Review: Homeland Season 3 (contains spoilers)

Posted by Judy Johnson On Monday, 23 December 2013 23:37 0 comments
**WARNING - full of spoilers and crossness at season three finale so don't read it if you haven't seen it yet, or if you dislike people disliking things.**

I've had 24 hours to think about it (and to stop crying), and I've decided, I am still cross about Homeland's season 3 finale. What the hell were they thinking? 

At first, I thought they were right. Brody has definitely used up all his lives and really, to keep it realistic they had to kill him off. 

But then I thought back to the rest of the series and how very irritating it is that they didn't do more with him while they still had him. For weeks I defended it on Twitter, as loyal followers slammed season 3 for having 'lost the plot' or for becoming boring and way too Dana-focused. I thought it was all part of a bigger plan, but then realised there were just a few episodes left and began to question where it was leading. Never did I think it would finish the way it did.  

I was never a Dana fan but I thought that the huge amount of screen time she had at the start was building up to something - more than just that rubbish 2 minutes of him seeing her at her new place and her mentioning that maybe he should have thought of whether she even wanted to see him before knocking. Really, was that all we get?

Because the other thing that bothers me is that they kill off the main character, have the audacity to jump to four months later and don't even show a hint of how his family felt about it all. After all that Dana nonsense, we don't even get to see how she reacts to his execution? I realise we don't need to watch a family mourn for hours on end but a little acknowledgment that he was a father, a husband, as well as a marine-turned-terrorist-turned-CIA-asset would have been nice. 

All in all it felt rushed, yet felt like a finale for the whole series rather than just a season. They had all this time to develop Brody's next steps and instead we didn't see him for weeks, then suddenly he does a crazy murder mission, walks out and is dead 24 hours later. Hours before, he'd learned he was about to become a father again and had made it sound like it was something worth living for - then as soon as he was captured he was all 'Nah, I'm ready to die now.' Infuriating. 

The execution, too, was harrowing to watch - angry Daily Mail reports are saying even Claire Danes found it hard to look at when acting - and I genuinely thought some sniper (perhaps Quinn. WHERE WAS QUINN?) might pop in, Kevin Costner Robin Hood  Prince of Thieves stylee, and shoot at the crane till poor old Brody was released and on his merry way. Yes, I have quite the imagination. I thought Damian Lewis did an incredible job but the simplicity of it all made it so much harder to watch. The general acceptance that what was going to happen was unstoppable made me more upset than anything else - and I think if they'd not rushed it so much they could have made this more interesting, more touching, and if possible more dramatic. 

ALSO. It massively bothered me that the most sentimental, caring lines - the only lines that really said 'Yeah, the fact he has to die is really quite shit' - came from Javadi. You know, the guy that stabbed his wife in the neck with a broken bottle until she died. Nice fella. Really? His comment about 'not just being one thing' may have been a hint that actually, as well as being a cold blooded murderer he has feelings too but come on, it's more far fetched than when they didn't spot Carrie's positively luminous hair in that dark field. 

I loved what he said to Carrie - I thought it was one of the most moving scenes in terms of script. But that should have come from Saul or even Quinn (seriously, MORE QUINN), who has fast become a rather moral, and of course hot, friend to Carrie. If Saul had said it, it could have started to pave their relationship back to what it was - since the two of them stopped trusting each other it's become harder and harder to like Saul at all (and I still thought he was the mole all this time). Plus, the even sadder part was that Javadi was wrong. Everyone didn't see Brody through her eyes - Lockhart refused him a star (and I'm sure others would have backed him on it).

Ah, Lockhart. My other big problem. That utter twerp who the writers really worked well throughout the series to portray as a totally out of touch loon who should never be in charge of anything. He's in charge and four months later everything's wonderful? As if. And then, just to make sure we really get angry, he promotes Carrie - that idiot who has been so incompetent her own colleague shot her to stop her from messing up. Who is also about to go on maternity leave. You don't have to believe in sexism to know that that is the most unlikely ending possible. 

I'm gutted. Gutted that Brody won't be back, that Carrie isn't going to play happy families and that we'll probably see more of Dana in season four in a delayed reaction to her dad's demise. I would have preferred season 3 to go slower, have Brody found earlier, and play out his/Javadi's plans over the course of a few episodes. 

There are so many bits of the puzzle of season 3 that feel either pointless or not tied up, too. I'll be watching next season, but only to see whether I'm right about Saul and whether Quinn gets to be on screen more. In losing Brody, it's lost a lot of its magic. RIP. 


The decline of mags... and the one I can't put down

Posted by Judy Johnson On Sunday, 15 September 2013 21:21 0 comments
Last weekend I sat curled up on the sofa for two hours, devouring Red magazine from cover to cover. Including their Twitter section in which my tweet praising Rosie Green's column was included - and it's not the first time my comments have been featured.

I'm beginning to feel like a bit of a Red mag groupie, truth be told. Since reading my first issue I have tweeted through it, Instagrammed my favourite quotes and shoots and generally overshared my adoration for it to anyone who'll listen. But as a writer, and as a reader, I think it's good to share praise of what is the downward spiralling mag industry. Though the fact it's SO worth commenting on is perhaps most telling of all; before the Internet would we have been as complimentary when discovering a good read? I'd argue not.

