Fashiondisaster

Fashiondisaster

Why a blog?

I give up, easily.
Anything. Everything.
Because of a lack of confidence.

People won't like me, laugh at me, think I'm stupid.
That is why my entire life I hid away, in dark clothes.
Black, dark blue or grey.
Anything to make me invisible.

I never used make-up in high school because I didn't know how.
My hair was always the same because I had no idea what to do with it (ponytail, tightly pulled back, in case you're curious).

When I was 18 I got married and I wanted a change.
I wanted the real me to come out.
But I still had no clue how.

At 26 I started this blog.
So that I wouldn't give up, wouldn't forget where I was going.

This is my journey, feel free to walk it with me, every step of the way.
All my failures, all my mistakes.
But also my winnings, my happy moments and my bliss.
I'll be honored to have you with me.


Shopping

PersonalPosted by Fashiondisaster Wed, January 11, 2017 22:24:02
It's not a secret,
Men don't like shopping,
Like us,
Women,
And girls do.

Frankly,
My husband mostly humors me,
By going into a shop with me,
For about two minutes,
And then he had enough,
And sits outside,
On a bench or something,
Waiting,
Or most of the time,
Reading.

He's fine with it,
Having me browse around for hours,
As long as he doesn't have to stand with me,
All of those hours.

Tonight it had me wondering,
What if I ever achieve something in fashion?
I know,
Big if,
But not the point,
What would he do then?

Sending me off on my own?
Drifting apart?
And I kind of panicked a bit there,
Because he's my best friend,
And I want him next to me,
But would he want to be beside me,
For hours of fitting,
Or something like that?

We talked about it,
And he told me not to worry,
He'll be there,
Even if it's just to be sure,
No one else whisks me away,
(Who would, seriously?),
In a kidding kind of way of course,
But I wanted a serious,
Straight forward answer.

And since he's a Capricorn,
I got just that:
"Well, I don't like shopping,
Because when you go into a shop,
It's like,
Let's see what they have that I can buy,
While I walk into a shop,
Knowing what I want,
And I only buy that".

I replied that his way sounded quite boring,
Draining all the fun out of shopping,
Turns out,
My way sucks out all of the fun,
Of shopping for him too.

He hates browsing around for hours,
Watching me pick 15 items,
Hanging ten or more back,
Doubting,
Taking one piece back,
From the pile that I had chosen,
Not to buy.

"It's just a whole proces with you,
And it makes me tired".

So honey,
IF I ever make it into fashion,
Sit with me,
Read your book,
I'll be fine,
As long as I have you by my side,
Shopping or not.




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Humans

PersonalPosted by Fashiondisaster Tue, January 10, 2017 22:29:55
Today,
Was a hard day,
I had to attend a lesson,
That I didn't want to attend,
And it had been stressing me out,
For days,
Reaching it's peak,
This morning.

It made me cranky,
And vulnerable,
But I had to go to work,
Dealing with older people,
Can feel like being a psychologist,
Sometimes.

Today,
I wasn't feeling it,
Dealing with my own problem,
Like I had the world on my shoulders,
And I just had a feeling of,
Leave me alone.

When it was almost noon,
And time to take my break,
A last customer walked in,
Ten minutes before closing,
And it wasn't a favorite one.

I took a deep breath,
And tried to handle it in a fast,
But polite manner.

He wouldn't let me,
Do it fast,
He wanted attention,
Preferably,
A lot of it.

So I guided him to my computer,
To adjust his hearing devices,
He kept asking questions,
Like he always does,
And then he started talking about his wife,
How she was being moved,
From a hospital,
To a care center.

I felt like,
Emotionally,
I couldn't deal with it,
Thinking about that lesson I was dreading,
Feeling the adrenaline.

And suddenly,
It hit me,
A little voice in my head,
Telling me to look at him,
Really look at him as a person,
A soul,
A human,
That was troubled.

And I shifted,
My problems weren't more important than his,
We are all human,
And every problem we have,
Hanging over our heads,
Big or small,
Needs,
No,
Deserves help,
Even if it's just a listening ear,
Or a kind word.

So I did,
I listened,
Smiled,
Comforted,
And gave him kind words.

I still dreaded my lesson,
But I hope,
I made his day better,
Even it was just for a little,
Tiny,
Bit.





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How do girls do it?

PersonalPosted by Fashiondisaster Sun, January 08, 2017 23:06:46
I know, I know,
I'm a girl,
I'm very aware of that fact,
Most of the time,
Believe me.

But I need to ask,
How do girls keep their make-up in place,
All day?

I leave the house,
With little on,
Granted,
A bit of blush,
A touch of mascara,
Sometimes eyeliner,
Depending on how lucky I'm feeling that day,
To get a decent set of wings,
And a hint of some form of lipgloss,
Or lip balm (mostly preferred).

