Dear Spotty (a letter to teenage me)

This Saturday, I shall be shedding my 20-something cocoon and bursting forth into the world as a 30 year old butterfly. A butterfly who gets sleepy at 9pm, wears "comfy" clothes and chooses to sport a super practical mum-bob that looks less sexy Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction and more 90s boyband bowl cut. What? I enjoy feeling the breeze on my neck.

Normally, at this time of year, I list something I have learned for each year of my life (29 things at 29 etc), but the numbers are just getting silly now. If you tried to put a candle for each year on a birthday cake for me, the cake would likely be engulfed in a ball of flames. Or you'd just have to get a bigger cake.

I wouldn't mind if you wanted to get me a bigger cake. Just saying. 

Today I'm trying something different. I'm going to write a letter to my younger self. I choose teenage me, aged 15-18, because, like Jon Snow, she knew nothing. She also had black, curly hair like Jon Snow's, but I doubt Jon's contained a litres of Silvikrin Firm Hold hairspray and was crunchy to the touch. She won't listen to me, but here goes anyway.

Dear Hormonal Becky,

Hi! I'm you, but from the future. First of all, I want to say that I still approve of your 50 layers of eyeliner and your super 'alternative' choice in clothing. You look so edgy and unique. Just like all your friends! 

I also want to apologise a little bit. I think you expected you at aged 30 to be a bit more...more...than I am. I wear gym clothes during the day wherever possible out of choice now (I know - such a townie!), and I like to keep my little yellow house tidy because it makes me happy to be in it when it looks nice. Also I could only put off morphing into Mum for so long. You can't fight nature. 

This week, I'm taking time off for my birthday,and I've spent all day today waiting for someone to fix a leak in my ceiling and for my MOT for my sensible white car to be done. Not the coolest, am I? But then again, you write questionable poetry and think that those plastic "shag bands" that make your wrists all sweaty are the epitome of cool, so people in glass houses and all that...

Let me think about what's not changed too much, so as not to make you want to prematurely top yourself before you morph into this comfort-seeking alien that you can't even entertain becoming....

My music taste hasn't really changed. I still listen to all the same albums that you listen to right now, because new music = effort, and I finally got that Blink 182 tattoo that you always wanted. It makes me smile when I'm trying to be all serious and busy in meetings at work to see a reminder poking out of my jacket that no matter how old I get, my favourite  band sings such classics as "I Wanna Fuck a Dog in the Ass" and "Happy Holidays, You Bastard". Quite difficult to take yourself too seriously when your tattoos look like the doodles you scrawled on your school notebooks during lessons (you rebel, you!).

We still eat our body weight in cheese at every given opportunity, but it's not affecting you too terribly yet because you (you might want to sit down for this revelation) exercise for fun. 

I know, right? You can't run anymore because you fucked your foot by over training for a marathon in 2015 (sorry - should have given you a trigger warning there. If it helps, the race had a live band on every mile, and you quite enjoyed the bits where you weren't silently praying for a swift death at mile 17. Following the race, you and Amy W hit up Liverpool in your medals and slut dropped in an empty pub until you could no longer stand up...good times), so you happily fling barbells and other heavy objects around now in your free time. Keep an open mind - it'll end up being your favourite thing!

You're not an author yet. Sorry. You still have a knack for getting carried away with ideas and then abandoning them because "they're shit and I suck!!", but you do blog (ta-daa!) with semi-regularity, and you recently got a job writing for an in-house magazine and internal newsletters at a big utilities company. You enjoy it, and you've learned that your ability to panic about every minor thing has made you surprisingly organised, which works to your advantage in this job. Your permanent sense of "AAAGH!!" is your secret weapon. You may never rid yourself of it, but it does come in handy sometimes, and you combat it with weekend naps and more of that exercise stuff that I shocked you with earlier. It's all good.

Now that I've taught you that your goals (e.g to be paid to write) can be achieved in mysterious and unexpected ways, and that your near-constant anxiety can be helpful sometimes, I should bear in mind that I could learn a lot from you too.