The ABC figures recently revealed the stark truth of today's print media; most mags are plummeting, most surprisingly including the likes of Company who have had massive design and content overhauls. Though actually, I'm one of the readers who has abandoned them; an unread pile of subscription copies leading me to guiltily cancelling because their new web and blog-friendly content didn't feel like anything I would miss if I just, say, went on their site.

Red, if I can act as a groupie again, is different. I don't care much for their website; it doesn't grab me but to be honest, none of the mag sites do. But the magazine is packed full of writers I respect, whether I've read them before or not; it has well written, lengthy features on subjects I am interested in and have to mark with post-its to make sure I look up a site, a book, a writer when I'm done. It has interesting cover girls and plenty of humour; it doesn't assume you have babies but it also doesn't talk to you, Single Woman, in a way that suggests you are either madly career driven or desperate for a man. It assumes, without pretentiousness or patronisation, that we can and should have it all.

And it's for these reasons that I don't think the mag industry will disappear. Those two hours were the most calm I'd been all week; it felt indulgent but was also inspiring, I learned, I enjoyed it, and best of all it wasn't on a screen. Yes, other people will want different things from a mag - I know smart businesswomen who love their Grazia fix and I know journalists who will always look to Vogue as their bible - but that's why I think a lot of the mags out there can survive.

From the Internet, I want niche destinations - like the site I work for where health and beauty is our expertise - because if I'm going to read something short and fast I only want to read from the experts. Who has time to filter (Google) through them all? That's why mag sites have never really captured me; there's too much being covered and not in a particularly good way. There's often far more celeb content than is in print (I'm not a fan) and there's rarely thoughtful, inspiring content.

The numbers obviously disagree with me but though I think some will inevitably fail, the success stories, I hope, will be the likes of Red who understand their changing reader in the era of the internet, careers, feminism and general life today, but who don't change what ultimately they always stood for: good writing and engaging content. That's all we really want, no matter where we read. 

Specs appeal... or not

Posted by Judy Johnson On Wednesday, 4 September 2013 20:56 1 comments
Just because.
I had a thought the other day: what must it be like to be able to see in the shower? I can't remember the last time I looked down at my toes in there and could see them. All I see is a peachy blur, which makes it particularly awkward/scary when you've heard something drop and you're blatantly about to step on a razor.

People don't really talk about eyesight. I realised this when I was looking online for fashion trends of glasses in the hope I would find some inspiration for my next overdue prescription upgrade. I couldn't find anything, save for a few advertorials claiming a hideous colourful tortoiseshell was all the rage for this season (with no catwalk pics to back it up, obviously).

I would do anything to have laser eye surgery. To not have a semi permanent dent on my nose from wearing glasses almost 24/7. To not have to poke my fingers in my eye whenever I'm going out for the night; to not have to awkwardly tell a guy the first time he stays over that, er, I can't see properly the next day without these things on my face.

Sadly I can't have it yet, as my optician bragged to me last time I saw him as if he had won a game. You have to wait for your eyes to stop going more blind you see, and mine just won't stop. 'Without changing your ways, you'll never be able to have it done,' the barely-out-of-school guy quipped. 'You'll have to stop working at a computer. And you don't want them done after you pass 30 as you won't get your money's worth - at 40 they'll go downhill again.'

Great. Thanks, eyesight's answer to the Grim Reaper. Just what every 27 year old wants to hear. There goes my hope of ever snorkelling and being able to see the fish. There goes any hope of wearing decent sunglasses ever again, and there goes my bank balance as I buy yet another pair of overpriced frames that in six months I won't like... Still. I hate feet. Seeing my toes isn't *that* important, is it?

In which case, if anyone can point me towards some nice frames, let me know... 

If you wannabe my lover, you gotta get with my friends...

Posted by Judy Johnson On Thursday, 29 August 2013 22:01 0 comments
OK, that's the cheesiest title I've ever written but when else can you quote Spice Girls? Not often enough, if you ask me... 

Anyway. I've always said that not only can you judge a guy by his friends, but that my friends would have to like anyone I see too, and it seems I'm not on my own; a recent survey by dating site My Single Friend revealed 86% of us think it's important our mates get on with our dates. 

With that in mind, MSF are taking the idea offline with their new events, 'Date My Single Friend' which allow singles to take along a wingman to a speed dating-like night out. Instead of awkward one-on-one conversations, two pairs of friends are at each table and so your mate can help you find Mr or Mrs Right. 

As someone who loathes dates (it's not so much butterflies, more oh-god-I-might-puke) this is music to my ears and, I think, a great idea. The thought of sitting with three other people, one of which you're finding out if you like, is not scary, not intimidating and pretty much sounds like a (successful) night down the pub. I'm sold. 

So, a couple of months after I swore off online dating, I've now cautiously headed back to the first site I ever tried for online dating: MSF. 

The concept of the site makes sense and actually is different from the rest; you can't have a profile until a friend describes you, and this description sits on your profile alongside your response. It's a nice idea because it's pretty hard to sell yourself to potential dates whereas good friends, I've found, are more than happy to do it for you (and it's really weird to see yourself through their eyes). Plus, when reading up on the men on there, it's really interesting to see what their mates say compared to what they say about themselves (sidenote: any guy who then just writes 'Cheers' on their profile is a muppet). 