It looks decent,
Not perfect,
The wings tend to screw me over,
But it's ok.

When I get home,
After work,
Around five,
I definitely,
Mostly,
Look like a raccoon.

Eyeliner and mascara,
Smudged everywhere,
From rubbing my eyes,
Sneezing,
Or something other,
That is completely normal,
But bad for my made up face.

My blush,
I swear,
Is gone,
Where does it go?
Did it sink into my pores,
Without me noticing it?
Or did I sneeze it of?

Since I'm at it,
My hair seems to do,
The exact same thing,
Not the disappearing thing,
Thank God,
But when I leave,
It's decent.

Again,
Not perfect,
But ok,
When I get home,
It's either flat,
Really flat,
Or it has all these quirky hairs,
Sticking out,
Everywhere,
To every possible side.

What is up with that?

Am I static?
Is the universe playing tricks on me?
Or am I doing something,
Basically,
Wrong?

Help me out,
Tips,
Remedies,
I'm open to suggestions,
All of them,
One day,
Looking the same,
From morning till evening,
That would be great,
Really.

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New York

PersonalPosted by Fashiondisaster Fri, January 06, 2017 12:09:46
This city,
The buzz,
The creativity,
It has a place in my heart,
My soul,
And my dreams.

Because my love,
Is from a distance,
I've never been there,
Never actually seen it.

In my mind,
I can walk on Times Square,
Without hesitation,
I can see the big lights,
The commercial screens.

I can feel the vibes,
In my bones,
The energy,
Racing trough me.

And it astounds me,
What the mind can do,
What a dream,
In your heart can do.

The dream has been there,
For years,
I've gotta see it,
One day,
It will happen.

I will stand there,
Probably tears in my eyes,
Knowing that I finally made it,
It will feel like coming home,
Seeing the statue of liberty,
The green woman,
Guiding me,
To a place,
That even tough I've never been there,
Feels like a second home.

The Brooklyn bridge,
Central Park,
It's gotta be amazing,
The concrete jungle,
With a green heart,
The hot-dog stands,
Where I will eat until I throw up,
Well,
Maybe not,
But you know what I mean.

This year,
For the first time,
I have the feeling,
That it will work,
That it will come true.

I don't know how,
Don't know why,
But it feels good,
And I love that feeling,
So I decided to trust it,
Let it guide me,
And just assume,
That it will all work out.

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Gordon Ramsay

PersonalPosted by Fashiondisaster Mon, January 02, 2017 19:54:19
I didn't like the guy,
He jelled,
Cursed,
And well,
Basically,
He was,
To me,
A big bully.

Things changed,
Due to programs,
Like "Kitchen Nightmares",
Were he helps people to build up their restaurant,
Again,
After not knowing where they failed.

I started searching the internet,
And learned more about his story,
How he had to start again,
When an injury caused him to say farewell,
To his football career.

His youth wasn't very nice,
His father was an alcoholic,
His brother a heroin addict.

He started in the catering business,
Because he expected to travel,
As a cook.

Now,
He is very well known,
Made a name,
And is even friends with Victoria Beckham.

Depending on what point your standing,
It may not seem as all that much,
He just got lucky,
Or he was at the right place,
At the right time,
But I don't think it works that way.

He never refused to give up,
He had a dream,
That was shattered,
By a knee,
That didn't want to heal,
But he got up,
And fought for a new dream.

Sometimes life,
Puts us in a direction,
That suits us better,
Without us knowing it.

People can say they don't like us,
Because of our behavior,
Our vision,
Or the way we speak,
But when you have that dream,
That vision,
Don't let anyone f*ckin stop ya,
You could be the next Gordon Ramsay you know.



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Peeing in winter

PersonalPosted by Fashiondisaster Thu, December 29, 2016 14:37:35
I know, I know,
Very weird title,
A bit disgusting,
To see it on top,
But hear me out,
Please.

I don't know about you,
But I hate the cold,
Every winter,
It's the same thing,
I get up in the morning,
And it's as if my body,
Turns stone cold.

My feet seem to freeze,
The moment they touch the ground,
And even my beloved peignoir,
Can't keep all the cold out.

In short,
I hate it.

Sure,
I love the coziness,
The candles everywhere,
The blankets,
And sometimes even snow,
I have a heart,
I get it.

But if you're a cold one,
Like me,
You know the drill of getting through the day.

Layers,
Lots and lots of layers.

When it's really cold,
Around zero degrees,
I start with panties,
Yes,
Under my actual pants.

But before I put on any of that,
I protect my upper body with,
A top,
A shirt,
A long sleeved shirt,
And I stuff every layer,
In a different under layer.

So,
The top goes in the panties,
The shirt goes in the pants,
The long sleeves go over the pants,
And on top of that I'll add a sweater.

Are you getting where I'm going with this,
Title wise?

After I get dressed,
I'll put on my coat,
Scarf,
Gloves,
And leave for work.

