Life

Side volume for comparison

The Holy Grail for fine-haired women!

I have fine, fine, baby hair. If you have such hair and you’re ok with it then I’m thrilled for you, but I can only describe my hair as thin and also crappy. Realising the LIE of most famous women’s hair- that even a full barnet is usually enhanced by extensions, I’m looking at you Kate Middleton- has helped my pain a little. But the fact remains that my hair is poker-straight, ‘lank’ is not too harsh a word most days, and it’s prone to being weighed down by product so it’s a constant balancing act to get the combination right. And even when that happens, an hour later it’s flat-to-head.

When I went for a haircut November last year and asked for ‘shoulder-length’, I was nearly inconsolable when she cut it to my chin. It’s not a flattering length on me, having such a round face, and it meant losing a good 6-8 inches, around half of which I had not intended to lose. “Oh well”, I thought, “at least I’ll be able to get some volume in my hair again”. NU-UH. Taking care of my hair, regularly colouring it, and using decent products means that my mane is as healthy as it’s ever been, which makes it even more difficult to style. If that sounds illogical, just think about how much easier it is to get volume and texture into hair with broken bits and messed-up hair shafts. Stupid healthy hair was doing me no favours.

Not the length I wanted, but at least she gave me a terrible blow-dry as well!
Not the length I wanted, but at least she gave me a terrible blow-dry as well! FLAT.

With the exception of following the advice of the hairdresser who proclaimed to 15 year old me that “only a perm will help!”, I have tried almost everything. I dry my hair upside-down, which for me has always got the closest to root-lift that I’ll ever see, but for a special occasion I’ll get the Remington Big Hair out. It’s not a game-changer but I find it using at the just-drier-than-towel-dried stage, with a blowdry lotion or spray can have a good lifting result. Never use mousse with the Big Hair though, or you’l end up with a knot the size of your fist.

When it comes to volumising shampoos and conditioners, I have used A LOT of them, cheap and pricey. Whenever I think something is making a difference, it’s not long before the effect wears off and I’m back to limp hair. I have tried all the usual suspects: Bumble & Bumble, Ojon, Philip Kingsley, Percy & Reed, most of the brands they sell in Boots. Until recently, I was exclusive with TIGI Bed Head Epic Volume and we were very happy together. It makes my hair marginally more voluminous than not using it, and by buying the large 750ml sizes, it’s actually insanely cheap and convenient too. But it’s not the change I want to see in the world.

I like this stuff, but at £21 for the two I think it represents good value too...
I like this stuff, and at £22 for the two I think it represents good value too…

In the last month (six weeks probably) there have been two main things that have changed. The first is that after a year of trying to grow my hair to shoulder-length, I’ve realised that I need to give in and live with the bob. I got the first haircut that I’ve been happy with for aaaages (thanks weird Chris at the Toni & Guy near work…) and I finally tried L’Oreal Fibrology. I’m not going to go on about it but after Sali Hughes recommended Firbology and I realised that I’d been using the Thickness Booster too often in the shower (it’s only supposed to be twice a week), I am now very impressed by the results. But shampoo and conditioner alone can only do so much. I need much, much more…

The much more is styling product. Before I do anything, I prep with a primer. I know this sounds like a needless step but I genuinely have found that it helps my ‘style’ to have staying power. It’s not a cheap product but a very small amount goes a long way (yes, really) and although the Living Proof one has achieved cult status, lots of people prefer Percy & Reed Perfectly Perfecting Wonder Balm and I bloody love it.

I know it's £18, but I got mine free from a magazine... If in doubt, buy from QVC so you can send it back if you hate it
I know it’s £18, but I got mine free from a magazine… If in doubt, buy from QVC so you can send it back if you hate it

Too much mousse will overload my hair and ultimately make it greasy, but lotions, sprays, volumising oil, and the like just aren’t enough to get any real hold into my hair. I’ve tried combinations of products for years but when I finally stumbled across TIGI Bed Head Small Talk (currently £7.99) and gave it a go, I realised that the consistency is different to anything I’ve tried before. It’s got a sticky, elastic quality to it that bouffs up my hair; the first time I used it was a revelation and it has been ever since. You can even get a mini travel version for around a fiver, but you have to keep looking as it often sells out.