So far, so not sure - there seem to be a LOT of men on there compared to the sites I was on before but I've only had one or two odd-sounding guys contact me and haven't paid up as yet to see what the message says (why bother unless I like their profile...?). We'll see - but I'm interested, which is more than can be said for last time...

Keep an eye out for the Date My Single Friend events - dates TBC


Babies: a woman's right to choose...

Posted by Judy Johnson On Tuesday, 20 August 2013 14:10 1 comments
Today I watched two women sit with Kate Garraway to debate whether it was selfish for a woman to choose not to have children. Apparently having your own life that doesn't involve squeezing out some sprogs and wiping up after them for 18 years is something to be ashamed of. 

It amazes me that this is even a question in today's society. Just as with the question of 'should gay people be allowed to marry' and such like, I don't understand why we care quite so much about other people's choices. So long as their choices aren't, say, to murder someone, then why do we need to debate it? I don't know about you but I'm far too busy getting through my own life to worry about whether a woman has six kids or jet sets around the world on her tod (and personally, I know which one would be more annoying on an aeroplane).

I think Daybreak (and others) needs to wake up and smell 2013. In my generation choice is the order of the day - thank god. Call it feminism, call it whatever you like but the point is women can almost do what they like these days - they just can't seem to do it without judgement. Have a baby too old, you're deemed selfish. Have one too young and you're immature and probably scrounging off benefits. Don't have one at all and you get the pity head tilt and idiots on Daybreak whose only argument for saying you simply must have kids or else miss out is because 'It's just an amazing experience'. 

Well you know what? People say that about skydiving. People say it about holding a tarantula. People say it about eating a spicy curry. Not everyone likes to do those and nor should they have to just to make society shut up and think they're a good, well rounded person who has lived their life to the full. People are fulfilled by different things and having kids shouldn't have to be an opt-out option. 

I probably sound like I am one of the children-hating (because clearly if you don't have children or want them in your future, you MUST have evil witch-like thoughts towards them) independent women that society so fears. Actually, I'm not sure what I am yet. The thought of kids neither appeals to nor disgusts me but I know for certain I'm not ready for them and am also somewhat missing one of the ingredients considering I'm single, so this works out rather well. Unless you take society's view that is, in which case I might never experience life to the full if I choose the wrong option. Society, frankly, should mind its own business. 

Twitter: where is the love?

Posted by Judy Johnson On Wednesday, 7 August 2013 21:46 0 comments
Pic from 
We all know I am a self-confessed Twitter addict. It's the first thing I check in the morning, the last thing I look at before bedtime, it's where I go when I'm sad, when I'm happy, when I can't sleep, when I need to SHOUT SOMETHING IN CAPITALS to vent frustration. But recently it's turned into some kind of playground where anyone who's anyone is looking for a fight.

And when I say playground I mean full on, bitchy little kids' playground. Like primary school stuff. Attention seeking, bickering and - much worse - bullying; not to mention the far more serious and vile threatening behaviour that led to the police getting involved. Let's not go there.

It's not that this stuff shouldn't be talked about. It's not that this stuff shouldn't get us #ShoutingBack and shutting down those 'trolls' (worst term ever, trivialises the whole thing… sigh) when they act up but can we please, maybe, at some point, give it a rest? Every day it feels like someone's got their pitchfork ready to do battle and is just waiting for something to leap on. Anybody mention feminism? YELL AT THEM. Someone mention interns? YELL AT THEM. Journalist say the word 'blog'? YELL AT THEM. Someone say they like the Blurred Lines song? YELL AT THEM. And repeat. This is what Twitter's like at the moment and it's really bloody boring. Enough of the drama. Drama is for Facebook.

So instead, I've devised a list of the stuff we should go back to that Twitter is good at:

  • LOL cats
  • Louis Walsh jokes (at him, not with him)
  • Tranzizzling shizzle on Gizoogle and sharing dem crazy ass shizzle
  • Telling Katie Hopkins to shut up, Holly Willoughby style
  • Praising Willoughby's boobs in that dress
  • More cats
  • Cats dressed as sharks on hoovers
  • Drunk tweeting emotional rubbish 
  • Telling commuters how to commute like a good commuter, just like you
  • Asking inane questions that Google was actually built for 
  • Posting photos of meals you didn't even make yourself
  • Friends quotes
  • Tweeting through <insert any TV programme here> and spoiling it for anyone who's planning on watching on +1
  • Retweeting a picture of Kate Middleton holding a baby just in case the other million RTs didn't get through
  • Ripping X Factor contestants to shreds (metaphorically speaking, obviously) then doing it all again a week later
  • Complaining about the Daily Mail
  • Breaking news that's already been broken a gazillion times

I could go on. Twitter used to be a happy place full of distraction and fun and in-jokes against those people who think Facebook is the best thing on the internet and that selfies are what Instagram was built for. We need to get back to that brilliant, sarcastic, hilarious place that Twitter used to be.

Until then, I'll rely on Tweetdeck and my list of 'friends' aka 'nice people who don't argue with power users and always make me laugh' to keep me sane. 


