Five Sad Realisations of Being the Last Childless Friend

I’m 29 in just over a month and the only clock that has started ticking isn’t my biological one, but the one that says time is running out to earn 30k at 30 and to finally bag that Chanel 2.55 as a reward.


While I’m counting down the days to summer in San Francisco, an ever growing number of friends are counting the days until the next Frozen themed birthday party at Charlie Chalks (jokes. Even actual parents hate that shit) Am I sad? Nope. Gutted to be missing out? Definitely not. Sobbing into my ageing ovaries? Never.

But there is something about being the only friend in your whole social circle to not yet have children that opens up some sad, sorry realisations. Suddenly it hits you…

‘Drinks at ours’ is no longer code for ‘pre-drinks before we all get pissed and think sod it, let’s go out’
Parents know there’s nothing more soul-destroying than the heady combination of hangover and baby. Drinks at home are easier to regulate – no fit barman convincing you to do a couple more Jaegers, no downing bottles of wine because it’s time to move on to the next pub and no genius 3am plans to take the party back to yours.
Get used to ‘drinks at ours’ meaning just that…and being seen as a leper when you have one too many and dare to suggest venturing into town.

Christmas will never be the same again
Say goodbye to questionable mistletoe snogs, Christmas Eve piss ups and hanging Christmas mornings. Say hello to your overdraft; 13 nieces and nephews + 4 godchildren x £10 per child = financial ruin and a January leaner than Tara Reid.

People Change
Having a baby changes people and before you know it, your last ‘Sod that, I’m not popping one out anytime soon’ ally is all of a sudden throwing a ‘Tick-tock, biological clock’ curveball into conversation halfway round Topshop.

Comparing children to dogs is never okay
Never, I repeat never, say the words ‘I’ve obviously not got children but I’ve got two dogs and that’s kind of the same thing’. To friends with kids it absolutely is not the same thing and they think you’re comparing their sweet darling bambinos to your stinking hounds. Yes, your dogs are your babies; your friend’s dog was their baby too…until they had an actual human baby.

‘I’m so bored, I think I might die’ text messages will never again generate spontaneous plans
We’ve all been there; Saturday night, watching the backcombed dregs of humanity on Take Me Out and feeling like you might spontaneously combust in a cloud of boredom and Indian takeaway. A year ago you’d grab your phone and be in a wine bar within the hour. These days your ‘So bored I might die’ texts are met with responses of ‘Me too, breastfeeding atm. Txt u later’ or ‘Thought you’d be out chick’.

I’m not out, I’m in. Because all of my friends are breastfeeding atm.

Five Sad Realisations of Being the Last Childless Friend

Ten Soul Destroying Stages of a Low Carb Day

I’m currently several hours into the fourth day of my first ever carb-less week and I figured that if I have to suffer this pain, then so should you. It’s hell. Pure, unadulterated, carb-less hell. But can I give up? No, can I shit.

Firstly, my boyfriend knows I’m attempting it and we are competitive to within an inch of our lives. Giving up four days in would provoke a barrage of ridicule and smugness (despite the fact that I’m usually pretty healthy and he exists solely on pizza, chips and chilli sauce wraps, supplemented with whichever multipack chocolate bars are a quid in Asda this week). Don’t give me all the ‘aww but he should support you!’ bollocks either – 10 years of romancing does not a fairytale make and I would vomit into my carb-less supper if my beloved was to rub my back and utter the words ‘stick at it baby, I believe in you’. I know, I’m a die hard romantic right?

The second reason I must stay in this carb-less hell, is that I have a hen do on Saturday. With a new mum. Who has shed about 6 stone to become a total goddess AND a mum AND the bride-to-be. And it’s not just down to the wonder of breastfeeding either – she’s actually refrained from eating anything slightly fun for ages. It’s like a baby popped out and a salad popped in. I on the other hand have no new baby excuses to play on and have spent the last god knows how many months complaining that there aren’t enough Smarties in my cookie or cheeses on my cheeseboard.

Seems I haven’t blogged in weeks (months?), I decided to share with you the ten stages of a carb-less day. Sorry. Send cakes. And potatoes. All the potatoes.

1 – Wake up to the sound of your rumbling stomach begging you to annihilate a bowl of Cookie Crisp. And not one of those shitty ‘recommended 30g’ portions either. A proper bowl with just enough milk that you can pass it for cereal and not just a bowl of biscuits, and where you have to sit down really steady so they don’t overflow all over the settee.

2 – Notice that when you lay really flat, like press-yourself-into-the-mattress-and-really breath-in flat, you might actually see the shadow of a hipbone. Decide it is all worthwhile and that you will continue the fight with gusto.

3 – Decide that after three full days of saintly low carb behaviour your skinny trousers will surely fit. After all they weren’t that tight before and it has been three full days.

