Saturday, August 18, 2012

butts and butts and here’s an update k.

Hello. It’s been a while. I’ve been busy nursing a body full of low self-esteem and excess fat. I’ve been planning my trip to Scotland and I’ve been watching Queer As Folk. I’ve been reading and I’ve been trying to reassure myself that I’m not a terrible person. Some of these endeavours were more successful than others.

My ticket to Scotland is booked and I’ve got somewhere to live and everything is under control re: Erasmus. (Journalism and Scottish people and pound sterling!) I’m as nervous as I was before I started UL. During the orientation talk on the first day of First Year, I was so intimidated by the vast amount of arts students and the presence of the president of the university, that I felt like a fraud: I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be in college. I’ll never make any friends. Fifteen minutes later, I’d already met the friend I’d be glued to for the next twelve months. I’m hoping Scotland will be the same. I’m hoping that I won’t scare the natives and that I’ll find a fellow weirdo to hang around with.

The excess fat is under control (healthy eating, exercise, laxatives). I’m hoping to drop a dress size by my birthday (which is only three weeks away now) and I’m praying for a miracle. I bought a gorgeous dress online that’s a little tight around the hips and I swore I’d fit into it properly if it killed me. Which is probably a little dramatic. But it’s such a perfect dress. Roaring ‘20s style, lace, gorgeous, rich.

I watched the very last episode of the US Queer As Folk last night and sobbed. I borrowed my friend’s boxset in January and 83 episodes and eight months later, I can finally return it to her, my life all the more enriched for having Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor and Zen Ben in it.

The low self-esteem rendered me bed-bound for a couple of days last week and had me crying at every available opportunity. I get bouts of cripplingly low self-esteem in the same way I get colds and usually the cure for both is patience: I just have to wait it out. So that’s what I’m doing. And I’m almost at the far side of a disgusting (and strangely snot-filled) hate-fest. I’m almost ready to celebrate my birthday without spending the night thinking that I am the worst human alive.

I am terrified about my birthday though. I keep having nightmares that something will go wrong. So far, I’ve dreamt that no one remembered it was my birthday, that I had to get my braces off for the night but my teeth became so crooked and unruly that I couldn’t close my mouth, and that I was so busy reminding everyone that it was my birthday that it made me late for the party and I missed out on the whole night. I am terrified. I think the only solution is to drink a lot of alcohol on the night to stop me fretting that it will be a disaster of epic proportions. I am regretting having a birthday already. (Remember when I turned twenty though?)

Anyway, consider yourself updated. I’m off to try to improve my QCA and my body!

Au revoir!


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