Books: The Millennium series by Stieg Larsson

Posted by Judy Johnson On Thursday, 25 July 2013 21:42 0 comments
There really is nothing better, I think, than discovering an incredible writer who not only has a great way with words and a unique way of creating intriguing characters, but is also very, very smart. A lot of the books I've read (and loved) have not necessarily been intelligent works of fiction; more just very entertaining reads. But having just read Stieg Larsson's Millennium series I can happily say they're the smartest novels I've read in years. 

I rarely finish a book and a) feel absolutely gutted that there aren't more and b) start researching the author, but that's what I did after finishing The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets' Nest. It's not that the ending isn't final enough - the books could easily stop there, it had a great finale - but that I'm not quite ready to say goodbye to those characters just yet. Looking up the author and his history, I'm now even more saddened by it as the man behind the books sounds a lot like Blomkvist, the lead male character.

Plots like this one don't come around often; Larsson was an absolute genius and if it's true that there are two more possible books (it seems he'd intended to write ten before he died - all for fun, too) then I can only hope that his widow (though they never married) manages to fill in the blanks in a way he would have wanted and gets them published. If not, then I'll be satisfied with re-reading the trilogy over and over. Lisbeth Salander is one hell of a heroine and even when you know how it ends, the story still grips you every step of the way. 

The man has been labelled an extremist and a feminist; all I can say is he's one of the best writers I've ever come across. 


Frogs and flaws

Posted by Judy Johnson On Sunday, 23 June 2013 18:29 0 comments
Image from Google
We single folk know that to find Mr Perfect we have to meet a few Mr Imperfects along the way (note to couples - it would be nice if you realised this too and stopped giving us a hard time for not finding him yet). But the problem with this, as I have recently discovered, is an issue of self esteem. 

First, you have to feel good enough about yourself to put yourself out there and date in the first place - amazingly, I got to this point again recently and managed to throw myself into dateland yet again. So far, so good. 

But then come the frogs. They're not necessarily bad - hell, you might even like them - but when they don't like you back, or they're not right, there comes a dent in your self esteem that just keeps getting bigger. Every man's failure to text back, every date that ends just a little too soon, every man that doesn't even attempt to flirt with you, hacks away at your already wavering sense of self worth and attractiveness until at some point it's almost non existent. 

After every date that hasn't gone quite as expected, I've been left wondering why… which I know is the most dangerous question in singledom, but it's inevitable. Why wasn't he interested? Why can't I just meet someone I click with? Why was he in such a hurry to leave? Why is this so hard? And then come the answers; the little things you don't like about yourself, that you always hope others won't notice, the things that niggle at you because all your friends seem flawless while you're walking around as one giant flaw. WOE IS ME. 

Obviously, eventually you realise you shouldn't give a crap because they're all Mr Wrong, but still, the damage is done and those dents are there. I've found myself comparing everything I hate about me to everything I love about my friends (and maybe Beyonce, who would totally be my BFF if only she knew I existed) and it's not a good feeling. 

There are only so many rejections a girl can take before it's time to hang up the dating shoes and go frogless for a while - something I'm currently trying. And given that my favourite dating site, Guardian Soulmates, has just inexplicably (literally - no email to notify users) changed its rules so that now to view photos and messages you have to pay up, it couldn't be a better time to give up and get back to enjoying life as a single girl. 

Yes, I'm sad at the constant wedding invitations that make me feel that much more alone; yes, I miss the fun of flirting - but dating? Dating is overrated. Dating involves far too many nerves, far too many hours wasted getting to know someone who doesn't want to know you, and far too many pitying messages from friends who are quick to ask how it went. For now, I'm just me. And while that might not be enough for the men I keep meeting and failing to impress, it's enough for me. 

A quick note about beauty...

Posted by Judy Johnson On Saturday, 22 June 2013 18:06 0 comments
This blog is still a work in progress in that I'm still deciding just what I want to do with it (it's not like it's been live for years or anything) - and so at the moment it's a bit of everything. 

However, I am feeling like it should be more personal, hence all those recent posts about dating, ranting and everything in between. What I have been neglecting is the beauty side - but given that most of my beauty posts are about sensitive skin, I feel these are better left to my new sensitive skin column over at Get the Gloss. There I get to talk to experts, try new treatments and products and pretty much share my ups and downs with skincare in far more detail! 

That's not to say beauty won't pop up here every so often... but a heads up that more rants about life in my twenties might be coming your way.


Dating and the rise of the food snob

Posted by Judy Johnson On Tuesday, 18 June 2013 23:08 0 comments

Things I don't understand about dating number one (billion): why do dating sites want to know what kind of food I like? It's been a question on every site I've joined (there's been a few) and I have still not worked out how it helps me find a date... 

Do I care if a man eats Indian food and I don't? Do I need to know if his favourite meal is a roast dinner? I couldn't care less. We live in a century where it's ok for a woman to order different food to a man. Where it's quite easy (if, maybe, a tiny bit more expensive) to cook two different dinners in the same sitting. I'm sure, just because I don't like peanut butter and he does, that doesn't mean we won't find a compromise on say, pizza. And even if we didn't… what the hell does it matter? So long as we agree on something like politics, morals, sense of humour then I'll be happy. 

