Tag Archives: girlcasm

They don’t call it balance for nothing

You know how time and  time again you come across a social phenomenon you notice and catch yourself thinking – really? Are there still people falling for this / acting this way? Like girls who cry their eyes out because it took them forever to realize they fell for a f*ckboy. Or people, who don’t really know a single Russian person, think that Russians are evil just because everybody tells them so (personal issue here). Or those smart cookies who think that their bag of nuts is special because it says gluten free. Wow.

I had such a WOW moment the other day, when I came across a magazine promising a new way of dieting on its cover. Like… seriously? You people still need somebody to tell you how to lose weight? Wow. I mean…good for the people who can make a living off making a secret of something logical but you can just ask me the next time and spend the money on something else. (Not candy, ideally.)

You know I’m always here for you if you need any kind of advice, so here’s how it goes:

First of all: dieting sucks. Not having the body you desire sucks. Seeing a skinny bitch eating and not gaining weight sucks. Gaining weight just by looking at things – like I know you’re probably convinced it works with you – sucks. Having cravings 24/7 sucks. The perspective of having to put a shitload of work into changing that sucks immensely and so does not having as much discipline and dedication as everybody else seems to have.

But there’s good news, too: it’s not rocket science. The secret in losing weight is simple – it’s basic calculus. Yep, I know – sounds shitty again, but that’s kind of no surprise, is it? Maths suck and so does shedding weight, so at least there’s kind of a pattern here. Some call it balance, to make it sound less scary, but that’s basically the same thing. And that’s all, (almost) no other secret behind it.

That being said, you can do it without spending money on advice. Without buying e-Books, without buying magazines in the first days of January. All you’ll have to do is count or even just estimate. No need to count calories (or macros, god forbid), except if you’re an annoyingly obsessive person, which I totally understand and will never judge – whatever works for you, go you.

But to come to the point: If you eat like a hamster, you’ll look like a hamster – except if you’ll put an equal amount of effort in working your *ss off. Addition, subtraction, result. And that’s it. The sad truth and nothing but the truth.

Now before somebody starts crying like I know you usually do when I call something by its name: I consider myself a hamster, too, even if I know that some might not. Hamster does not equal to fat, it’s just a symbol. Most of my friends don’t know me without traces of food coating my oral cavity so I do know the struggle. Just as much, I think it’s totally ok to be a hamster, with or without the rat race – this is not a way of me saying that changing your physical appearance is necessary just because you don’t look like straight from a VS runway. Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes and this is not the point of this rant here.

But it makes me angry to see how people take advantage of somebody’s desire to lose weight, acting like there was a big secret behind it, something we don’t already know. We do know, even if, again, it sucks to know that it is all in our hands, basically.

A couple of days ago I saw one of those ‘I lost so much weight and girls you can, too – the secret is easy – go vegan’ posts and I really had to catch myself for a sec there. Breathe in, breathe out. Yes, it might be true, you might see some results after switching to a vegan diet – but I hope you don’t think that this can’t happen if you stick to a normal, not obsessive, balanced diet including everything, even an occasional slice of pizza or whatever sugary products float your goat, do you? It can and it will, if you keep your balance in mind. Just don’t overdo it. Or if you do, punish yourself, if you absolutely need to. Go crazy at the gym. Go for a nasty run. Hate yourself, blame yourself, whatever. And then get over it.

So I guess what I meant to say is – they don’t call it balance for nothing. That’s all you need to know, basically. Of course there’s food that is better for you than other food might be and there’s foods your body might process better than others  – but you don’t need to spend money on that information, do you? And you don’t need somebody to talk you into a lifestyle that doesn’t come to you naturally, just because it promises to make you lose some weight – and gain a sh*tload of energy or whatever else they offer as additional goodies.

The beauty of a simple balance – or calculus – is that it’s in your hands to work the cranks – now isn’t that good news?

Eat everybody who’s trying to sell you dieting secrets, trust me.



P.s.: Come share the love on Facebook – if you don’t share it, at least like it. xoxo

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My Adelboden

When it comes to resolutions for the new year, this one here is my most important one: travel more, see more of the world that you live in. Also: open your eyes to what is close to you. Because the truth is – we all live in such beautiful countries, yet we always want to visit other places, every corner of the world, before we have discovered our country’s own treasures.

I have vowed to get to know my host country better in 2017, which is why I started my year with discovering one of the countless beautiful spots that Switzerland has to offer: Adelboden, in the Canton Bern. Located in the Bernese Oberland, the mountain village is of course a place to go for those who enjoy winter sports, but luckily it also holds a couple of options for those of us who enjoy the mountains for the views, the fresh air and relaxation, above all.

We chose the Parkhotel Bellevue for our stay and we were not disappointed, to the contrary. Greeted by a friendly, cozy lobby, you immediately know you’re off to a great stay: Perfect location for a magical view, as the name suggests, colorful yet chic interior, attentive staff, heavenly cuisine and a spa area, let me tell you… Just the right place for a getaway with a special person – be it a partner, a parent or a friend.

