GUYS. This sunshine we’ve been having in London. I can’t even. (Stag jumps in with a joke: “Can you odd?” ….. *eye roll *). The problem is, you start convincing yourself it will be this way forever, and next thing you know, you’re taking this rare glimpse of sunshine for granted. Which is why my forever ‘Sunshine FOMO’ (as I endearingly call it) always propels me to get outside every sunny day that shines in London. Not just go outside, but go outside in that one outfit you know you can’t wear on a rainy day. My outfit of spring blues & striped mules is my sartorial answer to “What personifies a sunny Spring day?”
This post is an ode to the Land of the Free, where quite literally, you are free to order 40 oz (1136.52 ml) of milkshake from ColdStone Creamery in one giant cup, because it’s your god-given right to do so. A summation of 7.5 years of living abroad as an expat where — whenever anyone asks me what I miss most about America, and they expect me to say, you know, ‘family and friends’ — my immediate response is “Dunkin Donuts Coconut Iced Coffee” with my eyes just a bit too wide with wistfulness. Having just returned from my East Coast trip, this post is about the 5 things I miss most about America. My forever homeland, the purveyor of fatty foods and elevator chats, and the place I relish in both loving and mocking. Mostly loving.
This post is a mix of things. Firstly, I’m jet-lagged, thus fuelling a state of total non-productivity (which of course excludes activities such as browsing the ASOS sale and watching SATC reruns). Secondly, I’m behind on my blog posting schedule, which always makes me anxious. And thirdly, there’s a semblance of warm outside, bolstering an incessant need to buy new and update everything I own. Combined, this leads me to trawl Pinterest looking for pretty pictures of summery leaf-print interiors, curbing my appetite to buy new things. Thanks Pinterest.
If I’m honest, I don’t know how this post happened. Suddenly I’m standing outside in March, bare-legged, wearing not just a dress (le gasp) but a dress with trainers. Normal Eire could never pull this off. Normal Eire looks kinda frumpy in most un-cinched dresses. Normal Eire always admires those street style stars who look oh-so-chic and cool in the dress-and-trainer combo, but knows that on her, it mostly makes he legs look squat. But lo and behold: legs! Dress! Trainers! There’s only one magical explanation for such rarities: the awe-inspiring power of this red gingham dress.
This post is a little more life-rambling than most of my usual ones, but bear with me. It’s something I just want to get off my chest and talk about with you, my friends. This post is all about regrets, and why I don’t really have them anymore — mostly because I found Stag, and I just assume all roads led to that life-partner fork-in-the-road.
Sure, I have small ones here and there. For example: “Why on earth did I grab that boiling-hot bowl of baked beans from the microwave without oven mitts?” which I now say to myself bitterly whenever I remember we only have 4 actual bowls left in the flat. And yes, I am pretty much ‘Queen of FOMO.’ But life-altering regrets? I used to – financial ones, career ones, perhaps even moving to the UK ones – but not anymore.