I Am Charlie Sheen

This morning, I sulked like a toddler. I hid under the quilt until I had to be coaxed out with coffee and food by the live-in boyfriend (we shall call him A. Because it makes me sound all bloggy and him like an exhibit, or a specimen). The reason for my tantrum was that I've convinced myself that no amount to trips to the gym will get me running a mile in under 10mins. I have nubby little legs and lungs apparently borrowed from a 4 year old smoker. I was told to drink my coffee and to stop being so bloody defeatist.

I used to be Sheen-esque in my abilities throughout school. Winning. All the time. I competed in everything that didn't involve too much physical exertion...I may have been a winner, but Wonder Woman I was not. I did shit that I would never have the lady balls to do at the ripe old age of nearly-twenty five. Here's some stuff I won before my confidence was castrated:

* poetry competitions
* art competitions
* story writing competitions
* poetry recitals, in Welsh

The last one is the biggest WTF of the bunch for anyone who knows me now. Bearing in mind that the only way you could get me onstage now is by clonking me on the head with a bat and dragging me on, I used to not only get up on stage, but also stand in front of big groups of grown ups and belt out verse at them IN WELSH! Not even my first language!! And I used to fucking WIN at this!!

And now I'm moping because I don't have the rights to brag about being able to run a mile in under 10 minutes. Something I've not even attempted!

I write pages and pages and pages of fiction, poetry etc and never get round to editing them so I can send them away for publication, just in case some nasty publishers don't like them. Fuck that!

I will bet myself actual money - because, that way, I will always win (winning!), that if I actually get off my fat, many arse and, y'know, TRIED, I'd do alright for myself.

I'm obviously still an insufferable show off, because why else would I blog? And I'm still just as jammy - I just don't try to recognise it anymore:

* I got a 2:1 degree with minimal effort
* I rent a house for peanuts and spend the spare change on myself
* I live with a boy, who, after a year, still doesn't seem to realise just how many annoying habits I have (shh, don't tell him!)
* I work with people I really, really like
* I'm a Caucasian, Western female, who is at least acceptable looking to wider society (I.e people don't run away shrieking "Godzillaaaaaa!!" upon my approach.
I'm already winning at life, so maybe, just maybe, with a little more effort, I could storm this motherfucker!

I'm off to the library to start editing my world-changing novel.








.... I'll think about the gym.