All the Wrong

My mum found my stash this week.   Don't you just hate it when that happens?

Nothing as cool as drugs or porn.  She found my stash of old photos that I've hoarded since my teenage years, and I'm so happy she did.  They're terrible!  I'd be embarrassed if it wasn't tickling me so much.  Look at the state of this pasty creeper!

 

"No, I don't know who stole the last yogurt and no, I'm not wearing a tent made from recycled bagpipes!"

...Cool hair, bro.

Naturally, I fell into a nostalgia hole.  I assume this is like a K-hole, but you remember more at the end and have less dribble on your clothes.

I wish I could share all the contents of my special box (heh) with you in all its beautiful, spot-ridden, angst infused glory.  Because who doesn't like a spotty, angsty box?  Like most people, I have mixed feelings about The Hormone Years.  School wasn't exactly a weekday party of coolness and sports for me.  I was an intense, stressed out introvert who avoided most social scenarios that didn't involve a gallon of the old confidence lube (ew.  Beer. Why couldn't I just call it beer? What is wrong with me tonight?).  I know, I know. Stark contrast to the Beyonce-esque, swan-like creature I am today. 

By swan-like, I mean white and prone to hissing when threatened.  Legend has it I can break an arm if I flap hard enough.  

Has a swan ever actually managed to break someone's arm?  Someone Google it for me.  I'm too lazy to click one tab over.  

As I was reflecting (giggling) upon my past, I couldn't help but think about what I would say to Teenage Becky if I met her now.  Maybe I would tell her to stop worrying so much about what people think of her.  Perhaps I'd break the news that she would stop growing at the age of fourteen and have to hang off bars by her elbows to be served in some pubs in her twenties.  Mostly I think I'd tell her that she is an idiot and wrong about things.  SO many things.  Here are some of the things that Specialpants McHormones believed:

1.  Dying your hair several different colours in the space of a couple of a few weeks will make it look cool and awesome.  You won't try to dye your hair bright blue, accidentally turn it grey-green and have to spend 3 days obsessively trying to wash it out.  Nor will you give up on that and then dump a load of Hyper Value's finest black dye on top of it.  The result?  See below: 

Also: Chinese dragon T-shirts from Tammy Girl will always be cool.  Everyone will be wearing them in 2015. 

2.  Yep.  Everyone cares so much about you that they're noting your every profoundly uncool move.  They are in fact judging you and only you, and not at all just getting on with their own shiny new internal chemical shitstorms while you paralyse yourself with anxiety in the corner.  Good logicking, narcissist!

3.  NOBODY loves your bands as much as you and your friends do. NOBODY!!!! They don't know all the words!  They don't GET THEM like you do!  GAH!! So many feelings!  I Wanna Fuck a Dog in the Ass by Blink 182 is about SO MUCH MORE than just sexually violating a pet (spoiler: It's not)!

4.  This? Cracking idea.  You can totally pull it off!  Even if it is upside down and looking a bit infect-y.

 

Look, but you can't touch, boys...because it's sore and I think I saw pus.

 5.  Exercise sucks and I will lose ALL of the weight EVER by going on the Special K diet with my mum.  Eating sawdust and pretend fruit in milk for two out of three meals a day is much more sustainable and fun than going outside in trainers and moving a bit.  Ew.

6.  Always trust a van of hippies at your friend's illegal rave in her barn when they offer you shots.  You are drinking a delicious minty substance.  Not alcoholic, herbal viagra. 

7.  This is an excellent look.  Much mysterious.  So goth.

Deep thoughts can be had when you're in mesh sleeves.

8.  You and your first proper boyfriend need to be attached at the face at all times, otherwise no one will know how much you LOVE EACH OTHER AND NO ONE ELSE UNDERSTANDS ANYWAY, WHY HAVE I GOT NO SKIN LEFT ON MY CHIN HAS ANYONE SEEN MY CHIN SKIN?!  

...To cut her some slack, though, teenage me did get the occasional thing right:

1.  This lot will be in my life til we're all in adult diapers, poking each other on whatever the future equivalent of Facebook is from our respective care homes:

I'm the one donning the helmet made of static...

2.  It is possible to stick the big cookie in your mouth whole:

Never be defeated by the big cookie, people!

G'night! 

xxx

Come to the Wrong Side. We Have Cookies.