I'm a lot calmer than you are. I still react to everything like my hair just's been doused with petrol and had a match held to it, but in a more "it's okay, I'll just put a hat on it and pretend my scalp isn't melting" kind of way. Your reactivity might be a pain in the backside, but I do miss feeling everything as intensely as you do. Everything hurts and brings you joy in equal measure, but I want to tell you to hold on to that for as long as you can, because it does unfortunately fade for the most part. Lots of things hurt your sensitive, spotty little soul, but only because you just care so chuffing much!

My most intensely happy, uncomfortable and low moments happened to me at your age, and they colour who I am today (comfy, driven, often nervous, suffering frequent bouts of nostalgia). I would give up dairy and coffee for life(a bold statement, believe me) to experience a few days of living with the HD, 3D, hormone addled feels-splosion soup that my brain was marinated in at your age. No wonder you had such bad acne. You were a fleshy case of emotion (ew), but stuff mattered. Enjoy it while you can, and I'll try and do the same.

You must be wondering what I'm going to be doing for our 30th? 

Probably not, actually. You're more likely to be wondering how you broach the topic of that gig you need a lift to with your parents, or which new Blink poster you NEED to purchase next. Regardless, we're going to the Harry Potter Studio Tour. Almost-30 year old you might be a coffee drinking dweeb who treats their dog like an human baby(oh, yeah - we got a dog! DOG! DOGGY!! We love him with an unhealthy fervor), but actual 30 year old you will be a motherfucking wizard come Sunday. Watch this space!

Lots of love

Becky from the future (WooOOOooOOooooo...)

p.s for the last time, you're NOT fat!

 

Two equally strong looks, young Spotty. Good job.

27 Wise, Wise Wisdoms

It's mah burfday in a few days, so am celebrating the fact that I've managed to get through another year without taking an anvil or grand piano to the head by writing my annual "Wise, Wise Wisdoms" post to tell you about the many, many important things that I've learned from birth, all the way up to right this second.

Right this second, I am guiltily stuffing melty (because I'm too impatient to wait for them to set) corn flake cakes into my mouth and swigging beer.  Probably not the actions of someone who is truly wise and all knowing, but you'll have to make do.  Or you could do an Amazon search for deeper musings.  But you'd have to pay for those, and proper books take so much longer to read, so...

Anyway, if you have to go, can you get me another corn flake cake on your way out?  Thanks, pal.

For those of you still here, here we go.

*rolls up chocolate smeared sleeves*

1.  If you have any kind of fitness regime, you can attribute any weight gain to "muscle is heavier than fat."  Even when you're suffering from pizza burps and reaching for the crisps drawer.  Denial is a beautiful thing.

2.  Acquiring a dog is more like having a child than you care to admit (despite your total lack of experience with children).  You have to remember when you fed it last.  Lie ins are no longer a thing, and you spend a surprising amount of time contemplating the consistency of and collecting poop (for the bin.  Not for actual poop collection).

3.  Beloved celebrities die with increasing frequency as you get older and every time someone like Rik Mayall/Robin Williams/Terry Pratchett buggers off to the VIP party in the sky, you will feel a bit of your soul go with them.  You will genuinely start to worry about how you'll manage to hold your shit together the day Jim Carey/David Attenborough/Harper Lee etc snuffs it.  Ugh.

4.  The closer you get to 30, the more shameless you get about your Bridget Jones-esque obsession with pop psychology books. Especially ones which are thinly veiled self help books.

5.  You are and always have secretly been Bridget Jones.  Those books are prophecy and not fiction as you originally believed.

6.  Jeans are the devil.

7.  Leggings are the way.  The ones that aren't see through anyway.  Those leggings are most definitely not the way.  The pants I buy aren't pretty enough for those.

8.  I have come to believe (furiously hope) that one day, active wear will merge with every day wear, so that we get to wear stretchy, luminous clothes all year round and never have to get changed for the gym.  The world will become a comfy, pretty, moisture-whicking place, and everyone will be nicer for it because their trousers are no longer leaving unforgiving seam marks in their flesh.

9.  Getting up at 5am for work isn't the living nightmare I thought it would be.  Being up at that hour grants you a certain smugness at having a more "up and at 'em" attitude than the actual sun.  Stupid, lazy sun.

