When I booked the hotel online it was rated four star and had heaps of good reviews. I am gobsmacked at the tiny windowless room. There is a small cabinet and a broken chair in the corner of the room. I drop my bag on the bed and dust literally puffs off the sheets into the air. I am supposed to spend a couple of days here and consider that I will likely only use the room for sleeping so it will be suffice.
Its 8am in the morning, I head downstairs and take a seat at the hotel restaurant, position myself by the window and watch the mix of tourists and locals go about their day. I order eggs on toast (not very cultural I know but its my first meal). The gentleman walks towards me with my food and suddenly my stomach grumbles and I realize how hungry I am. I am not prepared for what happens next. As he lowers the plate a fricking cockroach runs from under my toast up his arm and around his neck, he brushes it off with his free hand, it falls to the floor and he stamps on it laughing. My eyes are bulging from my head and I am absolutely speechless when he places the meal before me, smiles and says enjoy. What the fuck? "Excuse me" I pipe up "a cockroach was just on my plate, can you please make me a fresh meal" he literally looks at me like I just vomited all over the table "no, only cockroach, no waste, that is what you order." Disgusted I leave the food untouched, walk to the nearest cornershop and buy a packet of crisps and a chocolate bar, I shove them down my throat to stop the grumbling in my stomach and wonder how am I going to survive the whole trip.
I have been in Thailand less than an hour and so far it couldn't be any further from what I had imagined.
Wednesday 28 August 2013
Tuesday 27 August 2013
Virgin Traveler
I may as well have the tatoo VIRGIN TRAVELER stamped on my head because I am standing out like a sore thumb. Its getting embarrassing now. I had a slight issue at security when I realized I had a few dangerous goods in my hand luggage, by dangerous goods I mean a bottle of water and some moisturizer I forgot to put in the bag I checked in. I know I should have known better but nerves got the best of me. So not only did the bleepers go off because of my belt, my bag was searched, I was told off about trying to smuggle water and moisturizer onto a plane and then they decided they were also gonna test my bag for explosives. Luckily I was clear. Then I go to the toilet about 15 times in a row because I am literally shared shitless and then I sit in front of my gate and start to sob, the sob turns into a full blown panic attack and then I am forced into a wheelchair by someone in an unidentified uniform and escorted to a nurses office. An hour later, after being prescribed a single Valium, I am calmer and ready to board the plane. I unpack everything I need for the journey and take my seat. I then watch the mass of different individuals clamber onto the plane and wait to find out which poor soul is stuck next to me for the next 12 hours.
The Valium has an amazing effect as I slept all through take off and wake up about and hour into the flight, leaning on the poor lady next to me, dribbling on her shoulder. I apologies but she seems nice and tells me its fine. She informs me that I have woken up just in time because the cabin crew are about to serve lunch. I have heard a lot about plane food and so I am not too upset when I am delivered some tough beef strips, salty mash, yellow broccoli, a stale bread bun and fruit salad. When I think I have finished it all I get super excited when I realize there is a slice of cheese and 2 crackers that I had missed when I first frisked the tray. I go to the toilet and laugh at how ridiculously loud the flush is and do a few in flight leg exercises. Head back to my seat, choose a movie and once again fall asleep. The valium was stronger than I knew because the next thing I know I hear the captain mention something about ready for our decent into Bangkok International Airport.
The landing is smooth and we make our way to the luggage carrousel quite quickly. Remembering the advice from Fred and Jayne I ignore all the offers for a taxi and head downstairs to the transport terminal, purchase a ticket for the bus and ask the bus driver to inform me when we reach Koh San Road, his English is good and tells me its the only stop. Easy! I am full of self confidence and excitement and cannot wait to reach my first destination.
The Valium has an amazing effect as I slept all through take off and wake up about and hour into the flight, leaning on the poor lady next to me, dribbling on her shoulder. I apologies but she seems nice and tells me its fine. She informs me that I have woken up just in time because the cabin crew are about to serve lunch. I have heard a lot about plane food and so I am not too upset when I am delivered some tough beef strips, salty mash, yellow broccoli, a stale bread bun and fruit salad. When I think I have finished it all I get super excited when I realize there is a slice of cheese and 2 crackers that I had missed when I first frisked the tray. I go to the toilet and laugh at how ridiculously loud the flush is and do a few in flight leg exercises. Head back to my seat, choose a movie and once again fall asleep. The valium was stronger than I knew because the next thing I know I hear the captain mention something about ready for our decent into Bangkok International Airport.
