It’s funny sometimes when I’m clicking the ‘Categories’ list while writing here on WordPress, the diversity of the topics covered in this blog must be confusing to potential readers: dogs; rugby; sexual violence; refugees; therapy; parenting; social media; fitness and career. Eclectic?
I’m down home and Storm Desmond is raging around the 1970’s extension part of the house where I’m sleeping and I’m not entirely confident that I will remain rain-sheltered all night.
Today has been quite the day of self indulgence: I did a particularly brutal Body Pump class – the trainer is Russian and I think she is quietly assessing us for some sort of hard ass military mission reminiscent of stereotypical Soviets in Cold War movies. I stayed for the Core and Stability class after and I grew concerned throughout it that my hip flexors were dead, or dying a slow Medieval death. I’m not entirely sure where the hip flexors are but the trainers keep banging on about how important it is to stretch them so I’m guessing they have a tendency to succumb to post-workout rigour mortis.
After a dash down home, I had my eyebrows; lashes; bikini wax and feet done at the beauty salon funded by my Christmas present from my Uncle Tom Selleck (clearly that’s a pseudonym, although I reckon the real TS would also be a cool uncle) I somehow managed to fall asleep during an Embrowdery session (Google it – it involves pain, but being a recovered self harmer, this pain is nothing to me: I laugh in the face of your needles. Ironic seeing as I just took painkillers for my period cramps). Speaking of periods, I got mine today which, according to my period tracker app (yes, that’s a thing) Clue, is only Day 26 which seems super short for my cycle which is usually around 32 days. Damn, I’ve missed my fertile window again. Try the Clue app if you’re as useless as me for keeping track of your non-birthcontrol controlled period. I’m wondering, as I type, if the bad SaltScrub sweats this week are in fact linked to my period after all. but I definitely need to track that more as evidence.
Ok, the wind is freaking me out. I kind of wish I was in the main part of the house. I’m glad I have the dogs to cuddle up with seeing as Idris Elba wasn’t free tonight, or doesn’t know who I am. There was something else I wanted to write about but I’m so tired now that I can’t think straight.
Oh, I bought new gym clothes on sale in Tesco. Wow. I’m so glad I remembered to tell you that.
There’s kind of a new man on the scene. I guess that’s more significant than new gym clothes. Or is it? Handsome; has a job (and a car); replies to texts; isn’t needy/ a selfish prick/ an alcoholic/a weirdo – seems too good to be true. He’s even got a ticket for my choir’s Christmas concert. But if I say anymore or let myself feel even remotely cute about it, then it’ll all go fuckways. It probably will anyway. Could I be bothered making the effort though, no matter how much I like him? That’s the real question. Effort inevitably leads to hurt.
All in all, a steady and productive couple of days (yesterday was all gym, housework and choir) and if tomorrow works out as planned, I should be on a three day up beat.
And now bed, if the dogs will let me in.