Our trip didn’t go exactly as expected. I had chosen Adelboden in order to force the boy to take extensive semi-hikes with me, discovering the monumental mountainous landscape. Instead, we ended up staying in the hotel most of the time, because it didn’t stop snowing, making it very hard to walk or see that weekend.

I don’t mean to complain, though – the view was beautiful regardless, especially from the hotel’s huge spa area, embedded in an interesting architecture of exposed concrete and wood. I can’t say that we were sad to be more or less forced to enjoy different kinds of steam baths and saunas as well as the outside saline bath – which was my personal favorite, if I really had to name one.

Since this really turned out to be a perfectly intimate trip, I have no more words to lose for this time – I’ll let my photographic impressions speak.

While Parkhotel Bellevue is an old-established hotel, which you can sense from the calm routine around you, it has been renovated a couple of years ago, giving it an effortlessness that is pleasant to experience. Design lovers like myself will be delighted by the way how the modern spirit is perfectly playing with vintage elements of the over 100 years old establishment, all around the hotel and especially in its spacious rooms. I was really sad to leave our room behind, taking one last wistful look out of the huge front window. Yes, it was that hard.

I think it’s important to mention that, being a four star plus hotel, Parkhotel Bellevue has a high standard in everything, not least when it comes to the creativity of its vespertine cuisine and amazing wine that got the boy gushing for a while. The same applies to the way that the staff approaches and treats you – always there, always attentive but never noticeable. I can’t remember the last time I have felt so easy in a place equally pretentious.

The boy and I have decided to come back some time in Spring or Fall, in order to spend some more days breathing the fresh air of the mountains during longer walks than were possible this time – and we already know which hotel we will come back to. Ten out of ten, would recommend.

Have you already been to Adelboden? Let me know.

The Parkhotel Bellevue is an excellent choice, trust me.



P.s.: Tune in on Snapchat for some real talk, next time – on travels and other topics.

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I’ve been having inner rants about a recent group project at uni for a while now and it’s about time I draw a general conclusion from my experience – what do you think?

Just to give you a quick overview of where I’m coming from before I get to the juicy part: I’m currently working on a project with three male partners – one of which is working really hard for our common cause, using his brain, giving valuable input, showing up on time etc. The other two however keep it to the absolute minimum, low budget performance, sprinkled with excuses nobody has time for. In general, they are both nice and all, but there’s just something I feel like every man should be told:

Not doing what you said you would do is so unattractive in a man. Being indecisive is unattractive. Not using your f*cking brain is unattractive. Not doing an effort is unattractive. Ignorance is unattractive, just as is laziness. Not taking the lead is so so unattractive. And excuses? F*cking stop the excuses – I’m not your resolution.

These things might be unattractive in women as well, but they are an absolute turn-off in a man, if you ask me – no matter what kind of relationship you have with that person, personal or professional. You can be turned-off by the indecency of a coworker as well, right? To me, a man just becomes immensely unattractive if I notice a pattern of him not keeping to his word or being indifferent to me taking the lead. You’re a man, after all – at least act the part.

I know it’s difficult to say something about attractive and unattractive – there are countless men out there who probably find me unattractive for the length (haha) of my legs, the shape of my nose or just generally the way that I breathe – but think of attraction in the general sense of respect here.

On this occasion, please spare me all the witty remarks on how women are asking for emancipation all the time and how comments on qualities in a man are opposed to that – I do not work on becoming a confident woman so that we can switch sexual organs and live happily ever after. If a woman is confident enough to challenge, it doesn’t mean that everybody else can just sit back and relax. I’m not asking to become the bearer of balls, I’m fine to work what I was given, thank you.

You know, feelings and all, weaknesses – they are all good and it sure is cute to see some of them in a man sometimes, as a little present, a manifestation of trust or whatever. But as soon as weakness becomes his first, second and last name, things have gotten out of hand. Call 911 or just run if you can. While this is possible in a personal relationship, sadly, oftentimes you’re left with having to deal with it in all other kinds of interactions with people…

And then also, there’s a difference between having weak spots and just plainly not sticking to ones word – because having the courage or determination to state something, promise something and really sticking to it, that’s immensely attractive slash respectable.

In every context and in contact with everybody, really. What makes you a valuable partner in a relationship, to a certain extent makes you a decent human being in general. It doesn’t matter if it’s with somebody you know or a complete stranger. If you think you’re man enough in front of your significant other or whoever you’re trying to impress, but can’t be a decent, dependable human being in other situations, like work or just any kind of social interaction, then you’re still a wimp. And how unattractive that is…

To keep it simple: the most attractive thing a man can do, is exactly what he says he’s going to do – trust me.



P.s.: Why don’t you support my rants and go hit that like button on Facebook? I’d love love love for this little project here to grow – xoxo


Picture via girlboss

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I was born with small breasts. Like everybody else, you know. No biggie.

