Category Archives: Personal

Happy New Chill

You know what the absolutely most annoying people on earth must be? Those who go for a run on January 1st. Insert eye roll GIF. Zurich seems to be full of them. Disgusting. F*cking chill. You know what we did on Jan 1st and 2nd? We went for long walks with the dog and had pizza and other friends help us not to go too crazy on that New Year New Me mood. And non, nous ne regrettons rien.

Now that we’ve got my fitness motivation sorted, let’s compare last year’s resolutions with those I wanted to have this year – because I was shocked.

Not to be all mimimi at the beginning of the new year, but I had a rough 2016, really. I had one of those years you can’t wait to be over with. It started bad, went on ok and finished terribly, for the past four months. I had some personal failures and a lot of pain caused by others and I felt so exhausted of all of it. F*cking see you never again, 2016 – thanks for nothing.

Somewhen at the end of my struggle, I started wondering if it might have turned out a lot more bearable, if I had been a little different myself. More brave. More tough. Less negative. Less whiney. More confident and more I’m gonna eat you for breakfast. Less f*cking queen of overthinking. If anything, that’s what I had been missing all along. Not a fit, sexy physique and whatever else all you 1st of January joggers are hoping for. Don’t you know that nobody likes a sober, skinny bitch anyway?

I’m a person who needs a clear cut, an end and a beginning, which is why I spent the last days of 2016 impatiently waiting for 2017 to come, to become different, for me to become different. My resolutions for the new year were sorted – or so I thought – and I couldn’t wait for the magic of new beginnings to come.

Today, after having spent two slow days with the boy, enjoying the brand new year, me and my motivation went to have a look at last year’s resolutions post, to see what had changed during this demoralizing year that 2016 has been – the perks of writing a blog. And what can I tell you…see for yourself or in short:

“in the new year, I would like to:

  • complain less, thank more
  • have no fear
  • never forget what I bring to the table
  • be more patient
  • never be easily satisfied
  • demand more
  • be more generous with love and kindness towards my close circle – they are always the ones who can’t be considered enough

I’m sure I forgot ten other powerful resolutions to make, but you get what I mean – just be more of a balanced, satisfied and confident person, you know. Is that a plan?”

Well, I guess that’s what you call a fail. In other words: f*cking nothing has changed. Kind of a shock, I have to admit. How can this be? Starting off with such good intentions and ending up even more wracked than before? I suck. Resolutions suck. New years suck. I’m done making resolutions for good.

Or am I?

Honestly, these are good resolutions. Necessary ones. Look at them. Imagine if I could make all of them work, or let’s say, at least half of them? I owe it to a lot of people to stop the whining. To myself, above all, but also to those who always believe in me and keep telling me that everything is going to be alright.

With all the right resolutions on hand – they must be right, for, without me knowing, they have sticked around for a whole year, waiting for me to finally get my *ss going – the only thing I need is to find a way to make them true. And didn’t some smart person somewhen say something about how the right tool is always there?

So let’s make my resolution a short one this year: Don’t forget what it was that made last year so terrible and don’t let it happen again. Also: chill.

I’m a bitch, but a little part of me hopes that those people with their resolutions to be super sweet and super sporty in 2017 fail as miserably as I have failed with mine in 2016. Oops. Good luck to all you skinny bitches xoxo

What are your resolutions? I’m really interested what the last year has taught you. Let me know – except if you just came from your third run in 2017.

F*cking chill, trust me.


P.s.: You should follow on Snapchat or at least Facebook.

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I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been kind of offline for a couple of days over the Holidays. If you’ve noticed – that’s probably a good sign, you’ve been missing something, whether you like to admit it or not. If you haven’t, then it probably just proves the point of my absence: nobody cares about how many dinners you had with your family, what you had to eat, to drink and how your Christmas tree looked – except if you’re Evgeni Plushenko, owner of a tree as fugly as 2016:

I didn’t have a special reason to be M.I.A. I just needed a little break, you know? From everything. Uni, reality, social media and whatever else that is taking freedom away from me, day by day. And then I had this thought – isn’t Christmas traditionally family time, anyway? Not let me snap that time? I know, shocking, but I kept to it.

