A day in the life

Since I started that full-time work thang, my weekdays are comfortingly and irritably predictable.

6:45am: What is that?!

6:45:07am: Alarm. Right. Off.

6:50am: What is that!?!

6:50:04am: Alarm, right. Off.

6:55am: God, what was Miley wearing last night? Could I pull off nipple tassels? Probably, but you really need suitable cigarette trousers too.

7:03am: Still no abs.

7:10am: Mentally trying to piece together an outfit in the shower. Trying to remember what I wore yesterday. Trying to remember if it's going to be dry enough for those cute open-toed tan sandals or not.

8:10am: Not. Wet toes on the clutch.

8:22am: "I'LL PRETEND MY SHIP'S NOT, SINKINNNN'"

8:57am: Tea or coffee. Tea or coffee? Green tea... and black coffee.

10:46am:

1:45pm: Lunchtime.

The time of day I give myself to do productive tasks for myself. Like:

• book a wax
• make a few personal phonecalls, "Mum, what's for dinner?"
• browse the same section of makeup counter but never actually purchase anything
• buy snacks I'll regret as soon as I've eaten them
• wander round River Island gazing at the beautiful materials I can't afford
• nip down to Primark and buy a slightly worse-quality, worse-aesthetically version to make myself feel better
• return to work feeling worse about my calorie count, worse about my bank account, better about my daily step count.

3:06pm: 

5:50pm: Why does the gym always smell weird when you go in, but not when you come out? 

The gym must be the only place I really zone out. Headphones on, sporty men on the televisions, less sporty men in the gym. Are they rugby players today? Or perhaps it's cricket? I don't know. All I know is that I'm convinced I've contracted asthma since starting this run. Will I ever get to 5k? Actually, it'll be a miracle if I get to 3. Perhaps you're just thirsty, have a drink.

Stitch. Stitch. Ow, oh bugger, forget it, go do weights. How far did you get anyway? 2.4k?! Just call it a warm up.

Bloody hell these things are heavy. Progressive overload my arse. I'm about to progressive overload my willpower.

Why am I sweating so much? Do other girls sweat like this? If I bring a towel I'll be that weird girl who sweats so much she has to bring a towel. If I don't bring a towel I'm that really sweaty girl. Gross if I do, gross if I don't.

7pm: Thank god, it's over.

7:36pm: I feel great, I feel so great, exercise is great, I bet I could do a triathlon you know. I am a new woman. I might even have abs tomorrow.

8:01pm: I'll just have enough pasta for a small village tonight I think. A hamlet really.

8:24pm: Spontaneous trip to the supermarket for coconut oil, prosecco and the latest analysis of "what does this text mean though?"

10:18pm: Biscuits, group chats, Friends, typing about boys and #freethenipple. 

11:23pm: Tried to go to bed early. Tried to read. But Netflix.