Boobs at Dawn

Being part of a campaign like No More Page 3 was always going to come with it's hurdles because nothing worth having comes easy. Especially being the age I am and living the lifestyle I lead (unfortch, it's a quite drunk student lifestyle and not a particularly glamorous one), I feel I have to fight even harder to be heard and understood than the adults involved with campaign. Maybe it's because people within my age group are the most sexually active, the biggest watchers of porn and the largest readers of lads mags but whatever the case, I feel the need to set the story straight from the word go so that no one can turn around and call me something I'm not.

I am not pretentious or uptight. I am not insecure (Well alright, I am a little bit buy hey, we all have our hang-ups), I am not some nerdy virgin, a strangely religious being or bra burning feminist.
I am a student, a drinker, a fashion magazine obsessed, X Factor loving, boy crazy 19 year old girl. I don't like spiders, can't lift anything that's very heavy and yes, sometimes I am still scared of the dark.

None of that should matter though. I support the No More Page 3 campaign for a few very simple reasons, and not one of them is because I am a self-loathing prude.

I support this campaign because:

• I am bored of being unable to wear a low cut top without the conversation being directed at my chest all night.
• I genuinely do believe it conditions us all to think it's ok to see another human being as a half naked commodity.
• I am a DD and actually, finding underwear in my size is a nightmare. Don't put out the idea that with boobs 'bigger is better' when actually, bigger tends to mean more expensive and harder to find.
• When I have a picture of a topless male as my screensave it makes me look 'sad', 'pathetic' and 'obsessed' but when a guy can oogle over the Page 3 everyday that's alright.
• I am worth more than my chest.
• When David Beckham was poised in his Armani' it was like 'Here you go ladies, have a treat', like it was something special that we don't get very often but blokes get a beautiful half naked lady everyday and it's seen as normal.
• But mostly, because in 15-20 years time, when I have a daughter or a son, I want them to have a grown up in a world where you aren't conditioned to viewing anyone in a certain light. Where there are no pre-judgements of a person because of some way they are 'supposed' to be seen.

I just think that now, enough is enough. Page 3 is uncalled for, no one's lively hood depends on it, Google will kill it off sooner or later but I want us to get there first.

Sign here: http://www.change.org/nomorepage3

It's A Love Story

I think when I meet my soul mate, it'll be in a bookshop or a library. We will both be flipping through the titles looking for something new and interesting. He'll be taller than me and kind of geeky, think Clark Kent meets Henry from Ugly Betty. I'll have my hair in a perfect falling ponytail (this is how you know it's a fantasy. My hair has never fallen in a perfect pony for the entirety of my life and shows no signs of changing), wearing a pretty floral dress and a cute blazer. We'll awkwardly bump into each other and apologise, before one of us inquires about the other's choice of read and the geeky book chat starts. Eventually we both end my recommending our own favorite's and being completely offended that the other hasn't read it and insist that they buy it and do so immediantly, meaning neither of us leaves with a new book, but a classic to add to our collection instead. Having been intrigued as to why I think Jay Gatsby is a better romantic hero than Romeo Montague and Mr Darcy put together (a story for another time), he'll say he was going to head for a coffee after the bookshop/library anyways and would I like to join him, to which I will nervously say yes. We then spend hours sat in a small corner and once our literary discussions have finished, we'll end up talking about everything from favorite pizza toppings, to childhood holiday destinations and politics. Eventually, one of us will check the time and see that we have just spent four hours in the company of a complete stranger and yet never felt so at ease in our lives, but realise that it is time to make a move. We'll pack up from the coffee shop and head back out onto the street where, finally, phone numbers are exchanged and we have to part ways.We spend the next few weeks texting quotes from the books we chose and going for drinks, which eventually leads to things like going to the theatre and being together and then we get married in some very picturesque church after a ceremony at my church back in Chalfont and we live happily ever after, just like in the stories...

Well, a girl can dream, can't she? 

It is also possible, that I spend too much time in Waterstones.

There's Still Something About Gaga

Admit it, we all remember roughly the first time we heard Lady Gaga's 'Just Dance' and knew that Pop had found it's new Princess. Four Years later and we have all adapted to crazy of the Gaga. Everyone wants a piece of her, she's graced the covers of Rolling Stones, Elle and Vogue too mention but a few, won more music awards than you can shake a stick at and has successfully been on tour for 374 days and counting.She's a fashion icon, a gay icon, a role model to young women and having seen her in the Monster Ball on Saturday night, it is easy to see why she is still captivating us all.

