Treading water

As someone who has struggled with body issues growing up, I have tried almost every diet and exercise fad under the sun in order to obtain a somewhat satisfactory physique (I'll let you know if that ever happens). I know too much about calories and supposed weight-loss techniques than any average teenager should. Seriously, I cry watching The Biggest Loser - I'm pretty sure I have a problem

So, when my sister suggested I join her and her friend at an aqua aerobics class, I jumped at the chance. I won't bore you with jargon, but basically, it's supposed to be a great all-round workout, and I was just after eating an entire packet of biscuits ...

I would HIGHLY  recommend aqua aerobics for several reasons. Firstly, you will not have the misfortune of seeing any of your friends/schoolmates at the class, and will therefore not be ridiculed for the rest of your life for going to an aqua aerobics class. In fact, you'll probably be the youngest person there. By a country mile.

Secondly, if you're in any way self-conscious, rest-assured: this class will make you feel like a goddess. You are surrounded by overweight middle-aged women (and a man, in my case), in ill-fitting swimsuits, happily bobbing, jumping and running in the pool as if their lives depended it on it. Next to them, you will look like Mila Kunis.

Thirdly, you will more than likely find the whole affair bloody hilarious. Let me set the scene: you are in the pool, surrounded by said middle-aged women and man, following the instructor, while "Maniac" from the movie Flashdance plays loudly in the background. Just before the chorus starts, the instructor orders you to sprint as fast as you can. Now visualise this group of people sprinting like hamsters on wheels for the entire chorus. In water. Yeah. Exactly.

All jokes aside, it is quite tiring and you do work up a sweat; although the last class I went to, a man swam past me, wheezing, "You're far too young and fit to be here!"

So who knows - you might even pick yourself up a hot pensioner if you're lucky!

Home

There's something about hotel breakfasts that I love.


Maybe it's the lukewarm slices of toast smeared with those measly packets of butter, cut in to triangles to increase it's deliciousness. Maybe it's the wide array of fruit juices that would never be available to me in my own home, (it's water, milk or tea on offer, and you'd be lucky to get that even on a good day). Maybe it's those miniature boxes of cereal that contain barely enough cereal to feed a small rodent. Maybe it's the fact that you have to get up at the crack of dawn just to experience the whole affair - hotel breakfasts do NOT take hungover weddings guests or screaming children into consideration.

I love everything about hotels. Everything about them reminds me that I am currently on a micro-vacation away from the stupid people and stupid stresses of my everyday life. The unnecessary bedding in the rooms? Love it. The uncomfortable lift rides with fellow holiday-goers? Just another opportunity for me to act awkwardly around human beings. The poor selection of TV channels in the room? You're on holiday, why would you be watching TV anyway?

I have many childhood memories of staying in hotels with my family. On one occasion, I stayed up until all hours with my brother, watching WWE Wrestling. On another, I ran up and down the corridors of the hotel with my brazen cousins, knick-knocking on every door we passed. Ah. Those were the days indeed ...

Yet, I think you will all agree when I say the night's sleep you have when you finally arrive home, in your own bed, under your own excessive bedding, feels like the best night's sleep you ever had.  

An open book

I've been told that my mood is infectious.

In some ways, this is a very good thing: I've been told that I'm funny, and that I have a knack for cheering people up in their times of woe. I need a license for my laugh - very loud, boisterous, often left hanging in the air long after the conversation has ended.

However, my sister made a point to me the other night that, when I am upset or angry, it is apparent. Not only that, but it affects the people around me and rubs off on them, to the point where they are put in a foul mood. Infectious? Sounds more poisonous to me.

It is not my intention to labour people with my bad moods and my issues - not at all. I can't help it. I wish I wasn't so bloody transparent. Sometimes, I'd much prefer just to be left stewing with all my angry, hormonal thoughts, unbeknownst to anyone else, without disturbance,

There are benefits, mind. Even my least intuitive of friends knows when I'm sad or pissed off, (sometimes just by how I text them back), so they can talk to me and attempt to cheer me up, as opposed to the other way around. It's reassuring to know that I don't have to struggle with whatever anxieties I am dealing with alone.

Ever since I can remember, I have been a sensitive, (some may say 'overly'), soul. It doesn't take a lot to upset me. I have a bad habit of taking other people's problems to heart and trying to rectify them as though it were my own personal mission. Prioritising is most definitely NOT one of my strong points. I am easily stressed, and, admittedly, a lot of the grief I deal with is brought entirely on by myself. It has a dominoaffect - I try to help others, leads to me getting upset/stressed, which leads to me infecting everyone else in my household with my bad vibes.


 So technically, it's everyone else's fault I'm such an open book. Haha!

Party hard, suffer harder

You know how there's always that one idiot at a party who drinks their own weight in alcoholic beverages until they lose power over the limbs? Yeah. Last night, that was me.

It was my boyfriend's friend's birthday. I didn't know many people. There was drink in abundance. I was like a kid in a candy shop, with a pathetic point to prove. It was never going to end well.

Pacing myself didn't come into it - I drank whatever I saw as if it was water. Even after my boyfriend begged me not to drink any more, I went back and had more shots with my friends. I thought I was invincible. (I'm not going to say what exactly I drank and how much, just trust me when I say it was a ridiculous amount).

All actions have consequences. Next thing I know I can barely walk, and I am after puking all over myself, my dress, and my boyfriend. My boyfriend text my dad and told him I would be home in ten minutes. I was given a lift home off my friend's very obliging mother, and was sent in home, tail between my legs. My whole family watched me collapse into an armchair, make-up and tan smeared to hell, dress soaked in vomit - I can't imagine that was an easy thing to watch.

As my mam undressed me, (I kid you not), took off my make-up, and put me to bed, I remembered all these times when I was younger. Like how I couldn't go to sleep until her and dad came up and cuddled me and chatted for a bit. Or how my dad used to tie my shoes because I could never quite get the knack of it. Now here they were, their 16 year-old daughter almost passed out on the chair. Thinking of the position I put them in last night, I could not feel any more ashamed or remorseful. Having said that, it just goes to show how much my parents love me and how they really would do absolutely anything for me. Thankfully, they weren't too angry in the morning - just disappointed, which is probably worse.

There is no cross on my back. I am not writing this because I got caught. Realistically, I'd still hate myself either way. I can't imagine what I'd be like if someone did that at my party for one thing. I ruined my boyfriend's night, a night he'd been looking forward to, because I refused to listen to him and worried him half to death. I made an absolute twat of myself in front of a group of people who I've never met, not to mention the girl's parents. I hate myself. I never want to leave my house because I am too embarrassed of how much of a show I made of up myself.

I suffered this morning, deservedly. Considering I hadn't eaten anything at the party, I was surprised how ill I was. Swimming head and stomach. Rest assured karma, you did your job and you did it well! 

I don't plan on drinking for a very long time to come, if at all. As my dad said, it's really not worth. Practically lost my boyfriend, ruined my dress, disgraced my family - and myself.

It's funny how you never see this side of the party in music videos, huh?