To answer all of the questions that might have arisen in the meantime:

Rest assured, I did gain a little weight over the Holidays. Of course, like you, I had too much to eat a couple of days in a row. Hang loose. Treat yourself and all that. I also had a couple of drinks. Some bubbly, even, even though I didn’t let you know by posing with it – I’m sorry. Did I get some presents? Yes. I didn’t open them while sitting under the Christmas tree, hence no visual proof for you, you must understand. I did dress up a bit, though. On the first night, at least. The other nights I went from comfy to maybe a little sloppy. Because that’s how we do it, my family and I.

I guess that’s all you need to know about my Christmas, isn’t it? Amazing. Just like that, I managed to catch up on all the hours I didn’t spend with you during those couple of days. To be fair, I only trusted you guys to be without me for such an unusual period of time because I knew that there were enough Insta-whores out there to keep you entertained in case you needed your fix of stereotype snapshots over the Holidays.

Don’t worry though, I’m not here to make some dramatic hypocritical statement about how social media is not life and how offline is the new luxury. But I do have to admit that it was a little amazing, not thinking about my phone and all. I might make it a semi-regular habit or something. Nothing too strict. I’m still an addict, after all.

There’s another thing my time off made me realize, which you’ll probably find as obnoxious as all of the above: breaking out of your routine once in a while is nice – whatever it might be.

For me it was my habit of sharing every single step of the day with you, via various channels – not exactly a routine I’m in the position to complain about, I know. You’re absolutely right if you say that nobody is forcing my sad attention-whoring self to do this.

But I’m talking about routine in general. Whatever it is that you’re doing every single day – I’m not saying it’s all bad, I’m saying you might want to give yourself a break from it, even if it’s just for a couple of days. Let yourself miss it. Let yourself miss some people. Let people miss you (I got a couple of messages, believe it or not). You might even end up missing that chore you hate so much, for whatever twisted reason. Impossible is nothing.

I think it’s a good resolution, if you absolutely have to have one – a combination of to take nothing for granted and to take nothing too seriously. Your imaginary friends on social media won’t miss you too much if you decide to cut the updates from time to time, just as your grades won’t fall dramatically if you decide to give yourself a little break during the Holidays – which is another exciting breakout I’m allowing myself for another couple of days.

Do you have a routine you can see yourself taking a break from? Let me know.

Have a break, trust me.



P.s.: Honestly, you need to start following @girlcasm on Facebook AND Snapchat from now on – companies want to see those numbers grow. Merci xoxo

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If there’s one thing I hate in this world – and I know, what a nice world must I live in – it’s pet names. Not per se, but those disgusting standardized ones – honey, darling, baby, babe, or as the German say Schatz, Süsse, you name it. You can keep them. Shove them up somebody else’s tushy, mine has standards.

It’s simple: as with anything else in this world, whatever comes custom-made is desirable – the rest is just food for the masses. What might sound arrogant at first – and frankly, of course not feasible in daily consumption, for me either – shouldn’t sound too wrong at second thought, thinking about somebody you really care about. So stop the babe’s and honey’s and don’t accept them in return. You’re better than that. Or how do you think did he call that c*nt he was dating before he met you and all of those he tindered three years ago, not long after matching them? Exactly. Eww.

I don’t even know why I have to talk about this – I can’t be the only one noticing this? It sends shivers down my spine whenever I hear people using such names on their partners. I find it so cringe-worthy. And when they use it on me – it’s over. I instantly feel repulsion. You and me, we’re not meant to be.

And yet, I know people, even friends, who are in fact using such names. On a daily basis. As if there was nothing wrong with it. Friends. I can’t. It’s like they say…imagine you’re falling in love with somebody and find out that he claps at the end of a flight. That’s how I feel about those names. I can’t.

Call me a pigeonholing bitch, but when I hear you use such names, I instantly feel like I know a great deal about you. I imagine that your social media nickname is your first name underline en vogue and that it’s about time that you die that nasty hair line of yours. Your idea of interior design is probably hanging a huge Prada Marfa sign somewhere in your flat and you and your BFF have a couple of matching outfits, because you’re dreaming of the same things, anyway. Instagram is full of such girls, calling other girls they don’t know all of those names, as if they were super close – and you’re probably one of them. So not en f*cking vogue.