It started to become a big deal not too late in my life, though. Because they just didn’t seem to grow. At the age of about eight I still had nothing worth mentioning, while my best friend at that time already had quite a lot to show. She had to wear a bra and I was convinced that this was the way it was supposed to be. I hated my body for not playing by the rules, at the age of eight. As a logical consequence I started pulling the tiny mass that had built around my nipples on a daily basis, hoping that this would help.

It didn’t. Some time around the age of 12 I still had ridiculously small boobs. By that time EVERYBODY was wearing bras at school so I got myself some, too. You know, the ones from H&M with the pads about as thick as a hand? That looked super funny if you didn’t have enough to fill them with? Yeah… it helped a little if you stuffed them with toilet paper, just the right amount to max out the full potential while not risking for the paper to stick out during class. So stressful, but I managed for nobody to notice – at least I thought so.

About a year later it finally happened. They had grown. Significantly. They were still ridiculously small, but all of my wishful thinking must have worked, because people were starting to notice and make fun of me, asking if I had started padding them with toilet paper. Even my mother asked. And so did a guy from my class who had always called me double A. Luckily he wasn’t exactly handsome so I could focus all my energy on wondering where a person with a face like his might get all the self-confidence from, making fun of other people. That’s a 75B, you loser.

If you ask me, I swear they didn’t grow any more since I was 13. What can I say – years went by and I have learnt to live with them. Learn seems like a harsh word now, but I guess that’s exactly what happened, as miserable as it sounds: as soon as I realized that no man ever seemed to mind going snack size, everything was ok. Yay me. Who would have known that I’d grow up to become a woman confident enough to share even such embarrassing details as all of those above with you.

There were times when I was super tempted to help those sad little stepchildren with hormones, but you know what my opinion on the pill is. There were times when I was absolutely sure I’d end up having them cut and stuffed like a turkey, but then I came back to my senses, remembering what my opinion on all kinds of plastic surgery is. Phew. Imagine me running around with two beachballs, just because maybe one out of 10 men is enough of a shmuck to prefer stiff watermelons over the real, modest but natural deal…

Anyway, why all these details, here and now?

For one, I know that there are girls out there who are thinking about getting something done, starting at the age of about 14, waiting to finally turn 18 and old enough not to ask their parents for permission. I know that there are women out there who never quite seem to get the thought out of their heads, that a little more might be just the only thing missing in order to be fully confident – even if, in fact, they already have ‘enough’.

And isn’t that sad? To be living in such a dark state of mind, instead of appreciating the amazing fact that you never have a problem finding a pretty (not pretty scary) bra? Ask your friend with the huge tits and she’ll tell you her own mission impossible. Instead of appreciating the fact that yours will probably never sag and forever look like two young chicks? Ask your friends with huge boobs, many of them will soon be picking up theirs from the floor. Instead of appreciating that sleeping is not a problem and so isn’t running and standing. Ask your friend with the huge tatas, she’ll tell you something about back pain and how she’s fantasizing about a reduction. And finally, instead of appreciating that looking tacky is never an issue – I can wear slits down to my navel and still look more modest than Pam A sporting a turtleneck. #freethenipple

And second, I just came back from my first mammography (aka the soft version of it, for females under 40, which only includes ultrasound and extensive scanning by hand) ever and decided to warmly recommend it to you. Besides having my two little girls massaged and scanned by hand for a considerably longer time than the usual five seconds at the gynecologist, the procedure involved ultrasound and detailed conversation about my breasts and their inner life, which by the way is always the same, no matter what size. Apart from being left at ease for the rest of the year, I learnt a little more about my body, which is always fascinating. And necessary.*

So if any of this sounded familiar to you, here, this is your sign: instead of wondering a second more about the size of any of your body parts, make sure they are healthy first. Because breast cancer is the most frequent type of cancer for women in many countries. And because, to put it simply, being healthy is pretty damn sexy.

Don’t get me wrong – me too, I find big boobs beautiful. Sometimes I find myself staring at them, too. I sure wouldn’t mind having them and I’d appreciate them just as much as those I am equipped with. Just see this as a little pep talk to those in need.

Let me know if you think that I’m overcautious or just leave a compassionate hi for my boobies – I always appreciate your feedback.

Enjoyment come in all shapes and sizes, trust me.



P.s.: Did you know that some companies won’t work with me because y’all don’t follow @girlcasm on Facebook? If it’s really such a big of a deal for you to hit that sad button, I hope at least you feel bad for not doing so. xoxo

*If you’re young and you feel like your gynecologist is spending a sufficient amount of time on scanning your breasts (more than a couple of seconds of touching), this might be enough for you and your needs. I don’t say you have to freak out and walk around being afraid of cancer, I’m just saying you should ask yourself if your doctor is doing what he can to make sure you’re ok. Another option could be to ask him to perform a more thorough scan by hand, depending on your needs and situation. Also, make sure to be aware of changes you notice yourself.

Pic credit: love.watts

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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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