That said, I do think my choices can put someone off. On a recent date in which I still couldn't tell how well it was going, the subject of food came up. First, I hate eating on a date; it's awkward and unnecessary. I'll inevitably spill something or choke on something, or like I did at a friend's house when I was about 7, cut into a rather well cooked piece of ketchup-covered sausage and see it fling its way across the floor onto the pristine white carpet in front of horrified eyes. Yeah, that happened. Second, if it's a snack and we are sharing, I hate it when I have to turn down a guy's suggestion of 'spicy [insert any kind of food here]'. I have to explain that I cannot under any circumstances eat chilli and I hate spicy food. This exact conversation happened on said occasion and by the look on my date's face I may as well have said I like to punch kittens for fun. What is it with men and spice?

This food obsession never used to be an issue. If my mum and dad (who are soon to celebrate 40 years of marriage) had attempted to bond over a love of food, his hatred of anything nutty and her love of chocolate covered Brazil nuts would have been a deal breaker. I appreciate that men are far more into cooking now than they were in my mum's day (thank goodness, as I can't cook) but the rise of the ever snobby foodie thanks to endless social sharing of food alongside other factors means they are now very hard to please. I can't stand a food snob. I guess it's just a matter of taste… and they should put *that* in their little online forms. 

Feminism fail: Vagenda Magazine on More! Magazine

Posted by Judy Johnson On Tuesday, 23 April 2013 00:26 2 comments
Today I unfollowed Vagenda Magazine after they tweeted in celebration of the fact More magazine has officially been suspended. They crowed at the fact that another brainless, preaching, make-women-feel-like-crap magazine had bitten the dust, so to speak. Being a journalist and someone who writes in health and beauty (which no doubt means I must fail at being a feminist, for how can one possibly want equality AND a good concealer?), I found this distasteful and stopped following their tweets straight away. 

I've looked back on their account and to give credit where it's due, they handled the amass of criticism well - proof of a good social media manager who stands by their point but puts it across clearly and concisely. They even apologised. Cor. 

But what bugs me is that they're supposed to be standing up for modern feminism and yet they are criticising women who work hard at what they do (I don't know any More workers personally, but I know many who do) and publicly revelling in the fact they no longer have a job.

They did correct this and point out that it's possible to be happy a mag has gone under yet sad at the job losses, but clearly they weren't so sad or respectful about the latter that they could keep their tweets shut and not boast about the former. 

And the former is what is getting to me. They seem to think that women's magazines are oppressive and telling women they're fat, telling them to get on the scales and eat less and cut their hair more and wear these clothes, etc. What I find odd about that, and the fact that they're f-e-m-i-n-i-s-t-s, is that they seem to assume we women have no mind of our own. We just swallow whatever we read. 

I'm not a huge fan of weekly mags myself; they tend to have too much celeb content and I couldn't care two hoots whether Jennifer Aniston's got a wrinkle or if Amanda Bynes has done something even more stupid than last week. Pointing out a spot on a celeb and circling it in big red marker and screaming OMG LOOK! THIS SLEB CAN'T EVEN LOOK AFTER HER SKIN! is not, to my mind, interesting. But that's not the point; there's an audience for it and why shouldn't there be?

The point is, the majority of women think for themselves. Yes, really! Most of the women I know are smart, into health and fitness, keen to know more about nutrition, holding down a career in something they love, and generally more health conscious than, say, my parents' generation who grew up reading the Daily Mail and thinking that red wine and red meat is wholeheartedly good for you. 

So, contrary to popular belief, we don't pick up these magazines and then look in the mirror and cry at how chubby our thighs are. We read them and learn from them. Yes, some are far better than others; though the most expensive mags in the industry are pretty exclusionary in my view, so quality doesn't always come with a higher price. I went into journalism because not only did I love writing, but I grew up reading mags that taught me a few of the things I needed to know growing up. I wanted to wear eyeliner, but how? I wanted to feel more confident, but how? I wanted to become a journalist, but how? 

All questions, whether you think they're trivial or not, answered by writers for teenage girls like me who had crap glasses, bad skin and a slight complex about being so tall. I wanted to be a journalist as I got older because I can answer questions that perhaps I never quite got the answers to. I like to learn. I find that saying I'm a beauty journalist often gets sneered at, and yes, I know I'm not saving the world or writing about politics. But women are interested in this stuff - I should know, I'm one of them. And I'm not ashamed to admit I bloody love writing about makeup. So sue me. 

The web has made it even easier to read good content; I'm proud to work for a site that is well researched, chock full of experts and run by people who know what they're talking about and will only talk about it if they deem it worthy of a mention. That freedom is how the journalism industry is evolving and perhaps why mags such as More end up closed, but either way it's a sad day when a publication is cut. *side glance to Vagenda*

I consider myself a feminist (I consider anyone who thinks women are equal to men, full stop, feminist) and yet I write about health and beauty. Shock horror. It's not putting women down to write about how to lose weight, because, newsflash: some women would like to lose weight. And that's not because a magazine told them to, it's because they'd quite like to be their healthy size ten, or look their best on their wedding day, or because actually, the doctor says they kind of need to. 