The landing is smooth and we make our way to the luggage carrousel quite quickly. Remembering the advice from Fred and Jayne I ignore all the offers for a taxi and head downstairs to the transport terminal, purchase a ticket for the bus and ask the bus driver to inform me when we reach Koh San Road, his English is good and tells me its the only stop. Easy! I am full of self confidence and excitement and cannot wait to reach my first destination.
Monday 22 July 2013
Last Minute Advice
Later that day...
Its 6pm and I head out to meet the generous strangers from the gym. So once again I was too optimistic the guy definitely did not wink at me, the girl he was with turns out to be his fiance and I am now sat here like a third wheel listening to their amazing trips to Asia. After about half an hour of constant blabber that I am struggling to keep up with I think they realize my boredom and turn their attention to me. "So have you booked your first nights accommodation" they ask, I inform them that I may be naive but I am not stupid I have indeed booked accommodation - the Mecure Hotel hotel for the first 3 nights, their facial expressions scare me and I am filled with the dread that I must have booked the skankiest place on the plane - I bet it has bed bugs and chalk body outlines on the floor, its probably in a deserted neighborhood with a creepy caretaker - I share these thoughts with my new 'pretend' friends and they both start laughing at me. They are shocked that I would spend so much money on a hotel in Thailand - apparently the $95 a night I have paid is extortionate and they have never paid more than $15 a night for a room. That's pretty cheap and I find that hard to believe but they promise me that after my first 3 nights I must barter with every single guest house or hotel I visit and refuse to pay more than $15 a night. I secretly make a mental note and increase my limit to $30 without telling the couple as I think I might actually offend them!
Despite the rocky start it turns out meeting with Fred and Jayne was a very sensible idea. They gave me loads of tips and have pretty much helped confirm my itinerary for the entire two weeks. They even help with my packing concerns and confirm exactly what I must have and what I really should leave behind. They give me their email addresses and I have permission to email them during my trip with any questions I may have. I like them and promise to let them know how my lone adventure goes.
I head home and sit in front of the TV with a large mug of hot chocolate and marshmallows. I flick through the movie channel with caution as I am still unable to bear nearly all chick flicks and anything with the slightest bit of romance. I settle on Paranormal Activity and think about how brave I am sat here watching a scary movie alone and then in 2 days heading overseas alone - I do not need a man in my life, I can do this all by myself.
Two hours later and I thoroughly regret my choice of horror movie. I am going to a strange country alone and I am watching horror films, what the hell is wrong with me. Until now I have never been too bothered by horror's, but then again I don't often watch them. I am under my duvet scared stiff and wondering if there are poltergeists in Thailand, then I wonder if they are in my house - SHIT I just heard a bang downstairs! Did I? Yes I'm sure I did... Oh God my heart is pounding and I cannot bring myself to peak from under my blanket. I literally feel sick and listen intently for any more abnormal noises, its quiet, I think I have overreacted once again...My cellphone beeps on the side of the bed and I jump a mile, my heart skips a beat and I scramble for the bedside lamp. When I finally manage to find the switch the room fills with light and I feel so much better. I decide to quickly look downstairs to put my mind at rest. I take my tallest stiletto's from the cupboard and walk downstairs with the 6 inch heel pointing outwards (I'm not sure what I am thinking right now, is it possible to stab a ghost with a shoe?) I'm safe, nothing downstairs, I hurry back to my bed and check my phone. Its Eva informing me that in 48 hours I will be en-route to tropical paradise. I am still shaking from my self-inflicted scare and decide to pop a sleeping pill. Twenty minutes later I am snoring and dreaming of sunshine and beaches.
Sunday 14 July 2013
Lack of experience
1st June
Holy Shit I cant believe I am going to Thailand this week! This is so out of character for me and although I am nervously shitting myself and on a rollercoaster of excitement and outright fear it really has given me something else to constantly worry about other than my heartless ex! So far I have had no more crying and only angry thoughts, my deal is treating me well.
