Monday, 26 September 2011

Boxercise, Schmoxercise

When my flatmate and I heard about a local boxercise class, images of bodies like Rosie Huttington- Whitely sprung to our minds promptly leading us to book in for the soonest class. After turning up 10 minutes late to lots of agro from the (arsey)trainer we joined everyone else in a punishing hour of, well, punching….and more punching…finished off with just a couple more punches
My body was crying 'FUCK' for the entire time.
What was once a wonderful idea soon became something else; to cut it short lets just say we aren’t feeling that wonderful movable by the end. I had to MAKE my friends buy me cake just so that I could function in an orderly manner because I can't actually PHYSICALLY move my arms. I now understand why Amir Khan has SUCH a great body. Punches = a Wolverine-esque appearance/Miranda Kerr bod.
Saying this, it is doubtful that i will be going back. Even though there is something rather calming about the whole ordeal, you know, the feeling that of punching your partner with the pads on, imagining it is an ex-boyfriend you would quite happily beat the crap out of given the chance.... I value 'moving', something i just haven't been able to do...for about 3 days now. 

Must dash, I hear my name being called...'Miranda Kerr!' 'Miranda Kerr'.... ish.  

Thursday, 15 September 2011

Sweet Jesus, make me a man.

Hier soir, I was minding my own business shopping in the local centre commercial (i've decided that speaking French creates a certain aura of sophistication... it's a phase. It will pass)when I saw a couple holding hands. Literally, just that. And, I suddenly began to sob like a baby. Actual tears gushed from my eyeballs. Absolutely mortified, I ran into the local coffee shop to have a good old brew and I bought a massive piece of cake to compensate for my sudden loneliness. As I sat down, fucking couples were everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Was it a September Valentines day yesterday? No. Is it a romantic month? No. THEN FUCK OFF ALL OF YOU

Yes, I'm slightly bitter. Where the fuck is my 'prince of my labia' in the famous words of Samantha from STC. But, I'm not usually THIS pathetic. I was absolutely mortified at not only my sudden hate for every lovedup.duo around me, but also at the fact that I was sobbing like a lost monkey. The ordeal then continued when I sat lonely with my brew and spilt the jug of milk all over my cake. 

So, there I was. Lonely and bitter with a soggy piece of cake and panda eyes. Even my worst nightmare would have felt some form of pity for me. I couldn't understand for the life of me why I was sobbing so incessantly. There was absolutely no reason. I see couples all the time. Yes, I am (horribly) single but c'est la vie, no need to blub.

This morning I wake angrily and it dawns on me.... it was my hormones. And I spend the best part of my morning cursing my sexuality. My behaviour generally confuses me. 

An Unloved Looney.

Needless to say that after yesterday's ordeal, my parents were NOT in my good books. My mother especially, because she generally drives me loca/up the wall/fucking crazy. I asked her to pick me up today from town, sharing a car with your entire family can sometimes send you into a mental lockdown. So. I walked, but fuck me, I needed a lift back. Too much walking = excessive chaff-age. 

I'm going to say that after an hour, she STILL hadn't turned up. Very, very late. I was a little (ok a lot) pissed off. When I finally saw the car heading towards me ever so bloody slowly (the cheek!), I naturally stormed into the middle of the road, blocking her and flailing my arms angrily to emphasise my pissedoffness. Rightly so.  

Mid-tantrum, it suddenly dawned on me that this car...was NOT my car and that a poor innocent family were staring at me, frozen to their seats clearly wondering which mental hospital I had just escaped from. 

And then mum calls to say she's forgotten about me. 

An unloved looney. Marvellous. 

Wednesday, 14 September 2011

Afternoon Nap= Error.

Autumn leaves are falling and I can feel the air getting HEAVY. Hence my regular decisions to fall asleep at about 2.30pm daily. I adore to sleep in the nudders whilst the wind attacks my bedroom window, and I'm protected by my trusted teddy, knowing full well that when I wake, I can prepare my dinner without having to wait hours. Bliss. 

This very afternoon, I decided to take a nap. I was disturbed by the phone ringing; I'd forgotten I was meeting a friend at exactly that time. SHITE. So, I ran to bathroom whilst on the phone to her, apologising profusely, completely naked, and then fuck. The alarm goes off. My parents (yes, i still live at home) clearly didn't hear me so presumed i was elsewhere. I don't know the code. Fuck shit tit balls bollocks. I'm panicking downstairs, blackberry in one hand pressed to my ear, other hand preoccupied with the alarm box....still naked. Then, that awful moment when the doorbell rings and the over-protective neighbours are peeking through the windows in the kitchen, doing their 'bit' for the community.

And I'm STILL naked.