I'm not saying that I'd wear it better, but my figure loves a jumpsuit.

I’m not saying that I’d wear it better, but my figure loves a jumpsuit.

As much as 2013 was about helping people where you can, and as fun as it is to play Mother Theresa once on a while, 2014 is all about trimming the fat – and I’m not just talking about in your diet. Plus crop tops and crossbows are much trendier than habits.

It’s a known fact that “life is too short”, (so we hear from everybody over the age of 30), so we shouldn’t be afraid to do what makes us happy. Unnecessary clutter can be a big form of stress and I’m just not down with that right now. Facebook culls, dropping friends you no longer have things in common with and trimming the fat in your dating life are all the rage right now.

Similarly, beating around the bush for what you want is exhausting. If you want it, you get it. If someone else doesn’t deserve it as much as you, you take it from them. As we learnt from the Hunger Games, it’s survival of the fittest.

That’s not to say that you should be ruthlessly taking out any competition with an axe – but you should certainly have your eye on the prize (here speaking; happiness). By getting rid of the excess (crap) in your life, it makes the goal much more achievable. Case in point…

When a guy I had a soft spot for blew me out for the one thousandth time, I was done taking it lying down (or not taking it at all, as it were). I think some people call this ‘reaching boiling point’.

So I lit a fat zoot and told him about himself…


I’m pretty sure it wasn’t, but I’m gonna imagine he had a startling reaction…


Was I possibly a bit too warm in this game of ‘playing it cool’? Sure. Did I perhaps ruin the chance of maybe having another one-off dinner date (followed by vanilla sex) sometime in the unstated future? Almost definitely. But did I feel better? You damn right I did.
And while there’s still the twinge of embarrassment from openly admitting that his flakiness had got my back up, realising that I’d probably saved myself hours, if not days, of waiting for him to reply – if he ever did – made it better. He had a lot going for him, but if you ain’t got time to message me back, I ain’t got time for tact…


When you do something like this, you test a guy. If he generally does want to see you, it’ll occur to him that you’re not one for game playing and he’ll buck up his ideas. If not, he’ll probably just cast an eye over your vivacious message and go back to button collecting or 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzles.

But I’d now eliminated another bit of clutter from my life (unfortunately the same cant be said for my wardrobe). It’s saving both our times, disappointment, dignity – and at the very least – a few of my free texts. So while it wasn’t exactly ‘The Hunger Games’, by eliminating anything in your way (like flakey Vanilla men), you’re that step closer to becoming a Victor. We call it a Katniss-itude.

This week I had my graduation and was bored to tears for hours hearing people’s names called out that I hadn’t even heard of before. If I’d of manned up, I would’ve left straight after I went on stage. Selfish? Totally. But I would have been happy? Certainly.
See, the clutter isn’t always men – sometimes it’s boring speeches. But realistically I wasn’t going to see any of them again, so would it of actually hurt anyone if I had of left?
Cut to me doing a fat bump of k and dribbling through the next two hours. Not sure which one was less socially acceptable in the end…

What I’m basically saying is that life is too short, so clear out your shit and move on. Clutter is just another obstacle for new opportunities.