Topshop Boutique pinafore dress//Zara Kids polo//Urban Outfitters Chain//Topshop Boots//Eastpak rucksack//Vintage ring//Nixon watch//Stila lipstick*/Monica Vinader stacking rings*//Pandora bracelet
If I had a pound for every time someone had asked how old I was, then gasped abhorrently when I replied "twenty one" (usually in a sheepish manner), I'd be one very wealthy young lady by now.
Given that I honestly don't look a day older than sixteen, you might think that I'd make the effort to dress with a little more maturity to try and balance it out but no, if anything, with my pinafores, scrunchies and rucksacks, I'm the only one to be held to blame for looking 5 years younger.
My dissertation is the current bane of my life but one thing that it's taught me about women, and women's magazines, is that they are always striving for youth. You only have to scan the magazine shelves for proof; whether they're giving you their top ten anti-ageing tips or telling you how to defy another decade, it's fashionable to try to preserve your juvenescence - forget the curves you're supposed to develop with age - there's nothing more attractive in fashion than having the body of a prepubescent boy, don't you know?
Being made feel uncomfortable about the way other people perceive you is completely unacceptable; whether it's because you're too fat, too thin or like me, you look like a baby compared to your peers - at least with the latter you won't be dishing out hundreds of pounds on anti-wrinkle creams and questioning botox by your late twenties.
Whilst I could throw all 10,000 words of my dissertation at you (JOKING - I've barely started), I best stop there before I bore you to tears with my incoherent rant, which is becoming a little too serious for my liking. Time to get my head out of my books and go play in the snow a bit more, don't you think?