I COULD NOT LOVE THIS STUFF MORE
I COULD NOT LOVE THIS STUFF MORE

The Small Talk is good teamed with TIGI Bed Head Superstar Queen for a Day Thickening Spray, but it’s awesome teamed with £1.49 super-product, Boots Essential Extra Firm Hold Mousse.  When Sali Hughes recommended it on her 50 Best Beauty Buys Under £20 earlier this year, I could not have been more cynical, but this stuff is a freaking god-send. The staying power of a mousse, with the weird elastic alien consistency of the Small Talk, is a winning combination and I can see the actual root-lift hours later. Try it- I beg you.

Straight after blow-drying. Yes, I have a vest on
Straight after blow-drying. Yes, I have a vest on

Just before I blow-dry (upside down, and after my fringe has been done separately) I use a teeny bit of the L’Oreal Fibrology Serum on my ends. It makes me feel like I’m fully committing to the Fibrology regime, and having my ends a bit silkier so I can straighten them helps give my hair the illusion of thickness. I want root lift, but wispy ends can undermine your whole effort.

Quite a good fringe...
Quite a good fringe…

After blow-drying, I tip my head upside-down and spray some VO5 Plump It Up Dry Backcomb Spray (a bargain product that lasts forever) or Colab Dry Shampoo, which I’ve stockpiled at home. I also really like TRESemme Texture Style Devine Definition Spray for adding a little definition to my layers, but you must be sparing with it. A light spray, at about half arm’s length, leave it a few seconds then run your fingers through your layers. I then, of course, finish with hairspray. I’m a die-hard TREsemme Freeze Spray fan but a lighter hairspray in this case is no bad thing. I like Fudge Skyscraper, which is around £9 but cheaper stuff will do just as well, I’m sure.

And finally, the acid test. Does my hair, after the commute, windy London, and a day in the office, still have a bit of oomph left? Yes, for THE FIRST TIME EVER, I can confirm that my hair actually has some life at 5pm. Those with genuinely fine hair will know how rare this is. I am going to stockpile all of these babies! Never. Going. Back.

Hours later! Crap picture, but baby fine hair that still has some life
Hours later! Crap picture, but baby fine hair that still has some life
Why so surprised...?
Why so surprised…?
Side volume for comparison
Side volume for comparison
Category: Life, Style
heart sand

We only ever argue about two things…

As I was getting ready to go out this afternoon, it occurred to me that M and I argue about only two things: ‘issues’ and ‘dinner’. I recognise, of course, that we’ve been together under two years and that there are plenty of things just round the corner that can cause schisms and upset. But we also haven’t had an easy time of it, with life-threatening illness and bereavement causing stress and pulling us closer together in our first year. The first few months of our relationship reflected pretty well the intense people that we can definitely be. And for the most part we rode those waves and continue to do so, whereas add in a political concept after a night out and we’ll entertain the whole carriage.

Ahh, argument lubricant!
Ahh, argument lubricant!

Obviously booze plays a part- we both love a drink and we go to a lot of comedy and gigs together so the journey home is like drunken Question Time with only lefties. But to be honest, we can argue about this stuff all day and all night, sober. And so often we barely disagree with each other but we’re both such irritating Guardian readers that we have to debate the details for an entire journey home. I remember the first time: I don’t know where we were coming home from but I know we argued the entire way, and for about an hour and a half when we got in, about whether  as a terrorist it was ever justified to use civilians as targets. I dare say we went round and round the same arguments for hours but neither of us could believe what the other was saying. Other recent examples include a row about whether it is ok to give money to a beggar, bearing in mind that it’s more effective to give to charities that support the homeless. And Saturday’s argument was over whether M would characterise himself as a feminist or not. Leftwingproblems.

