Closer Magazine September 2012 Pdf 12 Link

That isn’t sad. That is survival.

This month, we’re launching a new campaign. Forget ‘New Year, New You.’ We want ‘Same You, But Quieter.’

So let’s get one thing straight, ladies.

We spend so long trying to be the perfect girlfriend, the perfect employee, the perfect daughter, that we forget to be the perfect friend to ourselves . Closer Magazine September 2012 Pdf 12

We are exhausted. And the beauty industry knows it. Suddenly, every advert is shouting about ‘resilience’ serums and ‘detox’ teas. They want you to fix yourself before the Christmas party season begins. But here’s the truth: You don’t need a detox. You need a pause .

Here at Closer , we’ve noticed a trend in your emails this month. They aren’t about the latest TOWIE drama or the X Factor judging panel’s new haircuts. They’re about guilt . Guilt that you haven’t lost the ‘holiday weight’. Guilt that you’re already planning a Netflix marathon instead of a night out. Guilt that your washing-up pile looks like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

We try the ‘Cinnamon Challenge’ so you don’t have to. Plus, the £10 dress that looks like Prada. That isn’t sad

Remember that promise you made yourself in June? “This summer, I’ll relax.” Did you? Or did you spend July worrying about the credit card bill, August stressing about the kids being bored, and the first week of September pretending you love making packed lunches?

So here is your permission slip, dated September 2012. Tear it out. Stick it on the fridge.

Autumn doesn’t have to be about ‘hunkering down’ in the boring sense. It can be about retreating to recharge. Put the kettle on. Light the cheap candle. Watch the Great British Bake Off without feeling guilty that you aren’t baking along with them. Forget ‘New Year, New You

There’s a particular kind of sadness that creeps in around the third week of September. The BBQ tongs are back in the drawer. The last of the rosé has been drunk. And somehow, even though it’s still technically ‘back to school’ season, we’re already feeling the weight of those darker nights pressing against the window pane.

On page 34, we talk to three real women who did something radical last weekend: they turned off their phones. No Instagram stalking. No frantic WhatsApp groups. One of them, 32-year-old receptionist Chloe from Manchester, spent Saturday morning just staring at a wall. “I cried,” she told us. “Because I realised I hadn’t been still for ten years.”