I know it might not everybody’s idea of romance, but as I have already mentioned a couple of times here, the boy calls me short legs. Because of my short-ass legs. And I love it. Not the fact that I haven’t been blessed with VS Angles legs (and other body parts), but the fact that it’s me. It’s what makes me feel close when he walks and I have to walk faster in order to keep up with his longer steps. Call me crazy, but I’d much rather be called short legs than any other typical pet name.

And I call him Wursti, which is German and like a belittled version of sausage. Not because of his third leg, but because of the fact that we both like to eat and I like to make fun about the fact that you can see it. Nothing dramatic, just for the sake of the name. I could never call him honey or whatever. It just never would transport the same feeling.

Before you look down your nose at me: I’m not saying that you should call your special someone equally unsexy, even if affectionate names. This is probably an extreme example. But affection comes in all forms and sizes and don’t you think your special someone deserves a special name, something you haven’t called others before, whatever it might be?

I’d love to hear the names you call your loved ones and the story behind them – leave me a note! xoxo

You might be a babe, but you’re not babe, trust me.


P.s.: I do know that many of my readers will probably disagree, but as usual: please don’t be offended, read my disclaimer first. If you agree, why don’t you visit @girlcasm on Facebook? xoxo

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A couple of months ago I was asked to write a post on women in the blogosphere and how they don’t like to see their fellow comrades-in-arms win, let alone support them. At that time I was like yeah, whatever, what do I care about the tiny battles fought on the grounds of Berlin fashion week?

But the truth is, that this is actually a common pattern in the female world, which is why it’s totally worth saying a couple of words about it – what do you think?

I was reminded about this topic two or three weeks ago, when I was sitting at a dinner table for my friend’s birthday. In a conversation between men and women, the question as to why women sometimes get along better with men than they do with women arose. I guess there are a few opinions on this. Some will blame it on a desperate yearning for D and attention, others will say it’s because there’s too much drama when females get together. My friend had the following solution on hand: she said she preferred to be friends with men because it usually didn’t involve competitiveness – something it did involve with most women she met.

That night I hated to admit that she was right. Eww, it hurts. Admitting that we’re not in the place we always say we are.

In the last couple of days, seeing #imwithher everywhere, made me aware of one thing – correct me if I’m wrong: we’re big in promoting fellow women and our solidarity with them for a greater cause, not when it comes to an issue that affects our own sphere of action, though. Meaning: if she’s potential competition, I am most definitely not with her, no – I f*cking hate the way she breathes.

Now I know that this might seem logical. We’re raised on competition, competition is what makes the world go round. Everything is a competition, no need to mimimi about it.

But how sad is it when competition comes in the way of things. Of random encounters, of work that should be done, of common goals or even friendship. And it doesn’t seem to stop in the course of a lifetime. It starts with toys, continues with clothes, boys and looks. Currently, I’m in a place in life where women of the same age see each other as competition in the working environment. Sometimes I’m worried that older women might see me as threat to their youth. Depending on the situation, I sometimes choose to dress down in a certain way, in order to avoid any possible tension – etc.

Now I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but think about it. How many times can you remember where somebody – a woman – obviously saw you as competition and probably didn’t wish you any good, where somebody was cold or fake with you from the very beginning for no reason – or where you were that woman, maybe.

Coming back to the world of bloggers, I know for a fact that even such silly things as the question whether to like, comment or follow somebody often is based on considerations about the level of competition. God forbid you might say something nice about somebody with the same goals as you have. Same goes for people who actually know you and are up to date with your life, not in a friendly way, though – you might remember another post on the topic of following from some while ago.

There are numerous examples to this, but to cut the sobbing short: I just wanted to remind you – as I reminded myself – that #imwithher shouldn’t be reserved for those fellow females who are out of our league, anyway. If you’re among those who preach equality and consider their mindset a feminist one, if you want the image of women being too weak to run a serious function to disappear, you’ll need to start with yourself first. You need need to ask yourself, who you’re not with and why – and then get the f*ck over it.

I know that some things are easier said than done. I know that insecurities play a big role and I know that it takes more work with some than it does with others. Like those snitches who dare to as much as look at your boyfriend? F them, I’m with you here. But start with saying nice things about those who you feel threatened by – you’ll see it doesn’t hurt, it might even start to feel good at some point.

