I work in PR. I represent a school. This school has a band. You see where this is going right?

Said band is gunna make it the charts, we just know it. Well, actually we don't but that is the dream.

I am not going to mention the band by name as these stories are just not in line with their branding... and they are slightly embarrassing.

Welcome to the series of 'Me. The unwanted member of a girl band'.

First up, what on earth is fleek?

Well let's get straight into this story. I met the band for the first time and was so very nervous as I had only just really started working on my own with this client. I so wanted to impress them and be grown up. I had devised a flawless plan to be super fierce, Tyra Banks style. Me and the teacher there had decided I would help the girls decide on their style, so being the total fashion guru I am, I jumped at the chance knowing I'd be great at it.

I blow dried my hair perfectly, painted my nails to perfection, arrived 5 mins early so I wasn't breathless from the walk and even ate at the perfect time so my belly wasn't rumbling mid meeting.

I was ready.

Until I was shown to the office where we would have our meeting. Now, have you ever been in a public toilet cubicle? Not a big disabled one with space, no a little normal sized one. Some elbow room for pulling up your trousers but that's the extent of it? No exaggeration... That is how small it was.

5 people were now meeting for the first time in this toilet cubicle sized office. To be fair, I'm being cruel, it was a nice, cosy office for one person. But for 5 people it just ain't practical.

So I am basically sat on one of the band members knees now and I am sweating. Pretty sure my concealer is f***ed and because of the stress, I'm hungry. Great.

Second part and worst part for me is coming up.

We start talking style, I start to recover. The sweats, well, all I am saying is the people in that room were lucky I had put my Mitchum Advanced on that morning. But the hunger seemed to have wavered and my face cooled down. I was talking clothes and accessories. It was all uphill from here.

Then we moved onto make-up. One girl starts talking brows. For the photo shoot, she says, she needs her brows to be 'on fleek'. On fleek? How do I respond to that? That is the first piece of slang from a younger person that I have never heard of.

This was the point in my life where I was officially no longer a youth, I was now in my twenties and well and truly out of it.

I thought I was going to start crying.

I have since googled the term and asked some friends - who are, fortunately for them, with the times - and now it all makes sense. I can now use the word. And hope to God in high bloody heaven no-one thinks it's ironically. That's when you really are past it.