Once I get there,
The traveling on foot has done it's job,
And yes,
I need to use the toilet...

Every,
Damn,
Day.

Sometimes I'll postpone it,
Hold it up a bit longer,
Not just because of all the layers,
I have to get trough,
Before I can even touch the toilet seat,
But also because the heating at work is broken.

Yes,
You guessed it,
Stonecold toilet,
In the back,
And I'm not talking about the seat alone.

But nature's calls can't be ignored,
And eventually I always end up,
Sitting in that cold small room,
Shivering,
Wishing summer would hurry up.



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Blogging

PersonalPosted by Fashiondisaster Wed, December 28, 2016 13:26:01
The internet is filled with blogs,
And tips,
On how to make them work.

You have to grow your following,
Subscribers,
Fans,
Comments,
And followers.

The tricks to do that,
Are all very similar,
One of them,
Always stands out to me,
You have to write a blog,
Daily.

I don't do that,
Simply because I can't,
I'm not putting up pictures,
From collections I like,
Neither do I have the time to try,
New products every day.

My daughter has been bugging me,
For days,
To make a new YouTube video,
For our canal,
Yesterday,
It finally happened,
Is it made?
Yes.
Is it uploaded?
No.

I've spend hours staring at my screen,
For it to upload,
Seeing the percentage go from 11% to 18%,
And my battery going down to 2%.

My blogs are all personal,
I need to feel the things I'm writing,
Before I can write anything,
Sometimes that means,
3 blogposts in one day,
Sometimes it means one,
In a month.

I can't force it,
Does that mean my blog will never be popular?
No idea,
But in the end,
Is that what matters?

Making the video yesterday,
Having fun,
Goofing around,
Being real,
Never editing anything,
I realized,
Once more,
That blogging is something personal.

Wether you are Vlogging,
Streaming,
Writing,
Or making pictures,
Ultimately,
It's about you.

No one can tell you what is best for you,
Only you can feel it,
In your gut,
Your bones,
Or your soul.

So,
Go ahead,
Follow the beat of your own drum,
Even if that means making only one video,
Blog,
Or picture a year,
It makes you you.


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Childhood dreams

PersonalPosted by Fashiondisaster Sat, December 10, 2016 11:10:44
When I was a kid,
I had the wildest dreams,
And the weirdest imagination,
I would make up stories,
Where I was a lion,
Or a unicorn,
I could fly,
And I could be a guardian,
Of a castle.

Whenever there were other kids around,
I would drag them with me,
In a magical world,
That felt so natural,
That it looked real.

We'd be flapping our sleeves,
From our jackets,
Pretending we were flying ponies,
Or imagining a towel,
To be the only safe place on the grass,
So we had to stay on it,
Or we would be eaten,
By a crocodile.

Today I wondered,
And asked my husband,
Wen did we lose that?
What happens to that kid,
When it grows up,
And becomes an adult,
That is filled with worries,
Sorrow,
And pain?

Is it really because of the experiences,
We had,
In our childhood,
Like books and stuff always make us believe?
Or is something else going on?

When I think back,
I had things in my youth,
That certainly had an impact on me,
But I don't remember developing worries,
And physical pain until I was 17.

School wasn't going well,
Personal circumstances weren't great,
And I felt like a failure,
Someone who didn't belong in the place where she was.

Why is that?
Is it because our surroundings start to consider us a grown up?
An adult,
Who should start to learn to live by the rules?

And who made up those rules?
Who told us to live our lives the way we should?
Shouldn't we be in control of that ourselves?

Let's face it,
We got "adulted" by society the moment they thought we were ready,
You can work from the age of 16,
You can drive and have a full time job by the age of 18,
You can go to school from the age of 2,5,
You can study all your life,
For a better job,
And the money you make should be spent,
On loans,
To buy a house,
And some food.

Is that the life you envisioned as a kid?
Did you dream of this?
Or were you slaying dragons?
A teenager that yelled,
"I'll never be like you!",
When your parents argued that you should change,
Get your act together.

Where are those blissful days,
Of doing nothing,
Just reading a book,
Without feeling guilty,
Without pressure or stress.

I would love to find them back...
And society has us believing,
That the only way to do that,
Is visiting therapists,
Taking pills.

I see the world around me,
And it's like I lost the pink sunnies,
That I was wearing as a kid,
Finally seeing reality as it is,
Dark and gloomy.

But again,
Isn't it the news and papers,
Society,
That points out these gloomy things?
Death,
Despair,
Sorrow,
Grieve,
It's like Pandora's box,
My favorite story as a kid,
Because there was hope,
The last one to get out of that box.

Let's find that hope,
That joy that we lived on,
The love we felt for everything,
And the mesmerizing world we saw,
And created around us,
Let's pick up our crayon again,
And color the world,
The way we want it to be,
Not like someone else says it should be.

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