I have had a lot of change lately.

Some good.

Some bad.

Mostly good.

Sometimes, when you are in a rut, and you are really really sad, you just need to get up and change things.

It’s harder done than said. I know.

Trust me. I know.

I was in a really dark place a couple of months back.

I was really, really depressed.

I was recently reading some of the poetry I wrote at that time. And wow. It’s some scary stuff.

If and when I publish it here, I worry you guys might think that’s what I’m going through now…(I assume you care – :P)

I’m not.

I’m fine. Now. Alhamdulillah.

And the journey I have been through, makes this moment right here, right now, that much more precious.

I’m so scared of going back there.

But I know, that sometimes, depression just sneaks up on you.


I might go back to that dark place. I might not.

But I shan’t let the fear of that stop me from living my happiness now πŸ™‚

Alhamdulillah I am home.

I’m in Kenya.

I’m in a new, beautiful relationship.

And I am happy.

Happier that I can remember myself being.

In a long, long while.

I laugh.

I smile.

I giggle.

I play.

I am …almost myself again.

So, any of you who are going through that horrible dark cloud of gloom and dooooom …

there IS a light at the end of the tunnel.

I made it.

So can you.

Pick yourself up right now.

Go to the doctors.

Go speak to a friend.

Go find a counsellor.

Google CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) There are LOTS of cool self-help stuff you can do online.


If something is causing you unhappiness? Well, change it!

Force yourself to speak to someone. Really. Really.


When you find yourself on the floor, sobbing, with your desire to live leaching out of your eyes, just….

…call somebody.


You need a hug.

I love y’all

Thanks for reading.




You don’t understand

This pain

Its a drug I can’t explain.


Doomed to dance the same routine

Like a marionette in an empty theatre


Ghostly applause


At my bleeding feet

Hello My Lovelies

Manchester, England, United Kingdom


Despite not having blogged in forever, you guys are still visiting!!

I love y’all.

Heads up…



I’ve been writing lots and taking lots of hijabi fashion pics, just haven’t had the time to upload since….



I moved.

I am officially living back in Kenya, after having liked in the UK for 8 years.


I still don’t really believe it myself.



Silky Shirts

Okay I know it isn’t in good blogging form to post many posts at once.

But hey, you guys know me by now.

I err, disappear for a while, and then suddenly WHAM! A mass of posts at once πŸ™‚

This is my favourite silk shirt. I love the colour. It works well casual or formal.



Updating My Look

Shoes & skinny jeans

There comes a time.

When a girl’s wardrobe has to …grow up.


I went to visit my aunts house. And I was shocked to realise I was dressed in a similar style to my 12 year old niece!

Skinny jeans, long top, converse trainers.

I don’t know if SHE had begun imitating my dress sense.

Or if I have just gotten to that stage where I am dressing…err…inappropriately for my age?

Am I still dressing like a scruffy student?

In any case.

I went shopping. And I unconsciously started veering towards blazers, heels, and fancy bags.

Well, so there we have it. I am updating my wardrobe.

Ta da!

*Drum Roll*

I just hope I don’t end up looking… OLD! *shudder*

(Like one of my friends who is 27 but dresses like she is 37! eh!)

ex oh ex oh




How To Sell Yourself

Bangladeshi wedding at Dhaka

Have you ever thought how much you are worth?

If you had to lay out your best attributes and features one by one.

How much do you think you would be worth?

Not monetary wise – but your worth.

Your value.

Would you be a catch?

If so, what makes you think you ARE a catch?

Are you:









Family oriented?

What positive attributes do you think garner more value?


I was thinking about the past.

And how a certain ex, could have been considered by many as a very appealing or, if you will,Β worthyΒ package.

However, it meant naught to me.

It was like having a massive, juicy burger in your hands.

Yet, you are craving a pizza.

No matter how nice that burger is. You just don’t feel like it.

You want a pizza!

But one persons pizza….is another persons burger.


I am beginning to talk in circles and metaphors – eek!


My point is… (yes, there was a point after all. Honest! ;-))…. we all have somebody out there for us.

Because our exact packaging, though not so weighty to some – may be incredibly valuable to others.

So ‘Excellent cook, listener, calm and quiet ‘ could be exactly what someone is looking for.

Whilst ‘ Noisy, adventurous, humorous and loves to travel’ could be somebody else’s dream husband.

Don’t sell yourself short.

You are worthy.

It’s all about a good sales pitch! πŸ˜‰




Sarah Jessica Parker at the 2009 Tribeca Film ...

