“Nobody keeps it real like your parents. They compliment you behind your back and talk sh*t to your face.”
It’s definitely within British culture to be overly polite. I can be thinking “what the #$@&%*!” in my head but what will actually come out of my mouth will be “oh, it seems there has been a misunderstanding/miscommunication.” The one set of people you can actually count on in this world to “say it as it is” are typically your very own – your parents.
When I graduated university, my parents helped me get all moved into the current flat I’m in now. Once all my bags had been put in my room, and my parents had gotten out all their proud speeches about how it’s important to work hard, my mum told me it was time to switch up my style – “enough of this crop top and skirt thing, you’re a working girl now.” It was brash and to the point, as parents are, but – it was true. Since I had started university three years prior, I had spent near enough every day in a crop top, skirt, tights and chelsea boots. It got to the point where I went through a period of not even owning any useable jeans or trousers, because I spent my life in skater skirts and tights. Now – there isn’t anything necessarily wrong with this. However, every day crop tops and skirts are definitely a “younger” look, and well, I was a big girl now – financial independent, moving out for real, for real, and getting geared up to spend most of my time sat at a desk. I was growing up, and my style had to grow up too.
This time five years ago (give or take a few days), I was waking up to find out whether or not I had made it into my top choice university. I needed three As to get into LSE, and, with no real intention of ever taking up my back-up offer if things didn’t go to plan, I must say I was feeling fairly confidence. If anything – I was more crossing my fingers to walk away from school with at least one or two A*s. That said, although I had spent the summer feeling pretty confident, the fear of “what if?” only hit me the evening before when rumours started circulating that Bath uni was sending offers out early. Ironically, the morning of results day my laptop crashed meaning I had to run downstairs to use my dad’s laptop to find out what ended up being really good news. Hey – I didn’t get my A*s – but I did get into the only university I really wanted to go to at the time.