The media has a responsibility to treat men and women equally but whinging that they write about certain content is not the way to go. How about whinging when political writers bang on about what female MPs are wearing instead of what their views are? We don't need so-called feminists like Vagenda protecting us from the big bad wolves of the mag industry; we can read one and still have our own opinions just like we can read the Daily Mail and know it's a pile of twoddle. What we need is feminists who actually believe in equality, which is why the fact they retweeted this confirms they're not someone I want to follow: "I agree with . I find quite troubling the idea that to be a 'real' feminist, you have to support all women unquestionably."

I think feminism should be about women being entitled to do what they want to do just as men are; about equality, pure and simple. I don't see anyone criticising the men's mags for constantly using muscular models and suggesting you go to the gym. I don't see anyone pitying the poor male readers who must be so ashamed that their arms aren't burly enough because a picture in a magazine is telling them that's what Ryan Gosling looks like. How about you back off the women who write for a living (like you do, VM) and happen to write about health, beauty and body issues? Who are you to say they shouldn't? Equality and respect shouldn't be conditional. That kind of kills the point.


How not to get a date online...

Posted by Judy Johnson On Sunday, 31 March 2013 02:09 0 comments
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Should online dating really be such hard work? I'm starting to think the novelty has worn off... 

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Ah, online dating. I'm still giving it a go, only these days with even less enthusiasm than before. Partly, it's a matter of timing; I quite like my life as it is as I'm happy with work, still working on making home better and love to spend all my free time with either friends or family. Men don't really stand a chance, even if they wanted to. But, in the interests of an interesting life and not winding up a spinster (apparently, that's bad), I'm still logging on every so often to see if Mr Right has shown up on my little world web of dating. 

Well, it seems he hasn't. Not only am I recognising too many Mr Wrongs in the searches (been on there so long it's getting a bit stale) but I've joined another site - this time a free one, God help me - and instead of being wooed and flirted with by endlessly charming blokes, I feel like I'm being told off every time I click. Seriously, at the moment I'd rather go to the dentist right now than go online and find out what I'm being yelled at for this time...

No sooner had I finished setting up my profile on a free (but not POF, give me some credit) site than I had a message from a guy telling me off for pointing out I wanted a tall man. You have to say why potential daters should message you, so I decided, seeing as I'd been unlucky in love-with-my-type so far, to be honest about what I'm after but attempt to do so with a little wit. Perhaps I failed. All I wrote was that if you're 'tall, witty and beard-less (no offence, bearded ones) then get in touch' etc etc. But angry gentleman said that I should apologise for causing offence to short men, since it's something they can't change, unlike a beard which they can; apparently, requesting a tall man is much like saying I'll only date someone white. 

A tall issue 

WELL. While I'd hate to offend anyone who is short, surely it's all relative. Most girls consider 5'10  a tall man - but the problem is, that's MY height. So I need a really, really tall man in order to feel even slightly comfortable. And perhaps it's unfair of me to rule out dating someone shorter than me, but why waste time lying? And how many men out there look at a profile of a girl over 5'9" and actually get in touch if they're not pushing 6 foot? As a girl it sucks to feel like a big fat giant, and that's what you feel like whenever you're with someone who is a lot smaller than you. It's not feminine, it knocks confidence and I don't think I know one woman who would be happy seeing a man who is shorter than her. The only difference is, all those mates are quite short themselves so it's not a problem, whereas I'm probably ruling out about 80% of guys. Thanks, Mother Nature.

To beard or not to beard 

What's more, my point about beards was not to be nasty, but an attempt to convey my type. Hairy bearded men, who tend, I find, to be of the skinny-jeans-wearing variety more often than not - yes I'm generalising - are not my type. That's not to say they're not wonderful, or attractive, or whatever - they're just not for me. And isn't that kind of what online dating is about? How, when there are thousands of people online searching for the One, are we meant to whittle it down to said One if we can't even state what we're looking for?

Anyway. I told him in no uncertain terms that he was wrong, I didn't mean to cause offence and that stating a preference for height is not the same as race, because that would make me a racist moron. He soon shut up. 

Nowhere to hide

Next, I get a few men who are all watching my activity like a hawk. Been online but not replied to their message yet? In pops another one questioning what's taking so long. Looked at their profile but not rated them back yet? In comes a sarcastic message telling you yes it was them who emailed you and are you going to bother getting back to them now? 

I might be slow at getting back to guys online, and yes I am doing it half-heartedly at the moment which is totally my fault. But chasing me with snide comments and expecting an instant response is not really the way to pique my interest. 

It all feels like a hassle, and one I could do without - this should be fun, exciting, a bit scary but ultimately nothing to get too serious about else what's the point? I'm starting to dread the emails and given that I've not spotted anyone I actually want to email back, I might just ditch the whole thing...

The only way is dresses

Posted by Judy Johnson On Thursday, 28 February 2013 22:06 0 comments
First thing's first: I do not, nor have I ever watched TOWIE. It's just not my kind of thing - I'd much rather a good dose of sunshine in the form of Home and Away or camp drama like Revenge.

