I want to be like Peter Pan

Like every teenager, I eagerly anticipated the prospect of turning 18. Being able to drink legally, not having to fret about getting rejected by SMACK, (the bouncers genuinely scared me, we've all heard the rumours...), being able to vote, receiving a pay rise, and looking forward to finishing school forever, all excited me immensely. However, I have found that turning 18 isn't all it's cracked up to be. 


My hands still tremble like Pete Doherty's as I pass my ID over to bouncers, worried that having dyed my hair I am unrecognisable. I haven't been able to place my vote against Nick Clegg just yet, my pay rise of 98p hasn't bought me the Bentley I've always wanted and I am quite literally an embarrassment to fellow 18 year olds around the globe as today, I found myself admitting that I actually preferred the taste of Coke to alcohol. So unlike Conor Maynard, I don't have a problem saying "no" to the barman. Although, I'm sure my best friend's bathroom would beg to differ. My work load seems to have trebled and stressed me out to the max, having encountered several "nervy bs", all due to the pressure of getting into university. 


But most of all the biggest disappointment of becoming an "adult" is that I failed to receive any Easter eggs this year. Some of you may find this trivial, but for a chocoholic like myself, it felt like I had been stood up on my wedding day. According to my family I am now "too old" to be receiving Easter eggs, yet the other day my dad surprised me with the most amazing and incredible present that I could have ever wished for....an egg holder. This was no ordinary egg holder, it had "Rebecca" written on it and the next morning my dad cooked me a boiled egg with soldiers just so I could use this holder. Hmm, I'm pretty sure my dad's still treating me like a child, so surely I'm entitled to an Easter egg? Apparently not. 


As well as Easter eggs, other things that I miss from being a child are getting into the cinema at cheaper prices, making mud pies, climbing trees and watching Mary-Kate and Ashley films without being judged, apparently it isn't the norm to watch these films at 18? But I definitely don't miss my block fringe and playing "Tig". One of my pet hates is being chased, so when the fastest girl in Junior School (practically Usain Bolt speed) chased me around the playground I very nearly had a cardiac arrest every break time. However, It seems that this hasn't changed as I still get chased as an adult. Unfortunately, this is not by a group of Abercrombie and Fitch models, who are desperately battling it out between each other to get my number, (Hard to believe, I know). I in fact get chased by my so called "friends" down the school corridor, as they hysterically laugh at my misfortune of running into a wall screaming out of terror, as if I'm being chased in a horror film. 


Don't get me wrong, I like the responsibility and independence of being a grown up, and I can't wait to get to university, particularly Freshers week, but I have to pass my A-levels first. However, I hate thinking about my future and what I'm going to do as a career. It was a lot easier being a child. Strangely I didn't dream about becoming a popstar or a ballerina, I in fact wanted to be a hairdresser... But as I can now only do one hair style- straight, I think I'll give that job a miss. 

I want to be like Peter Pan who said "I want always to be a boy, and have fun". Before you question my gender, I am merely referring to staying young and enjoying myself. I am only 18, most definitely a girl, (however I refuse to provide you with evidence), and definitely don't want to be classed as an "adult" if it means I have to decide my future at the age of 18.
Now, hand me that Fruit Shoot...

Rugby players or football players? That is the question.

From passing comments in the common room regarding rugby and football players, it seems that girls prefer one or the other. It is a battle between men (rugby players) versus boys (football players). However, I seem to be the anomaly in this generalisation and have a strong affinity to both. You may deem this to be greedy, but I like to think of it as a greater appreciation of various body types, excluding the props- I'm not that desperate. (No offence Matt Stevens). 


But what is it that defines this preference? Football players lead a life in the fast lane, with invites to star studded events as they walk the same red carpet as Robert Pattinson, hand in hand with Miss England, drive top of the range sports cars and own million pound mansions from their ridiculously high earnings, undeservedly may I add. However, I wouldn't exactly be complaining if I was a WAG. But let's face it, unless I get a boob job, help from a plastic surgeon, (preferably not Michael Jackson's), a fake tan and most importantly not minding if I were to be cheated on, marrying a footballer is very unlikely, although currently top of my agenda. 


Footballers have the stereotype of being pretty boys- with the exception of Rooney and Ronaldinho - who maintain slender figures and take pride in their appearance (or vain in other words) as they indulge in designer clothing, sunglasses and sparkling silver earrings. Yes Cristiano Ronaldo, I am talking about you. To some, this is incredibly appealing, and who could blame them? Generally footballers are very attractive men, better looking than half of the rugby players who have noses the size of a gorilla's and swollen ears, but some could argue them to be a tad puny.