The other thing we argue about is much trickier to work through because it combines the thing that we’re both pretty good at- communicating honestly with each other- and the thing we’re not- expressing what we want when we know it contradicts what the other wants.  We argue, regularly and with tears, about where to eat dinner. In the past. We both play down where we want to go and try to be flexible, and the other doesn’t know we’re doing it and resentment builds. Minor, petty resentment that we find it hard to put into words and then comes spilling out after a bottle and a half of rosé. The anger that we’ve compromised and the other doesn’t appreciate it.

I love eating out! But this pasta sucked!
I love eating out! But this pasta sucked!

My part in all this is that I cannot state my preference without overwhelming guilt. As I sit here, that sounds bizarre and I can’t explain it, but in the moment it’s the most ridiculous thing- I can’t say “M, I don’t feel like Nando’s”.  If it’s something he fancies then I just really want him to have that and I feel uncomfortable arguing for my own preferences. Part of this will be that I come from such a close-knit group of women, who double-check and re-confirm at every step of the decision-making process, that I partly expect someone to argue for my choice even if I’m not. I also have some messy little self-worth issues that play in to it. And what of M? He’s so much happier than me to say what he wants and yet it seems he still doesn’t.

But we’re making progress. It’s finally, after the last argument we had, out in the open and being talked about more fully. I’m not sure why this has taken so long but I guess every relationship is a work in progress. I think we’re both aware that it extends to other things, like our hobbies and the films we want to watch, but we just have to be more frank with each other. It’s the sort of small flaw in a relationship that if we don’t nip in the bud, can extend to how we spend our weekends, holidays, and beyond. Neither of us are passive aggressive in general at all but it’s a symptom of knowing we’re both opinionated people, I think, that finds us trying to rein ourselves in. Thankfully we’ll probably never stop debating the minutiae of lefwing politics- which is fine as that’s what makes us us.

Category: Life
me in a jumper

I never make New Year’s Resolutions… except this year I made three of the bloody things

In general I don’t make New Year’s resolutions. I used to make them, and most Januarys I definitely need to slow down on the cheese and spending, but then I see a Whistles coat in the sale, and arrange many dinners because I have such horror at the idea of Boring January, and so resolutions don’t seem to have any relevance for me. If I want to make a change, I reason, why not make it when I decide it’s worth making, rather than waiting for the calendar to tick over to the next year? I know Christmas excesses play a part but all in all, I just can’t be doing with it.

One of the aformentioned Whistles coats... in Berlin!
One of the aformentioned Whistles coats… in Berlin!

Except that this year, I am. My 2014 included moving in with M, our first holiday together, and all that those exciting things involve. We’ve had a bloody good time but a few small tweaks need to be made, and after a post-Christmas period that saw me rolling around with insanely painful stomach problems, I’m ready to do some housekeeping.

Read more books

I read all the time. Moving to East London, I’ve shaved around 30 mins off my former commute but I’m still looking at a minimum of an hour and a half door-to-door. As soon as I get a seat on the tube my Kindle gets whipped out. I never don’t have a book on the go, and I like to read last thing at night too. However, that commute is a killer. On top of this, I’m usually pretty tired in the morning as my need for kip is closer to the cat’s average hours asleep than a humans’. So I get tired, and I get lazy, re-reading beloved crime novels because it’s fun. But learning stuff is fun too, and feeds the mind; it’s why I listen to a Woman’s Hour podcast most days, and then go home and bore M with what I’ve found out. I was lucky enough to get  Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay and What Should We Tell Our Daughters? by Melissa Benn for Christmas, and I have The Book of Jezebel, Lena Dunham’s essays, and lots of other lovely Feminist tomes waiting for me on the IKEA Kallax it took me three hours to put together. So my very first resolution, after such an awesome Christmas haul, was to make inroads into my book collection ay-sap.

I currently am one
I currently am one

Clean my face, FFS!       

When I was at university, I had for a while a dalliance with what we will call A Very Low Maintenance Look. Beanie hat, baggy jeans, hair tied up- you get the picture. But regardless of sartorial misfires, the five-minute walk from Mile End tube station to the college did horrendous things to my skin, and my forehead in particular was a dry, sore mess. I tried a lot of lotions and moisturisers but when your skin is angry and irritated- and I’m talking dry and slightly sensitive skin, not the type that needs specialist advice- you have to start with how you clean your skin. When I was in my skin crisis all those years ago I finally found Liz Earle Cleanse & Polish, and my skin became the skin I always knew (hoped) it could be! But, for the same reason that I’ve been stuck in a rut literature-wise, I’ve skipped Liz far too many times over the past few months in favour of a quick-fix face-wash.

