The Last 6 Months of My 20’s: Day 3

by Jenna
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Let’s not talk about last night, alright? Yes, our neighbour came round and I had 3 large bottles of lager, 3 wines, loads of fags and a burger and chips AFTER I’d already had my dinner. And YES I woke up feeling dehydrated and slightly woozy, BUT I also felt pretty jolly.

So jolly in fact, that I downloaded a self-care app, have eaten nothing but healthy food (jacket potatoes, fruit, that sort of shite) all day and only, ONLY, had a slice of jaffa cake cheesecake because it was left over from the night before.

I’ve turned my arms red by sitting in the garden without wearing enough sunscreen, chatted to my other neighbour with the gorgeous puppy, pooped twice AND done shit loads of writing work. Today is a bloody good day!

Normally after a night like that I would wake up with self-hatred, feel like an absolute slob and just lounge about for the whole day, eating shite and punishing myself for being such a fat minger. But it’s been nice to be nice to myself today and I’ve felt better and eaten better for it.

Obviously, the darkness has still tried to penetrate my mind like some horny dog, but I’ve been able to keep it at bay.

Day 2

Yesterday wasn’t fantastic, my day was pretty boring and I slept in until 20 minutes before I had to start work, which made me feel sluggish. HOWEVER, during the day the ice cream van came screaming down the road and stopped outside my flat.

I thought:

a) I would really like an ice cream because I’m craving chocolate and can’t be bothered to go to the shop

b) I can’t go and get one from the ice cream van because all of the neighbours will be watching and they might think of me as “the fat minger from downstairs”

But then I thought, fuck it, I want bad food more than I want people to think nice things about me. So I grabbed my wallet, rushed out the door before he drove away and stepped up to the van. Suddenly it was me and this miserable ice cream man and the anxiety of the situation flooded my mind. I rushed my order without fully checking out the menu, ordered a 99 with two flakes, paid £3 for the bastard thing and rushed back inside. 

As I was rushing back inside to the safety of my flat I thought “if I hold this ice cream further out in front of me and don’t even have a lick of it, then people will think I’ve got it for my (non-existent) child inside”. And then I thought “bollocks” and took a big mouthful of my rather rubbish, expensive 99 ice cream in front of everyone.

Proof:

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