Investing in my skin is my 2018 mantra. My skin had a bit of an emotional run last year, turning twenty-five, I expected clear skin. But seems that’s a myth, much like everything else about the joys of adulthood. I have tried everything to have perfect-looking skin and while drinking 2 litres of water is great, it isn’t working like the claims on social media. Sure my skin appears less spotty but I can’t seem to get rid of the two colonies on my cheeks.
My memories of oats are of a terrible, stodgy mess that included me drenching it in brown sugar and milk. It would do its job, keep me full and do away with a rumbling hungry tummy. It was digestible and nothing more.
Halfway through 2017, I had realised that I was far less productive than I should have been. My life was organised but the organisation itself was strung together into a tangled mess. Too many apps, scribbled pieces of paper and failed attempts at using a poorly put-together bullet journal to my advantage.