Oh my lawd.  It's the weekend.  Sort of.  I still have to work a teeny tiny pretend shift on Saturday, but I'm relieved to be seeing a chunk of leisure time on the horizon at least.  It's not been a bad week as such.  Just a never ending merry-go-round of minor, avoidable mishaps.  For about one week in every four, I'll have one of these stints where every boiling hot coffee I make ends up more on my knees than in my mouth, and I turn up to work only to realise that I've got my underwear on backwards.  Not inside out.  Backwards.  I knew I hadn't put a thong on this morning!  

Tomorrow, resident man-boy is going on a night out and I'm excited to have the house to myself.  On a Saturday night, I plan to sit in my PJ's on the sofa, (where am less likely to encounter corners and things that I can trip over) watching 500 Days of Summer despite the fact that I know it back to front.  Much like my pants.  

Realising that the above (500 Days and a night of heavenly hermitude, not wearing underwear wrong) is my idea of a glorious Saturday night surprises me.  Only two or three years ago, I would be necking JagerBombs in panic at even the idea of having to spend a weekend *gasp* indoors(!).  

People sometimes casually drop the idea of being "the wrong side of [insert age here]" into conversation, which is stupid, because how can any age be wrong unless you're terrible at counting? However, I'm recently starting to see a noticeable difference between pre and post 25 me.  I wouldn't say I'm on the "wrong" side of 25, but I'm certainly on the comfier one.  I am going to document some differences between pre and post 25 year old me, because post 25 year me likes documenting things and lists.  Excuse me while I push my invisible spectacles up my nose:

Hang Overs

Pre 25: Hits pubs at every available opportunity (i.e "night time"), soldiers on through work four hours after last "sesh" ended with a bit of a headache and maybe a slightly more intense craving for McDonalds chicken nuggets than normal.  Worth it.

Post 25:  Still suffering the after effects of one night out that happened several days ago.  No amount of burgers and milkshakes can appease her.  Hates everyone.  Is never drinking again.  Wants another milkshake.  GET HER A MILKSHAKE!

Sleep

Pre 25:  Can get by on a few hours.  Bit grumpy, but will live.

Post 25:  No one who dares cross her path after less than seven hours' sleep will live.  You have been warned.

Emotions

Pre 25:  "I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS THAT I EVEN HAVE MULTIPLE COMPLEX FEELINGS ABOUT THE FEELINGS!!!!!

.....FEELINGS!!!!!!!!" 

Post 25:  "Something doesn't feel quite right inside.  Must be hungry."

Exercise

Pre 25:  Considers "dancing" (i.e flapping arms higher in the air to music with each drink) enough to burn off excess energy.  Also lifting heavy bricks of cheese to face is excellent weight training.  With this much calcium intake combined with all the lifting, am never going to get osteoperosis.  Hurrah!

Post 26:  Requires daily sweat-fest of some variety in order not to go ferile.  Bit like a dog.  Requires regular walkies and enjoys finding out new stuff that can accomplish with own body all the time.  Still enjoys flappy-arm drunk dancing, but not as solid a staple to exercise routine as once was.  Mostly because has to wedge feet into silly high heels to carry out activity.  Heels are silly. Wants cheese brick.  Mmm, cheese brick.

 

Example of what body can accomplish #1:  Becky prepares to lift the moon.

Self Image

Pre 25:  Is convinced that own body is betraying self by visually screaming its own flaws in poor onlookers' faces.  Spends inordinate amount of time hoping that no one notices how many things are wrong with own appearance and that dying hair a different colour every month will help to achieve this.

Post 25:  More concerned with what body can do (marathon/lift stuff over own head/open  jars to unlock gherkins and chilli peppers) than how it looks.  Occasionally disturbed, but mostly just amused at how funny looking self can be from certain angles, but would feel weird if suddenly had perfectly symmetrical features and/or massive boobies.  Wouldn't be self.  Brain no longer fights with body most of the time.  Too old for that shit.

...I'm so mature and wise now.  If I could only learn how to dress myself and not share my beverages with my lower body, I'd be a fully fledged grown up.

Now, who moved my colouring book?  I've got some serious art to tackle.  Did you know they do colouring books for adults now?!  I didn't until just this week.  Adult colouring books take the title of July's Best Discovery!