I first saw Lady Gaga when she opened for Take That at their 2009 The Circus Tour at Wembley Stadium in London. She had just released The Fame. She was only on stage for 45 minutes, but she still managed to fit in 4 costume changes and a flash of her bum. Perez Hilton was still referring to her as 'The Gaga', and I swore to myself that one day, I would see her live in her own concert. Happy to say that on 9th September 2012 that day arrived.

Any concert that kick starts with the artist giving birth to themselves is worthy of at least 7 stars, and thankfully for me, Gaga not only gave birth to herself, but managed to give birth to a side of myself I haven't seen since I was 14 years old and chasing the Jonas Brothers up Oxford Street. Between the powerful dance numbers, the dancer's beautifully sculpted bodies, the crazy costumes (think slightly robotic virgin bride and biker Barbie) and her wicked New York potty mouth it was easy to be swept away in the tidal wave of brash, fast moving, fun that is Lady Gaga.

For me, however, it wasn't the Gaga you see in the music videos or in the magazines that amazed me. Rather, it was the raw, stripped down version that had me on the edge of my seat whooping and clapping and hyperventilating like there was no tomorrow. It was the way she was able to so instantly connect with her fans, whether they were the ones she pulled on stage, or the ones sat up in the Gods. She gave a piece of herself to us all. It's the way that when she sat down at her piano and started to play 'Hair', 'Princess Die' and 'Imagine' we saw that 15 year old girl who worked in dingy night clubs and fought tooth and nail for this thing she loved the most; her music. 

In amongst all the zany head pieces and crazy hair, it was easy to loose sight of the fact that Lady Gaga is truly, truly beautiful. She has a face you can use at angle and a body Kate Moss would die for. Then there was the fact that her inner beauty and the connection she felt with us, her fans, was so overwhelming and strong that it managed to shine through brighter than the stage lights. She is everything 15 year old me wished I would become, strong, independent, different, proud and damn  good at what she does.

She is, without doubt, one of the most talented artist on the scene right now. Whilst Pop's other Princess are busy lip syncing (you know who I'm talking about) and barely being able to hold a tune live (her too), Gaga is on stage, singing live, dancing hard and playing the piano like an angel. She has a voice more versatile than Vaseline. Whether you want pop, rock, soul or opera, Lady Gaga can deliver in ways that haven't been seen on an artist since, dare I say it, the late great Freddie Mercury. And I know people say she's a cheap 21st Century Madonna rip off, but frankly, it's bollocks. Having seen both MDMA and BTWB I can easily say that it was pop's Princess that made the better connection with her audience and that seemed more grateful to be up there, not it's Queen. Two things which over all, are absolutely integral to a concert's success. 

Of course Gaga is half of Madonna's age and the hard-cores will argue until they are blue in the face that she rips of Madonna's style/music/techniques whatever, but even if it were true, doesn't just about every artist out there take the traits and tricks of other artists and use them in their own way?

I am not saying that Gaga is pretending to be anyone other than herself, for she is not. She is still the same breath of fresh air into a stale music industry of prepackaged pop-stars, lip syncers and ghost writers, that she was when she burst onto our airwaves all those years ago. She is raw talent, ever growing and evolving, she is a force that shows no signs of slowing down...

And thank Gaga for that. 

Oh...Tits!

Ah, the daily papers. Filled with news from around the globe, celebrity gossip, the weather forecasts, important political views and boobs.

Wait, what?!

Ah yes, if you are British, female and a regular reader of the paper then you probably already know what I'm talking about. In fact, you don't even have to be a female, you could be male, cat, dog or mouse and you've probably already picked up on what I'm chatting about. That's right, Page 3.

Now, before I go any further I am just going to state right here and right now that I LIKE BOOBS. No, this isn't me coming out of the closest, I'm just saying that glamour modelling itself isn't something I disagree with. Nor am I against sex, people that have sex, people that watch porn. people that buy lads mags, sexy underwear or newspapers. For crying out loud, I'm 19 years old! Of course I like sex and underwear and my first year flat was famous for our kitchen wall quite loving decorated with Nuts magazine cut outs. I just don't feel it necessary to have boobs in a newspaper. 

Boobs aren't news, they're just not.  They didn't just appear on planet earth, they've been around for awhile now and well, they're just not news!

That is why I was over the moon when a fantastic writer and friend of mine, invited me to be part of the No More Page 3 Campaign, started when during the Olympics she noticed that even though Jessica Ennis had just secured the hopes of the nation in winning gold in her Heptathlon event, the largest image of any female in The Sun was still the day's Page 3 girl. 

