Honestly, I don’t want this to become ‘the diary of a whingey kid’. I don’t want it to be something people see as an outlook for my negative thoughts, and I don’t want to come across as a complete and utter grump literally all of the time. But what I do see this as, is a safe space. It is somewhere I can be honest and open about my thoughts and feelings, in the hopes that someone else reading it will understand that it’s OK to have bad days, feel like shit and not want to get out of bed for a week and a half. We have all been there. Hell, I’m there most of the time.
After a glorious weekend with my nearest and dearest, Sunday found me lost in an enormous shopping centre, hunting out an outfit for the upcoming wedding of my cousin. My cousins are really like my sisters, so this is a big deal. Anyway, I was hungover and bloated and not feeling my greatest, so for the most part, it was a disaster. I did end up getting a jumpsuit and a delicious chicken wrap, so it wasn’t completely unsuccessful, but I felt horrible. I’ve said this before, but I’ll just take a moment to remind you; being so publicly and positively self-confident makes it really, really difficult when you feel sub-par. And that’s exactly how I felt on Sunday. Of COURSE I still have days where I struggle to be positive about my body. I had my boobs measured again, and was three whole sizes bigger than I thought, and every single dress, skirt and jumpsuit I tried on was a disaster. Nothing hung right. Nothing made me feel special. Nothing fit where I needed it to fit. Nothing came in my size. All the while, my sister was trying on and loving everything she found. No problem for her, but no help for me. Almost at breaking point, in a fitting room with poor lighting and an unenthusiastic sales assistant, I had to fight back the tears. Hours of shopping and searching and finding fuck all had taken its toll and I was at a point where I was feeling dangerously low and un-loving of myself.
And then guess what? I fucking found something. My mum thrust an orange jumpsuit through the curtain (the same as the first ‘fit I’d tried on that day, but in a more appropriate size), and that was that. A couple of selfies and approval from my boy and girlfriends later, and it was purchased. But me finding an outfit for my scuzz’s (sister-cousin) wedding isn’t the point here. The point is, we all have days where we feel like shit. We all have those times when we look at ourselves and to point out just one thing we like is a chore. We all struggle to look in the mirror sometimes. I had a shit day. I got home, had a bagel, a big old cuddle with my boyfriend and an early night and then awoke on Monday morning to start a new week with no preconceptions.
Admittedly, the start of this week hasn’t been that great either. Yesterday marked a year since the passing of a lovely friend and work seemed to be a never-ending stream of nonsensical emails. I had an emotional therapy session and an unapologetic cry in the bath. But I got through it. And I woke up this morning, absolutely shattered but with a bit more hope than I did yesterday, and I plan to continue the week in this way. Every day will get a little bit better, regardless of what it is that is bothering or upsetting you. I am starting to, once again, feel better about my body. Feeding and looking after her and making the decision to stop drinking for a few weeks has made me feel worlds better. Prioritise yourself this week, my angels. Do something to make you feel good about yourself and stop punishing yourself for your bad days.
Happy Tuesday x