10.  Twice daily dog walks aren't a chore.  I enjoy being walked more than the dog does.  I think that if these walks were to stop, I might start chewing the furniture.

11.  Despite years of people telling me how good Star Wars is and choosing to ignore them, I was still surprised that I liked them.  A lot.  Especially the old, old ones.  So much so, that I've asked to be taken to see the new one on my birthday.  Why didn't anyone tell me they were so entertaining?? Oh, wait...

12.  You must always have at least one smelly candle in the house at all times. I haven't figured out why yet, but I think this might be the secret to being an adult.  Or the secret to always being moments from burning your house down.  Depends how you look at it.

13.  The moment I tell myself I'm going to write anything longer than a blog post (i.e "that bloody novel"), I immediately freak out and stop writing anything altogether.  Including blog posts, journal entries and shopping lists.  May be better in the long run to leave the idea of "that bloody novel" alone.  It only wants to kill all of my productivity.  Stupid bloody novel.

14.  You're more likely to find happiness in small, everyday routines than in achieving the Big Thing that you've been telling yourself you need to do in order to be successful for years (bloody chuffing NOVEL!!).  I have a job I can get immersed in, a gym I can't stay away from, great friends and family, and a boyfriend that turns a blind eye when I steal from his weirdly untouched but ever growing stash of chocolates.  What more could I want?  Apart from more chocolates?

15.  No matter how much I try to convince myself that I will one day figure out how to "eat clean" (whatever the hell that entails), I will not be able to shake the fact that "bad food" is and always will be delicious as fuck.  Food is food and as long as I'm making as much effort to eat enough nutritious things to avoid rickets and/or scurvy during the day, I can have a few(hundred) corn flake cakes too.  Shut up!  Stop judging!  STOP LOOKING STOP LOOKING STOP LOOKING!! *stuffs fifth cake down own top in bid to hide it*

16.  These lists will get a little longer every year what with all the aging.  Now learning/realising that this post will get increasingly difficult to think up life lessons for every year I live.  Oh dear.  Must cram for wisdoms over the coming year.  Wisdom submissions throughout the year welcome, readers.  PLEASE GIVE ME WISDOMS TO STEAL! Err.  Borrow.  I'll pay you in corn flake cakes.  If there are any left.
 
17.  Commutes of over 20mins are great.  Audio book autobiographies and podcasts are even better.  I've taken car journeys with David Mitchell and Amy Poehler chatting away at me through my speakers.  Am so glamorous and cool now, driving with the stars. 

18.  Tiny jumpers immobilize cats: 

"The moment I am free from this contraption will be your last, human!"

19.  Along with the rest of the baffled Western world, I have found myself enjoying Justin Beiber songs more often than I like to admit.  I've now learned to accept that while I am not a true Belieber, I no longer deny  the talent of whoever writes his songs for him these days.  Damn it. 

20.  Much as I think I can, I cannot rap.  Or dance.  But at least questionable dancing can be made fun by enthusiasm.  Rapping can't.  Especially with an accent like mine.  I just sound like someone  who is furious that the cups aren't the right pattern at a tea party. 

21.  Weddings are the best kind of party to be a guest at. 

22.  A marathon is entirely possible to do =)

23.  Eurovision night should be made an international holiday, and the day after it should always be a bank holiday to facilitate hangover recovery and furious downloading of so-bad-they're-amazing songs (Except for German former winner Lena's Satellite, which is just pure brilliance... I almost typed "former German winner" there, but as far as I am aware, she's still very much a German).   

24.  I no longer want to be Beyonce.  I now want to be Amy Poehler and any one of the beast-women I saw on telly in the CrossFit games last year.  Amy Bro-ler...?  Whatever.  I want to be invincible, attractive in tiny shorts, clever and paid to make people laugh with my words. 

25.  Moving to a house that has curtains will not convince your mother that you are an adult who is capable of decorating their home.  Mostly because you aren't an adult who is capable of decorating your home. No, the smelly candle doesn't count as a decoration either.

