black with a hat. Great, right? Nothing could go wrong.

Except I put on the clothes, and wanted my dad to take a picture so I could send it to someone I trust to ask if it was acceptable because I neither trust him nor myself. THAT’s when things went seriously wrong.

BECAUSE I CAN’T STAND STRAIGHT. I look like a twat. Nothing I do is right, nowhere I stand is right. I keep leaning forward or I just can’t look right and when I try to correct it, it looks worse. No pose I’m in makes me look comfortable, I’m ugly, I’m stupid, I will get laughed at, my posture’s terrible, my hair is disgusting, my clothes look awful…

Those were all thoughts running through my head about 5 minutes ago. We DIDN’T keep any of the pictures, because I was so angry I was nearly shouting and I had enough. It makes me want to scream now. I was truly horrified at myself and my inability to stand normally and feel normal and LOOK normal, because god knows I trust no one to tell me I’m pretty because I can’t tell if they’re right.

And, ugh, here we come with the “I’M BLIND” argument. CRAP, this is so attention-seeking, but it’s the truth. I can’t see my damn face. I can’t see how horrific I look. I feel like crying right now because I’m so so hopeless. I don’t want pity, and I wish these feelings hadn’t happened.

I hate these insecurities so much because I can’t do anything about them. It feels like they’re choking me, and I don’t want to return to that pathetic idiot who tries to impress people. That’s not how I am. These will pass, I know, but for now I can’t do a thing. I want to go back to not caring about my appearance but I CAN’T, because I’ll get offhand comments and laughter today and I can’t deal with it. I want to look normal without having to rely on other people to help me not look like a stupid loser.

My dad doesn’t understand. He doesn’t get why my voice is so listless and why I’m so unresponsive, and he doesn’t understand that my wrists feel weak and I want to rip the skin off my face and that I HATE returning to this state. It’s awful. I thought I was over this stupid “I feel disgusting!” bullshit!

I’m so done. Tonight, I’m going to have fun and I’m going to enjoy myself, but there will always be the lingering “EVERY SINGLE PERSON PROBABLY LOOKS AMAZING AND I DON’T!” spiel pouring through my mind. I can’t stop it. I just feel horrendous and like I’m worth nothing. I’m a disaster, basically.

Sorry, everyone. I need to get out. I don’t feel SO awful now; my wrists still feel weak and I feel there’s a cloud hanging over me, but I’m managing.

Thanks for reading! To new readers, I’m sorry – this isn’t me usually. I USED to be like this a lot more, but I’m being honest on my blog, so I need to explain this side of me, too.

From Elm πŸ™‚

That moment when you get your keys stuck IN YOUR BLAZER


I don’t want to be a miserable fuck like I was yesterday. After talking to friends, and EVERYONE on this blog, I feel much better. The support was so amazing that I honestly nearly cried. And after conversations with Wren and Odd and Red about everything and anything, I realised I’ll be okay. I promise. I am still quite fragile, but I’m managing. It’s also down to you, readers, because you’re beautiful and amazing and I want you to know that no matter what, I’m here for you.

So I was thinking about all the slightly hilarious and embarrassing things that’ve happened to me over the years, and I remembered that incident about a year ago where my keys got stuck in my blazer. Luna inspired me to do this post, the amazing girl that she is.

Right, so I got home from school – can’t remember when it was, but I was in year 9, so over a year ago. I was just doing what I usually do – sitting on the sofa and reading, or writing. I was going to go to my dad’s house, and for that I had to find my keys.

Except I couldn’t find them anywhere. I searched my blazer, the house, everywhere, and I was panicking. My mum joined in the search, and we more or less gave up.

An hour later, I searched my blazer again. I shook it, threw it across the room, rifled through all the pockets, and then I heard a jangling sound.

Well, I found my keys. Inside my blazer.

By that, I mean that they were inside the lining of my blazer. They weren’t in the pockets. THEY WERE LITERALLY INSIDE MY DAMN BLAZER.

It took my mum ages to get them out through the minuscule hole they’d fallen through, by which time I was crying with laughter. I called up Willow and basically cackled for about 5 minutes solid.

Dear god. Only these kinds of things happen to me πŸ˜€

If you’d like to see more of these anecdote-like posts, let me know!

Thanks for your support yesterday. It means more than the world. You are amazing and you’re more to me than just a random person behind a screen.

From Elm πŸ™‚

Tell Me: Are You Still Beautiful?

This post was inspired by the wonderful Every Word You Say‘s amazing post. Go check it out!

If you’re a regular reader, you should know that I don’t often talk about my disability – not because I hate talking about it, but because I don’t see (har har har) the point. I’m not someone who makes it their life goal to help people with disabilities improve their life, because my motto is “Carry on through it all, because that’s the best you can do.”

But Amy inspired me, as she often does, to talk about this.

I can’t see.

“NO WAY, ELM! It’s not like we didn’t know, or anything!”

Yeah, yeah, but the point is: I can’t see faces. I can’t see bodies, only the vague outline of them.

So, I can’t judge people in terms of beauty.

I have no concept of what beauty looks like, or what ugliness looks like. I go by the sound of someone’s voice, or their words, or the way they speak to me. I go by their personality.

Personalities can be beautiful, too. But this is my life. I’m not unhappy, really, because it’s better.

Some people say it’s sad that I can’t see what a beautiful person looks like.

The thing is, I can.

I see their personality, not their looks, and I’m happy about it.

Someone who can’t see ME can still call me beautiful. I can still call someone beautiful.