Now that that's out the way; when my friend introduced me to Lipstick Boutique, on first look I didn't think it was for me based on the names behind the range - that is, girls from The Only Way Is Essex. Lauren Pope, Amy Childs, Jessica Wright... all names I've seen when guiltily scrolling through the Daily Mail sidebar of shame but not ones I'd particularly copy the style of.

But then I saw dresses, and dresses are a bit of an addiction of mine. And after a quick browse, my first impression was quashed. The ranges are modelled by the girls themselves, and beyond the OTT make-up and fake lashes they all actually have quite curvy figures, which is refreshing for a fashion site and good for me in terms of knowing what will suit.

Most of the styles are a bit much for me - my curves aren't necessarily in the right places like these celebs (cue violin, please) so I can't pull off a skin-tight body con dress like some of them can. But once I'd scrolled past the ones which were a bit too WAG, I found some I really liked.

Of them all, Lydia's range is my favourite - her dresses are a little more girly, quirky and interesting, with a range of prints and shapes and there's something a bit retro about them too. 

I was offered the chance to try out one of the dresses and in minutes I'd picked the Georgia - a prom-like dress of black lace which is exactly my style for something that's a bit more formal; plus she's wearing a headband in the photo, so it had to be The One. 

I was surprised at how heavy it was when it arrived, not like the thin and flimsy dresses that usually sit in my wardrobe (side glance at H&M here) but when I slipped it on, I loved how it fit. Well made, perfect sizing and a gorgeous cut that skims hips and tightens in at the waist. 

Seeing as I have 6 weddings to attend this year this might just be one of my outfits, teamed with a pearly headband and dainty flats. I'll be keeping my eye on the new collections too... 

Disclosure: Dress was PR sample

What SATC taught me about life

Posted by Judy Johnson On Saturday, 16 February 2013 16:36 0 comments
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I've just finished watching the Sex and the City boxset for the tenth (or maybe millionth) time, and realised just how much I like to think of it in everyday life. Though not quite so much as Friends. It's far cleaner and therefore more quotable...

Ahhh, SATC. The show that created my huge girl crush on Sarah Jessica Parker (she is stunning, has great style, and writes what she wants while affording aforementioned great style. Winning. At. Life.) and made me speak a little too freely about dating with my wonderful friends. From cool cocktails to good fashion sense, Carrie and co have definitely taught me a few things over the years...

1. Dress the part
Carrie teaches us that you must always dress for the occasion appropriately. Did someone mention Paris? Grab your beret quick and add 'le' in front of everything you say.

2. Be yourself
If a guy won't even let you drink your coffee how you like it, ditch him. Aleksandr, take your controlling ways and go annoy someone else. 

3. Sex before marriage is a good thing
Charlotte and Trey taught us that a test drive is always a good idea. Not to mention making sure the mother in law isn't called 'Bunny' and slightly insane (really, the alarm bells were always there). 

4. If you know a relationship is wrong, end it
Let's face it, Post-It-gate would never have happened if Carrie had stuck to her guns and dumped Berger when she realised they needed a 'bit' just to get through a day. 

5. You can be a mum and still be normal
One of my favourite storylines was Miranda and the baby. She showed that hating pregnancy and wanting the baby to be quiet for just five minutes doesn't make you a bad mother. You can also talk about stuff that doesn't involve babies - if someone could explain that to half my Facebook friends, that'd be awesome.

6. Country guys and city girls don't mix
Oh Aidan. He was perfect in every way except for the fact he was not perfect to Carrie. He should have taken Pete to that cabin and found a nice girl who lived in the woods to marry and build stuff with long before the affair stuff happened. If you prefer heels to hills, run for them if an Aidan comes your way.

7. Dildo models have feelings, too
Who knew?

8. You don't marry Mr Pussy
I can't believe I just wrote that sentence and hope mum isn't reading. But this is a valuable lesson; you don't settle down with the player who everyone's had a, er, play with. You have fun and then you find yourself a balding lawyer with a great sense of humour. Or something... 

9. Real friends will help with anything
From telling you what to do when a spot of DIY-bikini-dying goes wrong, to giving you a downpayment on your flat (this one still amazes me) to helping you when your birth control gets stuck (ditto this one), real friends won't bat an eyelid if you need a hand. 

10. You'll most likely meet The One when you look awful
Carrie met Big when she looked her worst (that hair... that make-up!) and when she dropped a clutch bag full of condoms on the street. Nice. Miranda met Steve when she rowed with Carrie on the phone. Charlotte met Harry when she was going through a nasty divorce (though to be fair, she rarely looks bad). So when you look like crap and you see that hot man in Tesco's? Yep, he could be it.

And a few things they got wrong:

1. If a boyfriend buys you a new Mac, even if it is shaped like a handbag, you keep it. No brainer!

2. Just because you have a flat stomach that any 20 year old would be jealous of, doesn't mean you have to get it out in public. Middle-aged midriff isn't hot. 

3. Don't give Geri Halliwell a part in an episode, no matter how big or small. Jeez.


Skater girl

Posted by Judy Johnson On Sunday, 10 February 2013 21:32 0 comments
Fashion isn't my usual blogging topic of choice, but given that I have a slight obsession for good dresses, great headbands and gorgeous earrings I've decided every so often I might share my favourite finds. 

