Well, hello there. I’m Gemma.
*croons* Everything I dooooo, I do it for meeeeee.
Or at least, I’m trying. It’s a philosophy I’m still learning to embody—perhaps you are too.
In this weird digital world of blogs, blogs, never-ending blogs, #fitspo, cats riding Roombas and Donald Trump’s tweets, it feels we have entertainment overload and a disconnect with reality, truth and genuine connection. I mean, really, we are fucking starved of truth in this world.
So I wanted to start on mine; my truth, my connection, my reality and how that actually grows roots into the world at large. Starting a blog felt like a good way to do that.
Just like the schmatrillion other blogs out there… Shh. Don’t piss on my chips.
I come to blogging via self-employment, mental health issues, motherhood, questionable self-care and embarrassing life choices. I come to blogging to add my voice, my narrative, my story to all of the above subject areas. I come to blogging, because, hey, I’m fucking lucky enough to do that. So ner ner n-ner-ner.
Want the low down? You got it:
I’m a 36 year old white, middle-class, cisgender, heterosexual, able-bodied, married British woman. I know most people don’t introduce themselves like that, but in the interests of truthful talk, you can see that I’m Really Just Another Blogger. But Really Though. I honestly have no genuine USP ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I live in Bristol. I KNOW, I’M A HILARIOUS STEREOTYPICAL BLOGGER.
I’m a mum of one six-year-old daughter (no plans to continue growing that number, please don’t ask. REALLY. DON’T FUCKING ASK.)
I love creative swearing (I personally credit myself with creating a system of joining words together that is legit foolproof), my family, my friends, gymnastics, Instagram stories, sunshine, the colour yellow, lavender and pretending to be fit.
I’d love to actually be fitter rather than pretending. I’d love to go to South America (it’s been a dream of mine for nearly 30 years after becoming obsessed with The Mysterious Cities of Gold). I’d love to be able to share my stories in my own way.
Come on in, it’s like we’re family already.