Me without make-up. Believe it or not, it could be worse.
Me without make-up. Believe it or not, it could be worse.

Made up of all sorts of botanical goodies, and no nasty stuff, Liz Earle products are calming and hydrating, and I don’t actually know of anyone who hasn’t tried them and benefited. The wonderfully soothing Cleanse & Polish is put on to dry skin and then taken off with a hot cloth or flannel and the Tonic that follows boosts your skin further. I feel distinctly less scaly after a few days of using Liz Earle.  While handy in an emergency, I really hate cleansing wipes but use one- or my personal favourite, micellar water on cotton pads- before you hot-cloth-cleanse and you’ll find your cloths look less like they’ve been dipped in clay. My skin isn’t thanking me for my skin care rut at all, and I know what the right thing to do is so I’m making the change. Again.

The LEGENDARY Liz Earle Cleanse & Polish
The LEGENDARY Liz Earle Cleanse & Polish

Lose weight (YAWN)

Yeah, sorry: predictability claxon. One of the most pretentious reasons that I don’t usually make resolutions is the fact that I don’t want to be the same as everyone else: I want to make my decisions, when I want to make them, and anyway January’s such a downer after Christmas so why do dry/diet/gym with a gazillion other sheep? But this year, like every other bloody person, I am back logging in to MyFitnessPal, firmly attached to my Fitbit, and counting every last calorie and step I can. And what’s extra galling is that I did all this before, and it worked. And then I drank all the beer.

On holiday in 2013, when I was very happy with my weight... then I ate a few too many of these delicious treats
On holiday in 2013, when I was very happy with my weight… then I ate a few too many of these delicious treats

Of course my relationship with my weight is weird, complicated, and uncomfortable- isn’t most people’s? In 2011, a year after leaving a job in which I was truly miserable, I was ready to make some positive changes, and after a work trip to Copenhagen produced some photos I’d be quite keen to never see again, I finally decided I was in the right place to lose weight slowly, healthily, and positively. I lost two dress sizes and at 5’11” and a size 16, I felt superb. Of course if I could click my fingers I would have liked to be a size 14 (I’d try things on in The Kooples!), but everything I had told myself and not quite believed was actually true. A sexy, confident weight for me was at a size 16 and fuck what the rest of the world says- this was my skinny. It took me two years to lose two stone, but I was very happy and spent many of my hard earned GBP in beautiful shops like COS. My style developed and I had a new way of carrying myself. And I met M, which I truly believe that old me couldn’t have done, as old me didn’t think she deserved it. But I’m now about 7lb off being right back to where I started and I can still taste how good it was to feel confident and relaxed in my clothes. And I have a wardrobe full of them to prove it! Getting that weight back off isn’t an attempt to fit in to other people’s idea of how I should look or what I should wear, but I can’t wait to get back in to some of the beautiful Scandinavian goodies I own and walk tall: I did it before and I know I can do it again.

A pic of me drinking? WHAT A SHOCK
A pic of me drinking? WHAT A SHOCK

So, my usual resolution of not making resolutions has been broken! I am a predictable sheep, bleating her way into 2015 and browsing workout gear at lunchtime. Writing this piece has really highlighted to me how much I need to concentrate on getting more and better sleep, so I can give energy to the things that I need and enjoy, and I know that I have to focus a little better on my health.  Soon I’ll be sick of calories and ‘active minutes’, as will everyone who knows me, but for now I’m happy to have taken back control of my life, muslin cloth in hand…

Category: Life
Luke Barnatt

Cage fighting for girls

When M mentioned in his online dating profile that he liked ‘mixed martial arts’, I barely registered it.  I feel that way about most sport; not fundamentally opposed, just vaguely indifferent.  Yes, anything that gives me an excuse to go to a pub, and drink and shout has a certain appeal, but I’ve just never found it in myself to really care.  So with this mention of ‘cage fighting’ pretty much ignored in favour of the many other noteworthy statements on his profile- veritably overflowing with noteworthy statements as it was- we exchanged messages, texts, we met, and we were pretty much together, give or take a couple of conversations, from that point on.  Little did I know, the spectre of this ‘cage fighting’ loomed, and it loomed large.

