7 Personalities All Women Secretly Have Inside Them


The idea for this post came to me whilst I was lying in bed desperately attempting to get back into my post-Christmas sleeping routine.

Y’know how it is, two weeks off and suddenly you’re a student again and omg should we go to McDonald’s at 1am for supper and do ya wanna stay up all night and watch Netflix documentaries until our eyes bleed?

Anyway, after an hour of tossing and turning and stripping off various layers of clothes (I often wake up naked aside from my pyjama bottoms – you what?) and spritzing 46374 different sleep sprays, my brain decided to go over weird little details from like a decade ago. It’s cute when it does that.

Anyway, it reminded me of a time, as a teenager, when a boy told me I had three different people inside me.

It’s a good job I’ve managed to make this post sound like I’m talking about some sort of group orgy less than 100 words in. I’m cute like that.

But it got me thinking, that actually, we all have so many different people and personalities that merge to make us who we are.
So erm yeah, here’s all the people us gals all have hidden within our wonderful souls.



I actually love reverting back to this cute little goose. She normally comes out when you’re ill or on your period or tired or run down or y’know, just every day. She demands blankets on the sofa, hot chocolate and Disney films. She’s also known to pull out those Puss In Boots big ol’ cutie pie eyes to get her boo/parents/best friend do things for her because omg look how cute and vulnerable and helpless I am, save me, love me, hug me, play with my hair, stroke my back, go to Tesco for pudding for me plz. Love you.


She’s usually seen in January or in the week following the booking of an all-inclusive beach holiday (oh LOOK this bikini is only £10 in the sale and it’s only left in a size 8, better snap it up as gymsperation y’know). She makes you eye up t-shirts with the word kale on and think about blowing all yo money on Nutri Bullets and cacao nibs and coconut flour. She also makes you tut at people queuing up in a kebab shop at 5pm on a Tuesday until hey wait a minute what a shit day at work I’ll take the lamb shish and cheesy chips to go ta.


You’ve lost two pounds in a week, you poured your new sexy hot bod into a lil River Island number and now you’re three cocktails down and eyeing up a pole in a club. We’ve all been that girl. That girl is sexy and cool and fun and omg if you were this saucy and naughty all the time you’d legit be Instagram famous. You want you. Man, everyone wants you. If only your ex and every boy you’ve ever faniced in the entire world could see you owning this pole right now, sweet jesus lord have mercy.


Remember when the world understood mental illness a teeny tiny bit less than it does now and lol everyone thought that all mental patients in asylums run around screaming and throwing things and hitting people and talking to walls. Well, sometimes you’re that girl. You are the sort of psycho girl that only exists in films. You are hideous and scary and sometimes beetles pour out of your mouth and your eyes turn searing hot red and you’re a bit like a wild beast from the depths of the devil’s infested cave. You are crying into a pair of pyjamas and just screamed so loudly about how ugly you are that the neighbours *probably* just called the police. Gah, everyone loves being psycho bitch girl.


It’s 10am and you’ve been for a run, showered, whipped off 20 emails, eaten some egg whites, prepared a presentation and been in two meetings and you *think* it’s possible you could be super human but like you don’t want to boast and make everyone else feel inferior. Everyone ADORES the sweet rush of oh em gee I’m nailing life and I’m so productive and I might be elected prime minister and what should I wear. It’s a shame she’s normally followed up by crash and burn and pizza and Netflix girl, eh? ?


No, YOU’VE eaten five slices of Domino’s finest stuffed crust cuisine, five chicken strippers, a handful of wedges, some ice cream, cookie dough, half a box of Milk Tray and a family size bag of Doritos. In every twenty-something gal is a morbidly obese man despo to escape. Likely to be found stewing in a duvet on the sofa the day before period is due or when midly hungover. Poor mite.


You’re not ready for a baby, nope, not even sure you want them and then sweet mother have mercy have you SEEN the baby on that nappy advert? THOSE CHEEKS, THOSE THIGH ROLLS. And why are your ovaries attempting to get your attention? Pipe down ladies, we’ve got more important things than reproducing to concentrate on, like the new episode of Pretty Little Liars. Broody Barbara usually swans up when your period arrives and for the faintest of seconds you’re like nooooooooo my baby before you remember that nope, you don’t actually want one right now, damn brain.

Is there any other secret personalities I’ve forgotten about? Which ones do you recognise most?

(Dress £15 from ASOS and boots from Ted & Muffy)

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