Marathon Training Week 6/Evidence That I'm An Adult

Happy chocolate coma bonanza weekend!! Or "Jesus-Is-Back, hooray!" weekend, if your leanings border more on the spiritual than the gluttonous.  Something for everyone, is Easter! I've had a bit of a crappy week running-wise, so I'm not going to go into too much detail on that subject today.  Been over thinking everything from my speed to stupid things like how I position my thumbs, making the experience a bazillion times harder for myself.  I ran, walked and dragged myself around thirteen tough miles this week.  How I'm going to do that distance twice over in one run in June is beyond me.  But, knowing me, a bad week wod usually followed by a good one, so we'll leave it at a summary of my week, move on and hope for a better one next week!

Mon     Rest day
Tues    5 miles
Weds   Rest day
Thurs   3 miles
Fri        13 miles
Sat       Rest day/hang over (what? It's Easter!)
Sun     4 sicky, too hot-nightmare miles

Now that's out of the way, the topic I'm going to be covering today is grown-upishness.  I am twenty seven years young (sonny Jim!), and now that Spring is ...err...springing (?), my Facebook feed is turning into a combination of two different kinds of status update.  The classic Disney film Bambi was right all along.  Spring gets everybody twitterpated.  For those who haven't seen Bambi (what? How haven't you seen Bambi?  Did you not have a childhood?!):

 Here are the two statuses that I've been subject to:

Status One: Holy shit, we've made a human out of our combined DNA!

Status Two:  Hurrah! We are contractually tying ourselves together as a public display of our enduring affections!

No complaints about the presence of these statuses.  Number one blows my mind because it  amazes me that people can make people out of themselves and number two is always good news because parties!  Big, glamorous parties with dancing and friends!

It just weirds me out that my friends and I are at the age where spawning and conjoining are normal things that happen now.  I am still a teenager in my mind, and have no bigger responsibility than keeping myself alive - a task monumental enough on its own.  I'm hard work!

So, I've been thinking (oh dear).  There are many, many more than two ways to feel like a grown-up. Despite my enduring love for sweets and near total lack of attention span 

Hey, look, there's a dog outside!  Hahaha, stupid dog...

...I can't avoid that I am getting older.  I may not have a human in my pipe works, or a contractual agreement to like somebod indefinitely, but I am terrifyingly, undeniably climbing the ladder to adulthood. Evidence:

  
1.  I have a pension!  I have no idea how much I put into it each month or how it works.  I could have signed up for the big boss to feed rolled up wads of my cash to their chihuahua once a month for all I know, but it makes me feel like a functioning adult to say I have one. 

2.  I am ridiculously hypersensitive about how everything I do/think/eat affects my health.  This doesn't necessarily lead to better decisions, but at least I'm aware of how much visceral fat I'm clogging myself with whenever I have an ill advised Maoam/cheese/Pringles feast just because I can't think of anything better to do at the time. 

3.  I think about buying a house.  A lot.  So far, A and I have saved up enough to purchase maybe a toilet and a "Welcome" mat, but, hey, everyone needs a toilet. 

4.  Night times - especially week nights - are for waiting until bedtime.  I LOVE bedtime!  After the day's final bout of eating and sitting down is done, all I can think about is how much longer I have to wait before crawling under the squashy duvet and waiting for sweet, sweet unconsciousness.  Even if "sweet unconsciousness" can sometimes mean the cat swatting my face to be let out, A snoring and me having the kinds of dreams that would terrify the most experienced of shrinks. 

5.  I have managed to live happily in the same rented accommodation for over three years now with not even a twinge of an urge to decorate it.  It is a student-esque cesspit of dishes and floor-drobes (posh for "piles of clothes eveywhere but the actual wardrobe").  I have recently been experiencing a scarily strong compulsion to go out and buy curtains.  Curtains!  

6.  I watch Homes Under The Hammer out of choice.  I got out of bed specifically to watch it this morning.  When did that start happening?! 

7.  I am three years off the big three-oh, but in order to soften the blow of the inevitability of not being in my twenties anymore, I have begun to prematurely identify as a thirty year old.  Self defense mechanism, I think. 

8.   A trip to Starbucks and a walk "somewhere outdoorsy" is now an idea of a nice day out for me. 

9.  I use the term "nice day out." 
 

 I trust you're all having a lovely weekend, packed with "nice days out" and either binge drinking or going to places that your kids give you access to that would otherwise make you look like a creepy weirdo (petting zoo, anyone?).  Now.  Who's ready to go back to work?  Walter? 

 

"NOOOOOOOO!! You can't make me!!"

Happy Easter! xx