Because everyone is, in their own way, at least to me.

I’m starting to accept that. I want people to realise that this thing you call beauty is what you make it. I judge people when someone tells me of a physical feature they have, which is utterly stupid. I don’t KNOW what it looks like, so I shouldn’t.

Like I said, I often can’t stand talking about this because I sound pretentious. I’m not an inspirational person; I don’t care about my disability.

When you can’t see faces, though, you see people differently.

I’m glad of that.

Thank you for reading πŸ™‚

What do you think? What do you think beauty is? Do you like me talking about things like this, and would you like to see more of it?

From Elm πŸ™‚

It Still Hurts, but in a Different Way

When I look in the mirror, all I see is a very vague outline, with some blotches of something else here and there.

I can’t see my face.

The funny thing is, I don’t even care. No, it’s true: I really don’t give a shit. Never seen, never will, won’t cry over something I can’t change. It effects me sometimes, but not often.

That’s not what I want to talk about.

I’m not fat.

I’m not ugly.

I don’t look like a troll.

That’s what I’ve been told. And I know it’s true: my wrists are too skinny, but I’ve been told I’m pretty. I have to believe people, because if I don’t, I can’t trust them.

That doesn’t mean I’m not insecure about my physical appearance. I’m just… It just manifests in a different way.

Okay. This is going to sound odd, but just bare with me?

Close your eyes. Hmm, no – open them just a tiny, tiny bit, so a little slit of light gets through. I think that’s how it works?

Put your hands on your face. What do you feel? Is it smooth skin? No. Not many people have smooth skin. I’m not jealous of them at all; honestly, it doesn’t bother me so much.

So, you can’t see your face. But you can feel it. You can feel the texture of it; you can feel the lumps and spots that just won’t bugger off. Does it bother you? Forget about how it looks – just for a bit. That’ll come back to you once you’ve stopped worrying about how it feels.

Because for me, it FEELS horrific. Of COURSE I still worry about how it looks! That comes with the paranoia.

But it still hurts. It bothers me, and I try to think of how it isn’t grotesque, and people probably can’t see it anyway. Though, how am I to know? I don’t. So I have to trust myself and trust other people, which is pretty shit. Like I said, it doesn’t ALWAYS affect me: sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.

Remember this, though: you’re fantastic. All of you.

I never wear makeup – except some concealer, but I’m forced. If the spots are REALLY bad, I ask someone to put some on. But that doesn’t stop me realising I can still touch them. It doesn’t help get rid of them – it worsens it.

What I’m trying to say here is that I’m not bothered about looking great. I don’t care. But I AM bothered in some way. It’s not a classic way, but it’s a different way.

Just because I’m blind, it doesn’t mean I’m not immune to it.

Just because I’m blind, it doesn’t mean I can’t feel insecure about appearance.

But just because I’m blind, it doesn’t mean that I try to make an effort to please. I don’t care usually. That’s the crux of it.

I’m not a spokesperson for the whole blind community. I wouldn’t want to be, because I don’t fit in there. I don’t talk about my blindness a lot – it’s not because it bothers me or makes me feel upset because it doesn’t, but it’s because it doesn’t define me. I refuse to turn into the person who spouts off inspirational quotes about how to live your life with a disability, or what it’s like. I COULD do that, but it’d be on my own terms.

I know a lot of people can understand my insecurity. I don’t want to ‘enlighten’ people on what it’s like to be insecure when you’re blind – you can probably guess. I’m just giving MY interpretation.

Thanks for reading!

From Elm

Daisies are Cool – stop laughing!

It was bloody boiling today – yes, I know! In ENGLAND? Yup.

At my school, I have to wear a blazer (and a tie) so I was baking. It didn’t help that my friends and I were sitting on the grass and the sun was beating down. It’s not often I sit on the field and I suppose I felt way more free than I usually do – usually I’m on the playground, and it was a bit weird to sit somewhere else, but that’s just me.

So I was listening to the slightly disturbing conversations around me – “You’re both amazing people! Just GO OUT, FOR FUCK’s SAKE!” “I am in a relationship with my iPhone.” “SHUUUUUUT UUUUUP!” And of course I wasn’t involved in them because I was thinking (shocking, I know!)

So like I said, I was feeling a bit different. One of my friends decided to make a daisy chain and I was half-listening and the thought of “daisies” came into my mind.

Okay, so I can’t see much at all, but on the field, I saw these little white specks. Difficult to describe, but that’s the best I can do. From past experiences – AKA from when I was much younger – I presumed they were daisies. I can’t see dandelions anyway.

On the backdrop of those strange conversations – “IT’s OBVIOUS YOU HAVE FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER!” “I told you, she said I should go out with my iPhone”, I picked those flowers off the grass, pinching the stems between my thumb and forefinger to create a sort of bouquet. Stereotypical, right?

I stood up after a while, trying not to drop them, and I could see them – kind of – a clump in front of my face that looked a bit weird. I started walking, a little, like a sort of shuffling motion that only made me go forward a little.

You know the friend who made the daisy chain? She joined the two ends together, put the circle on my head, and then I just stood there. I walked forward, again, nearly onto where the grass met the playground and just stood there. In front of me I could see the expanse of playground a little, and it was still boiling.

It felt really, really odd. A good sort of odd – I felt a little detached, and sort of like I’d done something strange by putting flowers in my hair and holding a bouquet of daisies near my face.

I’m not the type of person who wears makeup, ever, or who accessorises themf. I wouldn’t make it a regular occasion, but I just felt… I guess I felt like I liked it.