26.  Finding notes you've written to yourself in your phone months after you've written them is hilarious when they're totally without context:

27.  It's  surprisingly easy to stop giving a shit about how you look. I've mostly stopped untagging unflattering pictures of myself on Facebook and find it much more fun just to point and laugh at my own malleable mess of a face.  Check out this beaut:

I'm sure sure someone out there "would"...maybe someone from the cast of Wallace & Gromit?

Also I would like to point out that this was taken at Christmas.  I don't have a special paper dinner hat that I wear at mealtimes.

 Well, I'd better start thinking about things I need to learn for next year's "28 wisdoms"....Not sure there's enough room for that many wisdoms in my brain.  Might have to delete that last season of Dexter to make space.  It was terrible anyway. Or is that only how my Virgin Media box works?

G'bye!

26 Wise, Wise Wisoms

Well, hello!  I did one of these posts around this time last year, where I gathered all the super-useful knowledge I'd gleaned from the 25 years on this planet and shared them with the whole world (or whatever corner of the internet this blog lives in).  I've just this week completed my 26th year on this planet, bringing me ever close to the big 3-0 (I'm not ready to be a grown-up!! Send help!), and it's time for me to take stock of the information I've hoarded and/or consolidated over the last 12 months.  I'm sure you will find this a very serious and scholarly list, reflecting my advancing years and wisdom.  

Or I'll just blurt out whatever comes to mind.  Whatever.  Happy learning!

1.  It is impossible to trick your metabolism.  After multiple attempts to fool my body into thinking cake = health giving treat, I can finally conclude that exercise and food that doesn't have cartoon characters on the packaging (I'm looking at you, Haribo bear, you adorable bastard) is the only way forward.  This upsets me, but it is unfortunately true.  It also makes me want cake.

2.  Lifting heavy shit is great fun and makes you feel like you have super powers.  Until the muscle soreness kicks in and the only thing you're able to reach in the shower is your chin.

3.  Even moderate drinking has to be paid for in spades.  Hurty, sleepy, binge eat-y spades.

4.  Of all the songs in the top 100 chart at any given time, I am familiar with approx 7, and actually enjoy about 3 of them.  I am no longer home with the downies. 

5.  Inappropriate games, like the brilliant Cards Against Humanity are much more fun when played with grandparents.  They are filth in its purest form.  Nothing is funnier that hearing your Nana announce to the room that she is a "motherfucking sorcerer."  Nothing.

 Cards Against Humanity.  Cards read "What do old people smell like?" & "My vagina"

See? A game suitable for all ages!

6.  I'm actually capable of relaxing if the weather is hot enough, and if I'm within 50 feet of a bar.

7.  A house isn't a home without a feline overlord.  Err, I mean pet.  Why did I say that?

8.  In order to live, I require food, water, physical activity...and Netflix.

9.  I still don't like football, and have this year saved copious amounts of time and energy by not trying to.

10.  Comics can be surprisingly educational and piss-takingly funny.  See: The Oatmeal.

11.  The grass is always greener on the other side. Cliche, but I often need to remind myself how good I've got things.  Particularly when I get itchy feet at work.

12.  Socks don't have to match, as long as they are vaguely the same length.

13.  Dominos Pizza makes my stomach revolt for days, but the call of the dough is too strong to resist.

14.  Eggs are fucking awesome!  I have recently developed very strong feelings towards them.  They are delicious nutrient filled apples from the butts of chickens.  Chicken butts of the world, I thank you!

15.  Mentally, I may well always be 15.  This is okay.

16.  It's surprisingly easy to put yourself in someone else's shoes with enough practice.  Particularly if they are a clown. 

17.  Life before American Horror Story was not life at all.

18.  I really, REALLY want to run a marathon.

19.  Sometimes, when you really, really want to run a marathon, you end up doing too much to soon, resulting in you hurting yourself and having to avoid activity altogether for a fortnight because of your stupidity.  Lesson learned at the physio clinic just this morning.  Am going to go insane, and have no one to blame but myself.  Stupid self.

20.  The desire for cute, fluffy pets only intensifies with age.  God, I wish I was allowed a puppy!! It doesn't even have to be a big one!

