'Tis the season

In case the Santa hats and seasonal cookbooks in every shop, decorations and lights in your neighbourhood or the songs that are constantly being played on the radio were not enough for you to notice, Christmas is coming. And that means Christmas parties. Which, in turn, means dressing up.
Now I don't know about you, but for me dressng up was always fun. I used to spend hours on end planning what to wear, what make-up will go with it and what part of my personality I would be channeling this ear. Turns out 'fun' was exactly what some of my peers were making of me, seeing some of my sartorial disasters. I didn't know what I was doing wrong until quite recently. There was a big wedding party in my partner's family and I didn't know most of the people invited. Normally I would do my best to impress them and outshine all the ladies present. I wanted to do red-carpet glamour, long gown, dazzling jewellery and all, so I spent countless hours looking for the perfect dress and was furious, because none of the ones I tried on suited my plan. And then it dawned on me: I was simply trying too hard. So I ditched the plan, found a fabulous pale pink silk frock which was not only feminine and sexy, but also comfortable, added a bit of shimmer to my usual make-up pallette - and thoroughly enjoyed the night. What I loved most was being me instead of trying to look as someone else.
I've seen lots of fashion mistakes in the past. I've seen the usually prim and proper girls attempting to do rock chic glamour and ending up looking cheap and tacky. I've seen grunge girls donning classy gowns and pretending to be posh ladies, then spending the night in the corner of the room, sitting stiffly and not having much fun. I've seen serious women in girly, flirty prom dresses sneaking out of clubs and hoping none of their co-workers has actuall seen them.
The key is: be you. Whoever you are. Dress up, but don't dress as someone else.

Where courage lies

My partner has a penchant for finding good films and he's hardly ever wrong with his recommendations. Quite recently, he's found 'Four Feathers', a 2002 film starring Heath Ledger. It surprised him that I'd not seen it before, as it was apparently quite well known. Now I fully understand why.
The film is set in late XIX-th century and tells a story of a young man. He's got it all: a lovely fiancee, a general for a father, a bright future ahead of him. He's just about to finish his military service, get married and live with his new wife in peace - but suddenly all soldiers in Her Majesty's service are called to Sudan, where Britain is fighting against rebellious natives. Instead of following the call of duty, the hero makes a choice of quitting the military. That choice, as life shows, changes everything.
It's a beautifully told story: there's love, there's passion, there's sacrifice. And, above all, there's courage - it takes many forms, but eventually shows even in those who were thought to be cowards. Heath Ledger delivers an Oscar-worthy performance - he's emotional, authentic, real. A definite must-see.

Perfection, finally.

Let's be clear on that: I am a passionate shopper. There's nothing in the world that I love more than the buzz of shopping centres, the long rack-raiding sessions, the process of reinventing myself with different outfits and different styles. I even like the bits and pieces of chit-chat in the queue to the changing rooms. A day in Westfield, Shepherd's Bush, is my idea of a perfect day out.
But I utterly hate shopping for jeans.
There's quite a few reasons for that, but the most important one is the way they cut jeans today. I'm one of those women who happen to have a really tiny waist, but a round bum and so-called strong thighs. Therefore, whenever I try something on, I can be almost certain that: a) I won't be able to squeeze my bottom into it, or b) it'll fit around the thighs, but I'll have a huge gap between me and my jeans around the waist. Also, I'm no longer 16 and all those low-rise styles look just plain wrong on me. Plus, I don't want to show everyone what I'm wearing under my jeans - that's my private business, thank you very much.
So whenever I have to buy a new pair of jeans, I cringe. And yesterday I had to find ones that would go well with a slinky top for all the Christmas dos ahead - and with a pretty blouse for everyday wearing. Which meant that, apart from fitting perfectly, they had to tick all the right boxes: they had to be dark, high waisted, possibly with a 'party' finish - and not cost a fortune.
I spent hours (literally) in Levi's, Henleys, Gap, River Island - you name it. And then I thought I'd try Armani Exchange.
The first impression was that they were much cheaper than I'd expected. And - oh joy! - they had a few high waisted styles. I've tried three, all of which were good, but I completely fell for one: a high waisted, almost black pair of super-sleek denim trousers with three front buttons and nicely finished back pockets. They make me look slim, sophisticated and can be glammed up in an instant with a sequinned top and loads of jewellery. I had one pair of jeans once that I truly coveted and I thought I'd never find another pair to match them.
Well, luckily it looks like I was wrong.