4 – Squeeze trousers over calves (maybe carbs go straight to my calves), then over knees (who even has fat knees?), then over thighs (nope, carbs definitely go to my thighs). Button at the waist and experience a fleeting sense of excitement as they fit. Try and bend down to put on shoes, go back upstairs and change trousers so as to avoid a certain wardrobe malfunction involving showing Wayne in Customer Service more arse than he’s ever seen before (including his own)

5 – Go to Asda, spend £2 on a salad of one solitary slice of ham and a single egg (cut in half so it looks like more – I know your game Asda) and another quid on 4 grapes and half an apple thrown in a pot. Low carb goddess I may be, organised enough to make my own salads I am not.

6 – Eat three Babybel Lights for breakfast. Crammed with saturated fat but NO carbs. And if it’s good enough for Emily Blunt in The Devil Wears Prada, it’s good enough for me. Drink nothing but green tea and sugar free Vimto. Enjoy the extra time away from your desk that comes with excessive toilet visits

7 – Point out to everyone in the office that you’ve got a salad for dinner because you’re ‘Off Carbs’. Realise you’re that dickhead who goes on about diets and exercise all the time when nobody gives a shit. Look at the girl on marketing’s family-sized Galaxy like it contains the secret to unlocking Beckham’s boxers

8 – Rejoice when you spot a recipe for Kale chips on Pinterest. Because that is basically crisps. And OMG crisps.

9 – Boil two bags of Bird’s Eye frozen vegetables for your dinner instead of one because you’re a fearless bastard who doesn’t take shit from anyone.

10 – Go to bed at 9pm, spend an hour looking at Paleo recipes on Pinterest (WTF is Paleo anyway?). Fall asleep feeling pissed off because you can hear your boyfriend eating a Toffee Crisp downstairs and you forgot to go to Asda at dinner for some Kale for your crisps.

So there you have it. Eat your carbs kids. It’s not worth the earache you inflict on everyone around you when you don’t.

Oh, and kale crisps are a load of bollocks. It’s basically just burnt cabbage. And not even the nice sort that cheap Chinese restaurants sometimes try and pass off as crispy seaweed either. Sorry…I’m just hungry.

Ten Soul Destroying Stages of a Low Carb Day

That 70’s Show

Tom Ford SS15

Ever since Tom Ford’s ridiculously sexy SS15 catwalk show, I have harboured the strongest of desires to rock a khol eye, shaggy fringe and huge flares. But then came Christmas and all that having to think of other people malarkey, so the flares have been stuck on the wish list until the end of a January that has been leaner than Tara Reid on a detox.

And then I remembered…about 5(!) years ago I bought some flared jeans in Tesco for the princely sum of £12. They fit in the way only flares can, making your legs look 10 inches longer and your thighs look 2 inches slimmer. But I never wore them. Fast forward 5 years and I’m frantically searching through my jeans trying to find them. And find them I did. And fit they do (massive bonus as they’re a size 10 and I’m a perennial 11). God, I’m excited.

Anyway, with flares found I popped over to Pinterest for outfit inspo and came across this little lot. Why oh why did we ever start wearing skinnies?

Flared Jeans Leather Jacket
Image from Pinterest
Flared Jeans Fur Coat
Image from Pinterest
Flared Jeans Outfits
Images from Pinterest
That 70’s Show

Here’s To Wearing The Other 95%

10 leather pencil skirts (plus 4 minis)

7 sequin pencil skirts

12 Breton striped tops

9 grey jumpers (12 if you count cardigans too)

11 LBD’s

I could go on and on and on…

This is the reality of my wardrobe in numbers. An infographic if you will (minus the pictures and exciting bits people actually want to see), resulting from a wardrobe cleanse of epic proportions and created from the realisation that I may actually be addicted to shopping.

Sunday night started like any other. Bored rigid after enduring 6 straight hours of football, American football and even darts (Phil Taylor is an arse and darts is for old men), I left the boyfriend spooning the remote control and decided I would tidy my wardrobe. Now, let me first make it known that my wardrobe is actually the box room, converted with shelves for shoes, rails for clothes and drawers for stuff. My suitcase sat in the centre of the room, unpacked and deserted since I returned from New York last year (that sounds worse than it actually is, it is only January and I only got home on the 29th December. Plus I had emptied the worn stuff out on my return so I was basically just using the case as extra storage space really). I knew I was in for a hoot but similarly had no idea that the mammoth task would present me with a worrying realisation…


My name is Rebecca Martin and I am a shopping addict.

A few weeks ago, my manager suggested we all fill a charity bag with unwanted clothes. UNWANTED CLOTHES! I think he sensed my outrage as he never raised the subject with me again. See, although I love shopping, I hate throwing shit out. Case in point – a multi-coloured lame blazer. Now, I don’t ever intend on presenting an 80’s gameshow, nor do I expect Studio 54 to make a comeback and demand those attending wear authentic 80’s attire. But I bought the lame and I treasured it, and I felt real pangs of emotion when I finally let it go to the charity shop bin liner tonight. Same with the neon yellow blazer (tags still on), purple and blue geometric patterned trousers (tags still on there too) and leopard print hotpants (tags off, never worn). Gone, all gone, bye bye, woohoo…see ya (to quote the great Buzz Lightyear).