My style has changed quite a bit over the last few years (I'm sure this is pretty common for anyone making their way through their twenties) but one shape I've discovered that's perfect for my fairly curvy frame is the skater dress. It nips you in at the waist, skims over wide hips and gives a flattering shape that balances out any curves. I love that dancer-like silhouette too - as a tall girl it's great to feel so feminine despite wearing flat shoes and being the same height as most men. 

Until now, I've mostly just bought every one that I can find on ASOS but last month I branched out and fell in love with a skirt. It's quite possibly my favourite item in my wardrobe and even better, it's still in the ASOS sale.

Image from ASOS

I absolutely adore black and gold together - half my wardrobe is made up of the colours - and so with this buy I went a bit co-ordinated-crazy. I teamed it with a black and gold sheer shirt, black pointed pumps with gold studs from New Look and a black lace bag from Miss Selfridge with gold chain handle. I may have also added a black and gold headband, naturally... 

The skirt is available now on ASOS here for £24.50.


One of those New Year posts...

Posted by Judy Johnson On Tuesday, 8 January 2013 21:33 4 comments
You know how at this time of year, suddenly everyone's tweets and blog posts and Facebook comments and Tumblrs and god knows what else is all about how they're going to be a different person - a new year, new me if you will? Annoying, aren't they? Well... sorry.

But here's the thing - this isn't about my plan to change, oh no. This is about the fact that somewhere between 2012 ending and 2013 beginning, I have become an actual new person. Look! *twirls*

Ah right, I should probably talk you through it. Here's why I feel like I might have been replaced in my sleep by a better version of me...

Weird food

I am eating actual real food that my mum has deemed 'posh'. Salmon bagels in the morning. Bloody homemade cucumber sandwiches for lunch. I'm planning on making an actual fish pie instead of buying one in a ready meal pack that takes two minutes to heat. I eat olives now, for Christ's sake. Who the hell do I think I am?

I am a girl who is afraid of tupperware (it's OK, I'm sticking to foil), who hasn't made my own lunch since I was 7 (though back then my mum made it, but you know what I mean) and who thinks a perfect breakfast is a bowl of Coco Pops. I don't even know what triggered this madness but it's happening and I can't seem to stop (though I am still eating Mini Eggs like there's no tomorrow, or Easter, ever).

Crazy hair

I have worn my hair down twice in one week. Yes, OMG. I wore it down once last year, I think; it was for a first date and I was feeling brave. I regretted it all day because when you wear your hair down, you have to flick it out of the way EVERY SINGLE MINUTE or else your neck overheats, or your hair goes flat and suddenly you're not a real woman anymore, you're just a poor excuse of one who should have brought a hairband just in case. 

Anyway, this is big news for anyone who knows me (especially to those who follow my old, now anon, blog) and what's weird is, I feel OK about it. It felt nice. I felt like a girl. I don't do it in the daytime, mind; can't be arsed with that nonsense in the morning. Flicky hair works much better with wine.

New feet

I have bought and worn actual shoes. I hate shoes. I only wear open-toed sandals of the very strappy and supportive variety (supportive without being from Clarks, though) or boots. There is no in between. Except for slippers, but as yet they haven't hit the fashion shows so I can't wear them outside. 

The shoes did hurt my feet, I admit. I wore them out to the most dancey place in London I know, and now my big toes feel like they have been stamped on repeatedly by concrete, but it's OK. Because this makes me a normal girl (even if they were flats. Heels ain't gonna happen.) and this is what we do.

Happy thoughts

I'm not angry every day. Last year, and maybe the year before that, and definitely the year before that, I felt angry a lot. I was stressed a lot, I was seeing red every which way and generally felt pissed off with the world. I still think the world could do with a few improvements (where are the world's New Year's resolutions, eh?) but all in all things are better. I feel almost serene, when I'm not stupidly busy, but at least I'm not stupidly busy with stupid thoughts anymore - or at least I am, but only for about 10% of the time. It's most bizarre and I don't know how long it will last, but I am going to enjoy it while it does. 

Older and wiser?
I'm not freaked out by being 27 (mostly). My birthday was brilliant - I spent it with friends who actually seem to care that I'm OK, who want to come out and dance their socks off with me, and who make me feel so happy and comfortable in my own skin that I'm trying not to pinch myself whenever I see them. Wow, group hug moment. 

This year my birthday was not about getting old, it was about having fun - and even though I keep thinking 'Wow, today is the oldest I have ever been' and checking for wrinkles, another more positive, smart-aleck side of my brain then quipps 'And it's also the youngest you're ever going to be again, ha ha!' (someone also pointed this out on Twitter - thanks, someone). And when I think of it like that, I think every day is really quite enjoyable. WHO AM I? 

Don't get me wrong, I can still be grumpy, and get cross when a commuter puts a bag on a seat or when the milk runs out at 4pm just as I need a cuppa. But what's different is I have a bit of hope for this year - I'm in a good place, my parents are about to move to a good place, I have six weddings to go to this year proving 2013 is all about romance - and my friend's psychic reckons someone beginning with J might meet her husband this year. Ryan Gosling, I'm right this way. 

So there you have it. 2013 may have already brought me two hideous hangovers and an overdue tax return, but it's also brought a new and improved me. I wonder how long it'll last...
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