Good Vibrations

When I got to the gym this morning, it turned out my spinning class was cancelled. I was slightly disappointed, but decided to do my workout anyway. Good thing I took my iPod with me, as I was close to leaving it at home, as it's slowly falling apart and I'm not entirely sure when I'll be getting a new one.
Anyway, I took to my cardio workout, did some rowing, 40 minutes on the step, 20 minutes on the cross-trainer...
And then I saw it. The mysterious machine in the corner of the club, shying away from the crowd, lonely and, quite honestly, a bit scary. In other words, the PowerPlate.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not technophobic, but every time I try out a new electronic device, something goes wrong. I did have some time on my hands, though, so I decided to give it a go. The fact that it promises to deliver great resluts in just 10 minutes of training a day did help me to make this decision, and so did the huge how-to sheet behind the machine itself.
The PowerPlate is, essentialy, a machine that looks somehow like the DHD device from Stargate, if you know what I mean. It's a plate covered with rubber with some straps attached to it, some handles to grab and a console that turned out to be easy enough to operate. I set the time, the frequency of vibrations and I positioned myself as shown on the first picture on the how-to sheet.
The first sensation was funny and a bit ticklish. I didn't feel any tension in my muscles, but after a few seconds (and a slight adjustment of my position) I realized something's going on. I didn't exactly feel my muscles contracting, as when I do normal squats or lunges, but after a minute on the plate I could feel the burning sensation which I'd get after my standard workout. So I guess it worked. Of course, I'll have to continue using it to find out - and I am ready and willing to do this. All in the name of science, as they say.
When it comes to abs, though, I'll stick to traditional crunches, thank you very much. The reason? Try laying down on the plate, starting the program and not feeling sick. It's next to impossible.
Otherwise, though, a thoroughly good vibratng experience.

The Bait - Part One

***
The street was still busy, cars breezing by, people walking past, laughing and chatting. I fumbled in my purse, looking for the key. No rush, I said to myself, he needs time to make a decision. He needs time to figure out how far he can go.
The kiss came suddenly and was fiercely passionate. Not an expert, I thought, but he made up for it with his enthusiasm. The key that I was holding in my hand fell on the pavement. I held it with my foot (purple strappy sandals, courtesy of Janine, my best friend) and when our lips finally parted, he knelt down to pick it up, taking this opportunity to brush his palm against my thigh. He looked up at me and smiled, eyes full of hope.
- Would you like to come up? - I asked, although I already knew the answer.
Smiling to myself, I opened the door and came in, feeling his warm breath on my shoulder. As soon as the door closed behind us, he took me in his arms and kissed again. He pressed me hard against the wall. I must have switched on the light with my head, but it didn't seem to bother him. When he let me go, I started climbing the stairs, teasing him, manoeuvring him into following me upstairs. I didn't really have to, he was more than happy to do so.
Just as he was unbuttoning his shirt, I opened the bedroom door and moved away so that he could look inside the room.
His girlfriend, Alison, was sitting on the bed. I could only imagine how angry she felt, yet noticed that at the sight of the surprise on his face, she couldn't help but smile.

***
- Thank you, Lucy - Alison was sipping herbal tea from an enormous blue mug. Her eyes were still puffy from all the tears she'd cried, but she was feeling much better now. They were sitting in the kitchen, by the wooden table. It's just started to rain. - When I met Tim, I thought he might be a bit of a ladies' man, but I'd hoped he'd settle when he finds the right girl. I wanted to believe him when he promised there's no-one but me. Silly cow.
- Don't say that - Lucy picked up another ginger thin. - There's nothing silly about hoping for the best. It's natural to wish for things to work out. But if you know something's wrong, better check it.
- Before getting married - Alison laughed, looking at the lovely diamond ring on the table. She laughed so hard that Lucy coulnd't help but join her.
- Exactly - she said, when they finally regained their breaths.