If this lady can feel sexy at 47 and with THAT nose? Ey ey, we all can! πŸ˜›

When did our self worth become so tied up with Hollywood dreams?

I have two gorgeous, beautiful friends. They keep telling me how they feel fat, flabby, ugly and unworthy.

They are anything but.

How do confident, young, gorgeous, professional women get reduced to pinching the fat on their tummies, and counting spots?

One of them wants a chemical peel.

The other is on a weight loss regime which makes her feel guilty for every calorie that passes down her starved gullet.


Look, I am no Pocahontas either.

However, somehow, I have always just accepted my body as is. Imperfect as it is. I have just …accepted it.

My thicke thighs – accepted.

My cellulite – accepted.

My flabby arms – love em.

My spots – meh.

As I have grown, I have even grown to not only accept every aspect of my body ..but also to actually find a way to LOVE it!

My flabby arms? They jiggle, and they are great πŸ™‚ I honestly love them. They remind me of someone who once loved them too.

My thicke thighs and chunky legs that I thought were unattractive – someone else convinced me they were SEXY. And now, I believe it too.

My spots – they are like freckles. Just part of my skin. Part of me.

Its just that…our bodies are what they are. Allah made us so.

Instead of trying to fit into an ideal Made In Holywood, try to wear your own skin.



…..that’s how I felt about 3 months ago.

Now, after spending all this time with my neurotic fat-hating friends…I have started obsessing too!

I am basically writing this post to remind me that I actually DID like myself as me.

Because I have lately started dreaming of long, glossy, hollywood hair. Weaves I know, yes. But the dreams continue 😦

I have begun taking close-ups of the dark circles under my eyes and inwardly agonising that I am beginning to grow old :/



What a bag of contradictions ey?


I needed to write this post to remind us all. That sometimes the Holywood brainwashing does a good job at making us feel lousy about ourselves.

All that airbrushing, make up artists, and weaves.

None of it is real.

But it sure does look pretty….

*Deep Sigh*

Now everyone. Let’s do this together.

Repeat after me.

I. Am. Beautiful. Just. As. I . Am.

Once more!


One more time for those at the back!



Have a Beautiful weekend my lovelies πŸ™‚




Do you ever feel like you are living somebody else’s life?

At best a parallel life?

I have always felt like I have multiple personalities.

And that in another life, I would be completely different.

But those other lives sometimes leach into this one and fill me with a longing.

A longing for piercings and leather and tattoos.

And sometimes a longing for a mountain to climb.

A longing for the quiet of buddhist temple.

And then the desire for a NYC socialites dreams.

Maybe these are all me.

And I have enough years left to live out all my different lives in THIS lifetime.

Sometimes, I believe that.

And then other times I look at the housing my soul has chosen in THIS life, and realise that even as we speak it is ageing.

If you could see the kaleidoscope images of your entire life played out to you at the END of your life, what would it look like?

What would you wish you had changed?

Wouldn’t it be great to have that kind of perspective now?

What specific moment would you realise was a pointless struggle against fate?

Would you laugh at your young self trying to make decisions and choices, yet picking the pre-destined one each time?

Struggling against the tides of fate.

Life is like a river that flows into the sea.

We all have a destination.

And along the way, the river takes on many forms.

It may be a sparkling mountain spring initially.

And then a little, trickling happy stream.

Or a crocodile infested deep river, tunnelling through a forest.

All eventually emptying into the great expanse of the sea.

Becoming one with all the water sources in the world.

And resuming the cycle.

What’s the point of struggling against such a cosmic destiny?

New York City



The Glass Ceiling


When you realise what are your own.

And what are others.

I’m pulling out of the rats race.

I just don’t want to be a rat.

And I don’t want to race.

I want to be successful on my own terms.

Not what my mother or my peers deem as successful.

I am done.


We are a generation of women who have something to prove.

Our mothers, did not get to achieve their greatest dreams.

They neared the glass ceiling, but did not break it.

And so, on our shoulders do their expectations lie.

We need to be educated, well bred, respectable young ladies…. who can do it all.

Motherhood, career, success AND riches.

Yet, the glass ceiling has already BEEN shattered.

Albeit a little delayed in Kenya…but…

I do KNOW I can shatter any ceiling I want.

I just…don’t feel the need to.


Part of growing up is separating parental expectations, from your own expectations of yourself.

I don’t need to prove myself.

I can.

But I don’t have to.


Basically, all this spiel and over justification, is me trying to say: Its okay not to want it all.


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