Expectations VS reality

Here is the cold hard truth: 

 Festivals:  

Expectations: wow so cool and all the flowery headbands, flouncing around like Alexander Chung all weekend.

Reality: peeing in portaloos that even a dog wouldn’t use (the smell, oh god the smell) and being trampled in crowds. Not mention the odd bottle of pissbeing thrown at your head.

Baking a cake: 

 

Expectations: ooh make way Mary Berry, there’s a new cake master in town. 

Reality: ‘I think next time a little bit less sugar….and egg shells’.

 Going on a girls holiday: 

  

Expectation: Exactly like in Sex And The a City, drinking all the cocktails and maybe wearing a big hat. 

Reality: Being hungover in the glaring sunshine and not being able to afford to eat. 

Going to the beach:

 

Expectation: lying around, drinking iced tea, having a little snooze. 

Reality: Sand. Sand everywhere.

Going to Topshop:  

Expectation: ooh so chic and so highstreet runway, I heard Kendall Jenner shops here. 

Reality: is that a plastic see through skirt?

 Going to the doctors: 

Expectation: ooh it’s only a check up, I’ll be in, out and off.

Reality: sitting next to the illest people in the world for 45 minutes whilst people who came in later than you get to go first.

Walking in high heels:   

Expectations: all the legs, and fabulous flaunting around. 

Reality: falling over on the floor like a baby giraffe. Oh and blisters. All the blisters.

Cutting your hair short:

 

Expectation: I’m gunna look cool and sassy like Jennifer Larence and not having to waste so much time styling it. ITS THE PERFECT SOLUTUON. 

Reality: IM BALD! MY BEAUTIFUL HAIR, MY BEAUTIFUL HAIR! 

Love, Robyn.