I mean, it's almost laughable, a women who has put her heart and soul into 4 years of training for ONE event, who was made the face of the London 2012 games which have, arguably, been the most successful games to date, still isn't worth as much page space as a girl who has her boobs out. Brilliant. The Suffragettes are probably turning in their graves, spitting feathers and thinking to themselves 'Well, what was the bloody point?!'

And it's true, what was the point? I'm not going to start burning my bra or join some strong Feminist rebellion, but let's be honest here, isn't it just a little bit rubbish that women are still being portrayed as items of sexual desire in a FAMILY newspaper? At least Nuts and Zoo and Maxim and Playboy dedicate entire magazines to us. At least with them it really is an industry, a career. Page 3 just seems out dated, sexist and more than anything, silly. We don't need boobs in The Sun. Honestly, we really don't. I can almost promise it won't affect the paper's sales and that it won't affect the way people take in the news. 

Getting rid of Page 3 will help promote women in a far healthier light and at the end of the day it's not like we get the torso of Dave, 21, from South Shields on Page 5 do we? IT'S A SHEER LACK EQUALITY HERE PEOPLE!

So, let's be equal and let's change the papers of tomorrow. Please sign the petition and spread the word because actually, I really believe in this campaign and it's ability to change the tabloids for the better.

Sign here: http://www.change.org/nomorepage3

- Hayley xx

The End is Just The Beginning

Ah! Summer is almost over which means one thing and one thing only...

I'M GOING BACK TO MANCHESTER!!

After what has, undoubtedly, been the longest summer of my entire existence it is finally time for me to gather up all my shit, pop it all in the car and get it all set up in my lovely new house in time for the start of a brand new school year. There is even a new job on the horizon.

Of course, it means returning to lectures and I basically had a miniature heart attack when I saw that sodding Jeffery Chaucer is my mother loving reading list. I appreciate I'm an English student but studying Chaucer is pretty much the same as studying 16th Century Dutch and that's quite clearly NOT what I signed up for. I think this year, I may, maybe, have to actually read all the books. I have a sneaky suspicion Sparknotes won't cut it.

Shit.

Relatively sure my year will be full of the same old boy drama, messy nights out, lack of sleep and hideous mental break downs, but then again, I suppose that's what being young is all about.

Sorry I've been AWOL too. I haven't been able to string a sentence together in weeks, think I'm losing my writing mojo...

- Hayley xx

Valencia Calling

I GO ON HOLIDAY TOMORROW!
YEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAH.

Sorry, it's just, you know, the prospect of sunshine and the beach and Spanish boys and seeing my Chicas and Spanish boys is getting me all in a tizz.

Natch, the body is in NO WHERE NEAR beach perfect condition and I have seriously under shoppped this year (Only taking the ONE bikini!!) but I think I will manage.

A WEEK OUT OF CHALFONT! YES BITCHES!

Much love xx

The Greatest City For The Greatest Show On Earth!

It has been an emotional and incredible first five days of the London 2012 Olympic Games and I would mostly like to start by saying that I, Hayley Olimba Devlin, was wrong.

The Games have been the greatest, not the worst, thing to happen to our city and I have absolutely never been so proud to say that I am British and that London is my city.

From the remarkable Danny Boyle directed Open Ceremony, to the beautiful Olympic Beacon and the INCREDIBLE transformation of the East End everything about London 2012 shines. I gush every time I see a foreigner post a picture of the games online and feel inspired by the fact that billions of eyes are watching my city in awe as the Olympic and Paralympic games go on. Everyone in the world should experience this feeling.

I have gone from game-hater to game-lover in 0.3 seconds flat, clocked up lots of interesting Sports fact that may or may not come in useful once the pub quiz season restarts and have managed to add at least four new names to my 'He's Fathering My Children List'. Brilliant.

The pride that runs through me every time we win a medal is starting get ridiculous. Helen and Heather's first Team GB gold was phenomenal, then there's Wiggo beating Sir Steve Redgrave's Olympic title and our brilliant Male Gymnastic team who defied all the odds winning our first male gymnastic medal in a century are merely a few of the our Olympic achievements that made my heart swell. Tom Daley's individual isn't for another 10 days and I'm already wetting myself in excitement!*

Plus, it's not even just Team GB I feel proud and captured by though, oh no. It's all the athletes across all the nations, form the sneaky Kazakhstan cyclist who won the road race in the last few seconds, to the AMAZING 15 year old Lithuanian female who won the swimming and to Micheal Phelps and his achievement of officially being the greatest athlete of all time.

I just can't help it, I've caught Olympic Fever and it's raging through me with no signs of stopping!!

COME ON TEAM GB!


*Alright, so I'm not actually wetting myself.