I've been a terrible person. A very terrible person indeed.
As you've probably noticed, I've not blogged for many, many cold lonely days. My blog has been a wasteland of tumbleweed, maybe even a little Watership Down-y in that it's been quite sad and Paul Simon-y (But not in a Call me Al way) I wish I could give you a good excuse, like:
- I've been in Switzerland, flailing around on hills and making children's clothes out of curtains,
- I met a prince and my talking crab has been coaching me in how to woo him,
- Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz have asked me to move in with them and have a beautiful sex-filled open relationship with bike rides and flamenco guitars under the stars.
But alas, none of this is true (except the talking crab bit, Sebastian is a really cool guy, if a little highly strung) What's actually happened is that I have had...
A crisis of confidence
We all have them. At least I think we do. You know how it is; You've just had a mega day at work, baked an awesome cake, generally improved the lives of all those around you, all whilst giving Dita Von Teese a run for her money in the sexy stakes and being sassy at your bad self.....and so you go to bed on top of the world, feeling all sexilicious and magic.
The morning arrives, you look in the mirror and IT HAS HAPPENED...
How did Grotbags get in your house?!? Your once glossy hair has become lacklustre, the bags under your eyes would be too big for even Sale day at Zara. You put on the skirt that yesterday made you look like Scarlett Johansson, today you look like a sausage in a wetsuit. You head to work, the bus breaks down, you forget the code to the office door, you've left your sandwiches at home and the ham and cheese sarnie from Boots (which you bought on your points because payday is two weeks away and you've spent all of the money and then some) is frozen in the middle. The office bitch gets one over on you, there's a kid on the bus who cries all the way home, your jacket potato has sprouted, you have a headache, you're sweaty, the boiler won't work....Then the cat vomits.
Nothing bad has happened, you're still the same person, you're totally fine. But that little switch in your head has gone and you've become entirely irrational and you really don't like yourself. One. Little. Bit.
Many of you will know that I'm approaching thirty. It's not a big deal at all (TO MOST PEOPLE) but the past three months have seen my self-loathing up itself a gear:
- How am I still so dull?!?
- Why do I have no discernible skills? (Other than having no gag reflex. Yeah. That's right)
- Hormone based spots - Why?!?!
- WHAT HAVE I DONE WITH THE PAST 30 YEARS OF MY LIFE?!?!
The most irritating and horrendously shallow bit is that I feel physically VILE; My skin, which has always been quite nice (If I do say so myself), is spotty and greasy, my hair's limp and my body is just a write off. I'm one step off buying a floor length poncho and sewing myself into it.
I've become so self-absorbed it's obscene. I wander around with my wrist to my brow, mumbling "woe is me". I'm not even wallowing, I'm WADING. It's entirely pathetic. Putting it in perspective, there's some bloody awful things going on in the world and I'm sad because my tights laddered.
SO, that's why I've not posted on my blog. I'm being a tit.
You'll be delighted to hear that I will now commence GETTING A FRICKING GRIP. To encourage me in this journey and to thank you for persevering with this frankly tedious post, here are some pictures of things that have happened.
|60s Penguin Salt and Pepper |
shakers Fother Muckers!
|My cats turned my sofa into a large |
cat nest which they now live inside...
|I made more of an effort dressing for work...|
|I did a buy at this bag of beauty|