Dear Ireland, this is London. ( PART 1.)

How does it feel being able to type this?
Truly, rather exciting.

Already I have written down some words that erupted in my mind; these were done mainly because I couldn't quite comprehend what was happening.
For any one who desired to know, things began happening very fast but the beating of my heart encouraged me with every second: I was so happy.
I could legitimately feel every inch of my body bounce with my steps. 

It started with a simple ounce of confidence and of course spontaneity; I was aware of rejection straight of the bat, but I knew it couldn't hurt, could it?
Of course I was baffled when only an hour later, I received small confirmation: they saw that I had talent.

My initial thought was 'They didn't say no,' but with such things involved, I was highly anticipating the letter to pile in along with an ounce of false sympathy 'We've looked over your application, but sadly we do not think you have potential for this occupation.' 

Yet, they hadn't.
They were going to contact me later...and I couldn't hold my mouth about it any longer. I told Mum straight away.

That evening, I didn't sleep with excitement, not yet anyway but hope did linger around my head, like a cloud of stars you see in children's cartoons. 
However what I didn't expect was they were to become my morning wake up call "Hello? Is that Rachael?"

A very polite voice asked me "Er." I pause momentarily to wipe the sleep from my eyes "Yes it is!"
"Oh hello Rachael, I'm Jenny! I'm calling about the application you filled out yesterday."

And from there onwards, I began running around like a baboon on christmas morning; I should mention that Jenny spoke so painfully fast, my brain physically felt exhausted after I hung up the phone.
I had felt so informed, but not so because my brain was still having difficulty placing together all the words.
"Where did she say the shoot was?" My mother asked, suddenly going into PA mode.
I blink a little to recompose myself, "I think she said Oxford Street." 
"Think?" She almost spat out me a little frustrated.
I begin to rub my temples "She was clearly trying to see how fast she could read the Dictionary to me."

It turns out that on receiving the invitation to the photoshoot, the building was actually on Oxford Street; not as in a small road that simply held buildings, but the one which some how attracted the entire London population within 10 seconds.
I won't lie, I felt utterly disgusted. I hated Oxford Street.

I wouldn't say I'm a full blown country girl, but I most definitely am sure that if I was built for any city life, it certainly wasn't London's; of course, London is full of beauty and I do find every part of it astonishing, even to the point where I was on the underground and I began observing all those around me. Simply because I found the lifestyle to be incredibly intriguing. 

After this particular moment took place, my heart instantly began to race: I was going to London, in order to do something I had wanted to do for an extremely long time and it had all occurred in the space of 2 days. What?

I sort of perceived it to be one of those moments where, some body tells you "Oh so and so is in the hospital.' Yet all your brain can reply with is 'What? But I saw him last weekend he looked brilliant.'
The idea of time going as fast as it did frightened me so much that I began to overwhelm my self slightly; it was typical that the most exciting things are not only pumped with adrenalin but are injected with steroids, so before you can actually process your emotions, the events already finished with. 

Yet a week later after completing half a week in Somerset, I was already home and waking up Saturday morning to then realise I had to somehow gather together 5-7 outfits for the shoot; despite it not sounding very stressful, it surprisingly was.

As I scuttled around my room, the thoughts of my last photoshoot were firmly in my mind: I was awkward, I was fidgety...I was trying to be confident but some how, I couldn't do it and I wanted this one to be the complete opposite. 

I had started to just think about how far I had come body wise: I started to treat my body right and how I gave it love, as well as feeding it nutrients along with goodness.
I wanted to show that with my clothes as well as my attitude and demeanour.

Instead of just feeling insanely anxious, I just felt nervous. That was it. But it was definitely overridden by true excitement.