144. Sunday Summary

Another Sunday evening and I find myself shaking my head, hands on my hips, sighing at the sudden realisation that I have completely spunked away the last remaining hours of freedom before school work in the morning. After a wonderful evening with Amelia on Friday night I lost my entire Saturday to £10 of baked goods from Greggs and a blitz of the flat that had me on my hands and knees looking for final, minute specks of dust for nearly an hour after I’d declared myself “finished”. Today I skipped out in the sun to meet a friend for brunch at the Riding House Cafe – chorizo hash browns with poached eggs followed by a stack of pancakes and maple syrup. I literally, couldn't  move. It's been a pretty lovely weekend in all. 

I have decided that this week I really need to start eating properly – let’s see just how long that lasts – I know I know I’m not huge but there are a few too many extra cookies in that little pooch, I’m starting to feel a bit snug, a little bit too gelatinous, doughy. See, even my comparisons turn invariably to food- as do my mornings, lunchtimes, evenings and all those spare hours in between. Eating out most nights, substituting meals for energy drinks or an extra coffee, biscuit – o – clock. It’s a miracle my body hasn't exploded already if I’m honest.

I am warmer at night for an extra layer or two though.

I find myself alternating between half an hour at a time long mirror inspections to memorise each lump and bump to avoiding looking at myself naked altogether – I have indeed mastered getting dressed with no visual aid whatsoever. I guess I have to admit to a general feeling of discontent on all fronts, with my looks, my blog, my wardrobe. I’m putting it down to the January blues and the almighty struggle that is getting back into a proper routine after the Christmas break.   

I have, however, maintained some sort of cosmetic routine – looking back on last year I really was slumming it with a pasty complexion, flat hair and a quick battle with a mascara brush. I didn’t feel particularly bothered but I didn’t feel particularly great either. 27 days in and I’ve been tanned and plucked and blow dried and manicured every day – and don’t tell anyone, but I’ve quite enjoyed it too.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still no oil painting.

It’s been a chaotic first few weeks of the year – see herefor proof – and I still can’t get my head around only having two more weeks before I start my new role. Aside from a wardrobe refresh I’m also in need of some lessons in acceptable social behavior – something tells me that walking round the office pretending to be a t-rex or #urbanhour (urban hits from the 90s) or eating an entire packet of Jaffa Cakes with a cup of tea isn’t going to be so endearing with a new audience.

Lately I’ve done some of this.

My computer background for the last 6 months, what can I say, it worked / One of my Christmas presents was a pair of tickets to Cabaret featuring Will Young – it was incredible, really incredible. He has a cracking arse voice / Snow! Lots of it in London town / The new furry addition to the office, I quite like taxidermy and I quite like squirrels so I’m a big fan / My face about to head out for brunch today. A pretty Celine tee and my Chanel offers the illusion I’m a chic London fashion mogul. I’m not.

I also spent 30 minutes on that “straight out of bed” head.

Perching rather precariously on my bed trying not to make a mess in the now immaculate flat, I have my clothes laid out for the morning (otherwise I panic and turn up half an hour late) and a list of posts I really should start writing. If only the lure of awful Sunday TV and something delicious in the oven wasn't too tempting...