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Three charity shop destined bin liners, one rubbish bag and one ‘give the sister’ bag later, and the wardrobe is finally cleansed. The grey, leather and sequins are sticking around, as are allllll the shoes. And I have well and truly realised that I do not need to do ANY clothes shopping for a long time (how unblogger-like, I know). The thing is, I absolutely needed and could not live without every single thing in my wardrobe at some point. Yet I wear the same 5%, day in day out, wear-wash-wear…over and over. While the rest sits there, feeling dejected and gathering dust.

Here’s to wearing the other 95%

Here’s To Wearing The Other 95%

New York I Love You…but I love your shopping more

Christmas in New York never gets old and the only thing more magical than larger-than-life Christmas decorations and icy walks through Central Park is the sales that start the day after Christmas. While everyone at home opted for turkey sandwiches and online shopping, I slipped into my comfiest boots and braved the cold city streets in search of the best sales New York could offer. And boy was I in for a treat…

From top left: Sequin Dress (Urban Outfitters), T-Shirt (American Apparel), Dress (Nordstrom Rack), Free People Dress (Sample Sale – Chelsea Market), Sequin T-Shirt (Urban Outfitters), Joie Silk Dress (Nordstrom Rack)

Sequins all round at Urban Outfitters, where an extra 50% off sale prices left me facing an eight hour flight home in a sequin dress, thanks to an already full suitcase. The American Apparel T-Shirt isn’t my usual thing but it was my last day and I blame Soho for making me so goddam sad to be leaving.

My poor photography skills don’t even nearly communicate just how amazing the cream Free People dress is (photographed from the back above). Part boho wedding dress, part Exorcist; total man repeller. I have no idea when I will wear it, but it was $35 in a sample sale at Chelsea Market and I couldn’t leave something so stupidly beautiful behind. I would almost consider getting married just for an excuse to wear it…almost.

Last time we visited New York, we came across Nordstrom Rack in Brooklyn and the boy has bored everyone with stories of his bargain Hugo Boss watch ever since. So then, you can imagine his delight (and maybe even mine) when we stumbled out of the Union Square subway and into the main Nordstrom Rack outlet on 14th Street. It was two days after Christmas and it was a Saturday, meaning the stars had aligned so that not only was it new stock day, but also that the post-Christmas sales were in full swing. While the boy boosted his watch collection with some Diesel, Michael Kors and Hugo Boss, I didn’t do too badly either.

Having successfully avoided the Michael Kors watch phenomenon that has been sweeping the western world, I finally had to cave when faced with this chunky timepiece at a price that worked out around £40 (I told you here that the place was a goldmine!). /home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/32b/52477198/files/2015/01/img_4662.jpg

I also picked up silk dresses in maroon and cream (above) and some Sam Edelman suede boots; my black suede Ash Jalouse boots have been worn to death and these Sam Edelman Posy lovelies (below) are the perfect replacement to see me through the seasons.

Steve Madden is one of my favourite footwear brands and I always make a point of visiting the New York store. I picked up these flat leopard lovelies, sky high zip detail boots and bondage-esque strappy sandals (very 50 Shades of Grey, don’t you think?) – all for less than $100. American brands are crazy cheap in New York, compared to here in the UK, and althought the exchange rate of years gone by makes me want to sob at having missed out, there are still bargains to be had – especially in the sales.


Finally, while resting my weary feet and nursing a coffee in the window of Starbucks, I spotted it across the street; Neiman Marcus Last Call. This place exceeded my wildest expectations! Alexander McQueen, Derek Lam, 3.1 Phillip Lim, Burberry, Balmain, Alexander Wang…it was heaven in Brooklyn. I kind of don’t want to give the secret away, but this place is amazing.

It was a Neiman Marcus Last Call that I found my favourite buy, perhaps ever. This ridiculously sexy rose gold Burberry watch is mine for keeps and I love it. It weighs an absolute ton and the quality is obvious. Retails in Selfridges UK for £1,195 – Neiman Marcus price? $305! God I love it – GOD BLESS AMERICA!


My little sales binge sowed such sweet rewards. With 2015 finally upon us, I’m going to make the most of my new buys, avoid the high street for a while and save some pennies for an American encore.

New York I Love You…but I love your shopping more

Getting Lippy with Lulu Guinness

Just LOOK at this!


When my sister said she was coming to bring my present two days early because she was too excited to wait, I knew it must be pretty good. And oh it is! I’ve wanted the Lulu Guinness Lips Clutch forever and now it is finally mine. I love it and if it was socially acceptable to use it everyday (I’m talking going work, nipping to Asda and other boring life instances) then I totally would. For now though, it is coming with me to New York, where we will have fun and festive frolics together fuelled by wine and pizza slices.

Best. Sister. Ever.

Getting Lippy with Lulu Guinness