The closest thing to mixed martial arts (or ‘MMA’ if you’re an acronym enthusiast) I’d ever watched was a few rounds of boxing. I’ve never found it particularly hard to understand why people enjoy boxing; whether it’s a sport you like or not, watching two athletes take part in something so skilled yet fundamentally, well, kind of barbaric, is something I can see the appeal of.  I’ve just never liked the feeling; the enthusiasm for wanting to see one man beaten into submission by another.  I don’t want to bay for blood!  Traditionally, I’ve disengaged and removed myself from the room.  In the populist view, take away the ‘gentlemanly’ rules of boxing and you have cage fighting: no rules, bloody, akin to human cock fighting (that might be something different altogether, come to think of it). Amoral.  Without a doubt, the most palatable and easy introduction to MMA is the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC).  And that’s where all your preconceptions seem to implode.

Davey Grant, of TUF 18, cornering at Cage Warriors. I think he looks pretty scared.
Davey Grant, of TUF 18, cornering at Cage Warriors. I think he looks pretty scared.

They have lights!  They fill massive sporting venues!  They have celebrities in the audience!  The UFC is the sort of production that makes it easy to acquiesce and say reluctantly “go on….”. I didn’t become a fan right there and then, and I didn’t fill with excitement at the idea of sitting down to watch ‘the fighting’ on a regular basis.  But the barrier was gone.  My inner geek had been teased out and had seen a whole world of boring stats to learn, and a cast of heroes and villains to get to know. A whole subject I’d never given a moment’s thought to, but that there is just so damn much to know about. You have two men matched to fight; weighing up to 19st, whose muscle and mass can be completely different, who are inches apart in height, and have completely different skills.  There’s racial diversity like you’d see in barely any other sport.  It’s easier for the rich kids who can afford to train all the time, of course, but there’s fighters from every background, country, and class. Wiry little fighters like angry whippets, waiting for the opportunity to grab their opponent and wrestle him to the ground. Heavyweights who slug it out for five rounds, each with knockout power but barely able to stand at the end. And so my introduction to the weird and wonderful world of MMA was a headlining middleweight title fight on a UFC event. A fight that was a proper game changer, an upset, an iconic battle between Anderson ‘The Spider’ Silva and Chris Weidman.  It took that fight to expunge those feelings of middle-class guilt and unease with combat sports: I wasn’t sold, but the line had been crossed.

There are amusing and eloquent characters in MMA, as there are in every sport and especially in a promotion like the UFC that is shown on Fox in the US. They’ve got the money to throw at supporting programmes and hype that can showcase fighters’ personalities, skills, and rivalries.  It has the advertising and sponsorship revenues, and is able to invest in huge Vegas events.  That’s not to say that other promotions, like Cage Warriors and BAMMA in Europe, aren’t fun too, they just don’t have the ridiculous glitz and faux-respectability of the UFC.  But that’s not what’s drawn me in.  That can all be fun, and I’ve watched some fights that had me on the edge of my seat and looking from between the fingers I’m hiding behind, but the thing that gets me excited, the thing that makes me actively go and read this here and that there, are the women fighters.

Amanda Kelly was so lovely, even though she'd lost her fight that night.
Amanda Kelly was so lovely, even though she’d lost her fight that night.