In comparison, it is the rugby player's extremely muscular build which "attracts the ladies". Of course this includes their derierre which women can't help but admire as they flaunt it in our faces via the camera lens, whilst they bend down into a scrum. *Sighs*. This often leads to my own mum frantically screaming at the TV, not because they have scored a try, but because the camera man has zoomed out. A scrum however, is the only time when men should be witnessed groping other men and is the only scenario where it is acceptable for women to take pleasure in it. Not only do their rippling abs and bulging biceps make us weak at the knees, but rugby players also have a more gentleman-like swag about them than footballers do. They are pictured predominantly on the back pages of the newspaper rather than on the front, with very few resorting to infidelity which the likes of footballers Giggs and Terry have indulged. Nevertheless, who could forget Mike Tindall in last year's World Cup in New Zealand, as the video footage caught him copping a feel down under (pun intended).


I guess what I'm trying to say is that there are pros and cons for both sets of players, but in reality, a rugby player doesn't need a tennis ball in his briefs like David Beckham does...

Valentine's Day

With Valentine's Day just around the corner, men across the world are raiding local florists and purchasing heart shaped chocolates to give to their adoring girlfriends, (or boyfriends).  For loved-up couples, the 14th of February is the most anticipated and amorous day of the year. After all, what's not to love about red roses, expensive jewellery and reinacting the scene from the Lady and the Tramp, as you lovingly feed your partner spaghetti? Well, everything if you are single! 


Being single on Valentine's Day for men isn't half as big of a trauma as it is for women. For women, the 14th of February is just another reminder that they are in fact alone, unloved and a real life version of Bridget Jones. Even going to the local shop you can't escape the array of pink and red gifts, fluffy teddy bears or sickeningly cheesy cards on offer. Yet however "cheesy" or "corny" a single girl may label a Valentine's card, the truth of the matter is that they would without a doubt jump at the chance of receiving an excruciatingly cringey card, rather than to stand empty handed as they are humiliated watching their mother or even grandma receive one from their husbands.

For a girl, being alone on Valentine's Day means shutting yourself off from the rest of the world and watching numerous rom coms whilst devouring the whole of Tesco's confectionery aisle. (Not that it makes anyone feel any better). Shamefully, this year I was rather looking forward to watching Titanic in 3D at the cinema with my best friends, only to be disappointed that it isn't released until April. Despite the Titanic being one of the greatest love stories of all time, you have to question whether Rose really deserved Jack? It's possible that my bitterness towards Rose comes from envy, but who in their right mind would let go of Leonardo DiCaprio?! As Regina George would say, it's "social suicide". 

"I'll never let go"...erm yes you did, bitch!

So this Valentine's Day, for the second year running, I will be waiting on lovers at candle-lit tables, whilst I try my utter best not to purposefully spill boiling hot soup down the girl with the Leonardo DiCaprio lookalike boyfriend.

By no means is this intended to make you feel sorry for all the Bridget Jones's out there, after all, they get their Mark Darcy in the end.

What do you write about in your first blog?

WARNING: This is not David Beckham's blog posted from within a city...sorry! 


Worryingly, I seem to have been hit with "writers block" as I attempt to compose my first blog. (Not the most fantastic start for someone aspiring to be a journalist.) Whilst pondering over what topic I should first write about, suggestions consisted of my favourite band, fashion and most bizarrely, public transport. Having disregarded those suggestions, I have decided to talk about the topic that I know like the back of my hand, and which will hopefully give you an insight into the writings behind my blogs, myself.


Where do I begin? My name is Becky and I am a typical eighteen year old girl, stressing over A-levels and constantly worrying at the prospect of not getting into university, nor a pair of Topshop's incredibly tight skinny jeans. Like the majority of teenage girls across the world, I like to shop, sing along to boy bands in my car and immerse myself for hours on end in extremely educational magazines such as Cosmopolitan and heat. After all, girls love a good gossip and an ogle over tanned and topless men. *Cue Zac Efron*. 

Despite these stereotypical characteristics of a girl, I am in fact a sports fanatic, and a big one at that. Participating mainly in netball, rounders and hockey, (back to the stereotypes I know) has transformed me into a competitive person. Now, racing and most importantly, beating my dad to the top of the stairs is a daily routine in my house. But I also enjoy watching and not just playing sport. I become heavily engrossed to the TV when any major sporting competition is on such as the Six Nations, Wimbledon, The Ashes and of course the world's greatest show on earth, the Olympics. Admittedly however, I must have been in the minority of the British population that didn't apply for London 2012 tickets. Paying hundreds of pounds to be lumbered with tickets to see the volleyball just didn't seem appealing to me. However, if I was guaranteed tickets to witness Tom Daley dive, that would be a whole other story. 


One of the most important facts you should know about me is that I love my football. And yes, I do understand the offside rule. Shocking isn't it? I am devoted to Liverpool FC and most importantly to Mr Steven Gerrard. Who can resist his scouse charm? Well apparently most people with taste according to my friends. The ultimate dream is to be a sports journalist or TV presenter. In other words, my goal is to be like Georgie Thompson (former Sky Sports News presenter), but a tad taller. 


So, hopefully if you've enjoyed what you have read then keep reading my blogs but if not, then sorry for wasting your time.




Wow, that felt like I just wrote my personal statement all over again.