I went swimming last Sunday. I had plans but they got cancelled (not by me, although I was instantly pleased when I saw the text flash up!). Today was meant to include a spin class. It did not. Instead, the time I should have been sweating my backside off (literally I hope) was spent eating buttery crumpets. Definitely going for the slimming look.
So, I went swimming. I’d love to tell you that it’s because I really wanted to swim and get some form of fitness back but that would be a lie. It’s because I had a Space NK delivery that, if not collected today, would be sent back. I didn’t want it sent back as it was purchased using loyalty points. Oh, the first world conundrum. This greasy haired, prickly legged, size 16 human set off. I left the building. I walked the 25 minute walk to the gym only to find out they need an updated picture of me. Excellent. Good timing Nuffield. I’m spotty too, I forgot to mention that part. Plus, unlike the sensible people in life who leave their spots to naturally go, I pick. I pick and scratch and try to pop. I don’t give up. You’d think, if a spot isn’t yet ready (come off it, you all know what I mean), then I’d wait for the satisfaction to pop it when it is ready. But no, this is Person C’s life. I don’t do waiting or even better, leaving completely alone, no no, I continue until it’s red, a bit bloody and angry. So, my Nuffield membership is now immortalised with a awful picture.
I consider turning round and just walking out but I want a cider tonight so need to earn the calories. Turns out, there is another positive to visiting the gym. Free cotton wool pads. Yes people, it’s gotten that desperate. I’m ‘stealing’ – uh, such a harsh word, I much prefer ‘helping oneself to…’ cotton wool. I’ve got 1 left at home and no budget until Friday. Yes, I could use my Boots advantage card points to lawfully acquire more cotton wool pads however, this gym has had a few months of my money without me even stepping across the threshold so, the way I see it, it you average out my usage of their free offering over 3 months, this is basically what I’m owed. I wasn’t mean, I took one handful and made sure there was some left (actually, the metal dispenser was making too much noise as I was pilfering them).
Swim done and it’s time to head to Space NK. I’ve put this task AFTER the swim as I don’t want the shop assistants to judge my greasy hair. I am hoping that carrying a dripping costume and with a strong odour of chlorine the greasy wet hair only looks wet. That’s the thing. I worry so much what other people think of me. This includes shop assistants who I am unlikely to ever see again. In some shops though, and I am including Space NK in that, the assistants are preened and made up like a cat walk model. My dumpy frame and greasy hair isn’t really the look of the client walking into such a high end shop. I feel they are judging me. They probably aren’t. They are probably thinking ‘Yippee, only 45 minutes until we close’ or ‘I wonder what to have for supper tonight’ or even ‘I am so hungover, today is going very slowly’. The likelihood they are bothered by the lady stood in front of them is very low. But I do care. It’s not rational but then when has anything about being ill been rational? Anyway, order collected, it’s time to head home for the well deserved cider and time to plan next week’s activities!
As I get ready for bed, I brush my teeth. That’s twice in one day! The first time that’s happened in a while. I’ve been leaving out the teeth brushing acknowledgment from the blog because there had been a lack of teeth brushing. If I breathed anywhere near you, I profusely apologise. Anyway, as I’m brushing my teeth I spot the God son christening invite. Friend KT is frustrated as the christening is part of the normal Sunday service next week. When telling mum this I learnt that my entry into the house of God was based on a lie! I never stood a chance. Mum and Father lied to the vicar stating people were travelling from a far for my christening so he would agree to do a separate service. On the irony. My parents lied to get me christened in the house of God without any uninvited guests. So, friend KT, if you’re reading this, at least God Son WT isn’t starting his religious life off on the wrong foot.
My fat girl rub is getting worse. I’m slightly worried I’ll be permanently scarred. I may need to resort to sudocreme, the magic white cream that solves everything. In Namibia, the equivalent is call Zambuk and if you ever come across it, I would highly recommend it. Sadly, my last tin is nearly finished so white thighs it’ll have to be. If you don’t have a child/ weren’t a child/ ever walked down the aisle of child necessities in Boots, you may not have come across sudocreme. It solves pretty much every medical situation on the skin. No joke. Sunburn? Pass the sudocreme. Nappy rash (which I’m assuming is somewhat close to ‘fat girl rub’?!), slather it on. The one thing about it though, it takes ages to absorb so even when only applying a minute amount, that area will remain whiter than white of hours.
I’ve felt my mood slip today and can’t work out if it’s hormones, the fact I’ve not seen anyone since Friday or the depression. It’s probably a mix of the lot to be honest and yesterday’s panic attack at home didn’t help. I can’t get over the fact that this is what I’ve become. A crying and somewhat squidgy 31 year old. This isn’t what I Day dreamed about as a kid. This isn’t what I thought being an adult was about. I oh so badly feel both lonely and crowded all at the same time that I’m struggling to see the wood for the trees. Looks like the single crazy cat lady status is here to stay for a bit longer.