Only fighting in the UFC since March 2013, women MMA fighters have, I imagine, had that same hard road that so many female athletes do in comparison to their male counterparts.  Lack of interest from the public, fewer chances to compete, next to no prospect of making a living from the sport.  But with the UFC’s purchase of Strikeforce, a rival promotion, and the establishment of a women’s division in both the UFC and Cage Warriors, it’s all starting to change. There’s also an all women MMA promotion called Invicta that was starting to gain traction globally before it was snapped up by the UFC. It’ll be weak for a while as the pickings will be slim, and there will inevitably be fights that allow dumb-bone MMA fans to continue to dismiss female fighters.  But, competitors like ‘Rowdy’ Ronda Rousey, an Olympic judoka and a big enough star in the US to be launching her Hollywood career with appearances in The Expendables and Fast & Furious franchises, will pave the way for a generation of female fighters.  And as a woman in love with a man who loves fighting, and a feminist who sees the work we still have to do on equality in this world, it’s quite exciting to see how these women are going to get on in such a male-dominated arena.   And if that’s the way I have to sell to myself the reality of watching women break each other’s arms, then, for now, so be it.

Ronda is my favourite! And she's getting better all the time..
Ronda is my favourite! And she’s getting better all the time..

Epilogue: I wrote this in January 2014 and apart from a few additions and edits, it’s the same article I originally put together. However, I have since found myself enjoying MMA more and more. I’ve loved going along to the events- UFC, Cage Warriors, and BAMMA- and I’m loving having my personal favourites and developing my own knowledge and opinions. With the launch of season 20 of the UFC’s reality TV show The Ultimate Fighter, which is all-female and will crown a straw-weight champion at the end, women’s MMA is bigger and more exciting than ever. We’ve just seen world-class boxer Holly Holm signed to the UFC in the same weight class as Ronda Rousey and Cat Zingano returned last night after almost a year and a half away, and great personal tragedy, to a convincing, exciting, and emotional victory.

When I wrote this piece my interest in Mixed Martial Arts was just beginning, and it was an exciting new world. I don’t feel that the piece above is my best writing, but I did want to be true to those initial feelings and put it up. Eight months later, this is a sport that has really captured my imagination, and I can’t imagine this is the last you’ll hear about it from me…. Who knows- if you give it a go, you might surprise yourself!

You can read my TUF 20 episode reviews over on Schpunk!

The TUF 20 fighters! I am LOVING it!
The TUF 20 fighters! I am LOVING it!

 

Picture credits:
Ronda Rousey – USA Today

TUF 20 Cast – Wombat Sports

 

 

Category: Life
wrap

Food! Cheat’s halloumi wraps

I’m almost embarrassed to even post this; it’s barely a recipe. But it might inspire you to use what’s left in your fridge, and if you take nothing else away, do take this: chapattis work as amazing wraps, and are easy to keep as they freeze brilliantly but tend to have a three-month shelf life anyway.

You’ll need:
- a pack of halloumi
- chapati/roti
- houmous
- chilli jam
- salad (preferably something peppery like a watercress and rocket but anything would work)
- a griddle pan (or some sort of George Foreman, or a frying pan at a push)

I’ve found that 2/3 of a pack of halloumi will work for four wraps, if you cut it thinner and put more in, but for a more hearty wrap I would allow half a pack for two big wraps, and cut it into chunkier slabs.

Heat up your griddle pan. Seriously, these are the best so if you don’t have one, get on it. They add a little bit of colour and texture to your food, and often you don’t need any oil. When hot, put your sliced halloumi on the griddle and fry on both  sides until brown, toasty, and yummy.

hubba hubba!
hubba hubba!

When browned, set aside and turn the heat right down. Pop a chapati on the pan and it’ll be warmed by the time you’ve got a plate out of the cupboard. This is absolutely the key to manipulating wraps for stuffing; warm them and they’re tasty and pliable, otherwise they’re a bit dull and they break when you try to, well, wrap them.

I even heated this one from frozen; too damn easy
I even heated this one from frozen; too damn easy

Two generous tablespoons of houmous, some blobs of chilli jam- once you buy this stuff you’ll be amazed you ever lived without it, and it’s really not hot- a BIG handful of salad, and the halloumi. The chapati provides a depth of flavour that’s way better than a boring old white wrap, and it holds up well to being stuffed and held. You can really easily adapt this idea to save some calories with reduced fat houmous and halloumi, without sacrificing flavour.

construction!
construction!

One pan, easy-peasy, and really tasty.

Working from home lunch, with Wallander
Working from home lunch, with Wallander
Category: Life