Always happy to hear about your experience…let me know!

You should be with them all, trust me.




P.s.: If this offends you, you might want to check my disclaimer first. If it doesn’t, why don’t you visit @girlcasm on Facebook instead? I’m always happy to see you like, follow, comment or share the love. And if you’re interested in a free #girlcasm bracelet, do not hesitate to contact me xoxo

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So 2012

Finally something life-changing has happened to me, something I’d like to share with you. Two things, to be exact. They weren’t interlinked in any way but make total sense together now, which is why you’ll have to read them in the following. Here we go:

I had interviews for a job in the last two weeks, a series, all for one job. I was prepared, my profile totally matched the position, I knew I had everything I needed to succeed, be it knowledge or personality. The first two interviews went great. I was confident. I knew I was the girl for the job.

The last one didn’t. I knew it from the very beginning. I wasn’t confident that day, thinking and worrying about different things and I started to doubt myself. The second I entered the interview I knew I was going to fail. Just because. Not my day. I was sitting there, talking about myself, but not in the way I wanted to. It all felt as if I was asking them to give me a chance, when really it should have been me acting like I was their only choice.

While I was waiting for my rejection to hit me, somebody told me about a girl I knew from my studies, a couple of years ago. Apparently she is currently applying for firms that, not only in my opinion, are completely beyond what she has to offer, in every aspect. She wasn’t exactly known for her brains and just in general not somebody we had ever pictured for a demanding career, more the marry rich type of girl, to be blunt. I know that this is not a nice thing to say, especially in this context you might get this the wrong way, but….boohoo – such is life.

But you know what that girl obviously has? An insane level of confidence. I don’t want to get in too much detail here, but she’s basically H&M applying to be the next Chanel. She’s a sausage begging to be your new filet. She’s what’s left of your expectations as soon as reality hits you unfiltered. But she’s confident and I’m almost certain that she’ll get where she’s aiming at, no matter how incredible it will seem for all of us who think so little of her. Good for her – and honestly, I even respect that.

Meanwhile, I’m left being super disappointed. Not because of the chance that I have potentially missed. Things happen, it’s not even such a big of a deal. I have enough reasons to not be too sad to not starting work this week, while I still have a couple of exams to pass and my thesis to write. I’m not devastated about the rejection, otherwise I’d probably not share it with the world.

But I’m super disappointed in myself and the fact that I let doubts come in my way when I really had no reason at all.

It’s not like it’s breaking news that it’s often those who can’t really afford it have the most confidence – think of the tons of people who apply for casting shows, convinced that they are the sh*t or the mass of girls who put ‘model’ in the bio of their Instagram in order to justify the number of half-naked selfies they upload every day. I’m sure you have come across many people in your life, thinking – how the flying f*ck did you get here? And it’s just as known that other people often doubt themselves, even if they have little to no reason to do so. I know amazing people, men and women, who I wished saw this.

Personally, I will keep this in mind. I will not let doubt come in my way anymore, at least I’ll try. I know it’s easier said than done, but confidence is so important. It’s your real-life filter. It makes such a difference. It’s what often separates failure from success. It’s what makes idiots all over the world come further than anybody who might deserve it in terms of competence. Think Trump. Think your crush’s girlfriend. Think that girl who really thinks she can work in anything involving analytical reasoning when she’s still having problems keeping track with the number of D she’s getting on a weekly basis, from what I’ve heard.

I don’t want to be too cheesy but there are so many people, especially girls, who are far too special to be the only thing to be standing in their way. Let’s all make it a point to think of all the mediocre people out there succeeding, next time we doubt ourselves. If they can do it, you can do it. Go get them.

Self-doubt is so 2012 – trust me.


HUGE DISCLAIMER: I don’t mean to offend anyone, this is just a random example emphasizing my own, major weakness that I feel many other people have, too. If you are offended, please make sure to read my disclaimer first.

P.s.: If you agree with my blabla, why don’t you visit @girlcasm on Facebook, like, follow, comment or share the love? And please feel free to contact me for a free #girlcasm bracelet if you’d like to have one! xoxo

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