21.  Reading and running are the best forms of escapism by far.  But not at the same time, because manholes.

22.  The cliche about how you give fewer fucks about how you're perceived as you get older? True!  I cannot wait til all of my fucks have expired, and I'm a bad ass granny day drinking and cruising in my pimped out mobility scooter, calling out the "yoot" of the day for their follies.

23.  Intensity isn't always a good thing.

24.  Sisters are friends who are stuck with you for life.  They must be mined for entertainment at all times.

25.  I WILL be a zombie extra in a movie one day.  Even if it kills me.  Haw haw.  See what I did there?

26.  I am still not Beyonce.

Hangin' Over with Becky Attenborough

Well, I promised you a post on hang overs, so that's what yer gett'n!

I turned twenty five this weekend (yes, you may shower me with praise and gifts even though it was yesterday), and while I can't say that age has brought me much more wisdom than "try to avoid cutting your own fringe where possible", it has introduced me to a glittering new array of hang-overs to enjoy. Long gone are the days where I could pickle my liver and still get up at seven a.m the following day for a twelve hour shift. Instead, I get my ass kicked by my own body for at least twenty four hours (generally, mine are two-dayers; initial hangover followed by a day of total lethargy and low level to moderate depression).

I have compiled a list of the most common hang overs I experience after a night on the dizzy water (vom juice/ fall-over tonic, whatever) and, like the legendary Sir David Attenborough, I will .....

Woah! Hang on...the iPad recognised I was typing Attenborough before I even finished!! How cool is that?! Being a big enough deal to be pre-programmed into Apple's dictionary, that...wow. That blew my tiny mind! I salute you, David Attenborough!

Where was I? Right. So. Like David Attenborough (I only had to type in the first 5 letters... It could have picked "attention" or "attend", but no...), I will describe a few breeds within the hangover species so that you may recognise them better in future. Please be aware that this species often form muttish hybrids and so can come as delightful cobi-hang-overs on occasion. Pain shared is...pain halved? That's a saying, right?

Right??


1. Hangover 1: The Munch Seeker

This particular breed of hang over wakes you up by telling your brain it needs food IMMEDIATELY. And lots of it. But it doesn't just want any food. It will have a very specific combination of food in mind, and will have you devouring anything in your path until you figure out what it is. I had this this weekend. It took me a full day of eating cake, pickles, chips, bread dipped in various condiments, face licking etc, until I realised what I really wanted was a Greggs corned beef pasty dipped in mustard. Duh.

2. Hangover 2: The Weeper

You will wake up feeling fine. Until the realisation hits you that everything is like, just, so fucking SAD!! And so, so unfair! Life is horrible and everyone hates you, and you can't even eat your sorrows away because you're a fat, disgusting alcoholic that no one does or ever will love. Waaaah! Etc. etc.

Then you will have a bacon sandwich and two or three naps, and everything will be fine.

3. Hangover 3: The immobiliser

Don't open eyes. Will hurt. Don't eat anything. Will spew. Don't.... Just don't do anything if you suspect you have one of these. How will you know if you do? Move your eyeballs around under your closed eyelids. Hurty? If so, anything more that you do will hurt ten bazillion times more. Best just lie there and accept your fate until it passes or you die from it. Either way, no more hurts! Win/win.

4. Hangover 4: I'm Fiiiiine!

No, dear, you're far from fine. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but you, naive soul, are still drunk. Or Pre-twenties (in which case *death glare*... Soon, Fool. Soon). Either way, enjoy the numbness while you can. Because you're in for a world of pain.




So...yep. Those are what I inflict upon myself these days every time i decide to indulge in a little casual binge drinking. So far, I have found no better cure than incessant and self-pitying wailing and eating, so I can't offer you too much advice on that front... I could go on and add more colourful characters to the hang over spectrum but frankly, I'm a bit sleepy and feel a nap coming on. Old age, see.

Born Again Gamer?

So. Lil sis and not-so-lil sis are getting me Skyrim for my birthday... I'm not a gamer, but I'm very, very good at getting hopelessly addicted to things. Watch this space.