I am such a virgin at this type of stuff and think I may have gone slightly overboard with my 'list of things to take' as it is now 3 pages long and I only have one 60 liter backpack. The essentials that I require for my safety have been slimmed down to just a pocket knife and rape alarm that I plan to carry with me every minute of the day. I know I have too many clothes and toiletries and I should really leave the electricals at home. Eva tells me not to take my GHD's. That it will be so hot and humid that my hair will never stay straight anyway but these are my lifeline. Its very rare I go anywhere without spending some much needed time with my straighteners.
The trouble with packing is I honestly love everything I own and see each item essential to my day to day life. How can you possible choose which tops, shoes, bikinis, jewellery, books, toiletries to leave behind.
I decide that I don't need to finish packing until tomorrow and head to the gym for another serious workout (by serious I mean half an hour at walking pace on the cross trainer, barely breaking into a sweat!) I also tell anyone who even looks in my direction that I am going traveling to Thailand this week, to my surprise a couple of strangers actually start up a conversation with me and tell me they have visited the apparently not so scary country many times. They give me their number and ever so kindly offer to go for a coffee or drink to give me all the tips I need - I think they are worried about my naivety and complete lack of knowledge. Nevertheless I decide I will meet them later and allow them to fill my brain with all the information I need to stay safe whilst seeing the best sights! As I leave the gym and thank them I swear the guy winked at me. In reality he probably had something in his eye, or more likely suffers with a twitch, but because I am feeling better than I have in ages I allow myself to believe he winked at me and walk home smiling to myself.
A step forward
29th May
The reply message never came - I felt so optimistic when I pressed send, then I feel stupid and worthless and now I am just angry. I at least deserve some acknowledgment the Ignorant Shit!
Yesterday whilst I was having a pitiful cry in the shower I realized that I'm going to become a completely different person in a completely different life to the one I had just a month ago and I miss him. The problem is I was very happy a month ago, very happy with him and our planned future. The new way of living without his security is going to be so different and change has always scared the shit out of me. I like my comfort zone and like knowing every detail around me is secure and safe and somehow I am now going to bloody Asia, how the hell has all this happened to me?!
Anyway after my little cry I decided I do not want to cry about him anymore and that I don't want to feel like this again. I can cry about uncertainty and I can cry if I'm scared. I can cry if I am happy and I can cry at a sad movie. I can cry if I hurt myself BUT I cannot cry about him! I made a deal with myself that these were the last tears I would shed about him and I plan to follow through with it!
I liked this new deal I had struck with myself so I decided to add one more. Not to try and contact him again. Instead I will focus on my anger and how he dare ignore me and treat me like I am a nobody. He doesn't deserve my time or my energy or even my thoughts for that matter.
I am feeling strong and plan to focus on my trip and the future and not on the past that I cannot change!
The reply message never came - I felt so optimistic when I pressed send, then I feel stupid and worthless and now I am just angry. I at least deserve some acknowledgment the Ignorant Shit!
Yesterday whilst I was having a pitiful cry in the shower I realized that I'm going to become a completely different person in a completely different life to the one I had just a month ago and I miss him. The problem is I was very happy a month ago, very happy with him and our planned future. The new way of living without his security is going to be so different and change has always scared the shit out of me. I like my comfort zone and like knowing every detail around me is secure and safe and somehow I am now going to bloody Asia, how the hell has all this happened to me?!
Anyway after my little cry I decided I do not want to cry about him anymore and that I don't want to feel like this again. I can cry about uncertainty and I can cry if I'm scared. I can cry if I am happy and I can cry at a sad movie. I can cry if I hurt myself BUT I cannot cry about him! I made a deal with myself that these were the last tears I would shed about him and I plan to follow through with it!
I liked this new deal I had struck with myself so I decided to add one more. Not to try and contact him again. Instead I will focus on my anger and how he dare ignore me and treat me like I am a nobody. He doesn't deserve my time or my energy or even my thoughts for that matter.
I am feeling strong and plan to focus on my trip and the future and not on the past that I cannot change!
Waiting on a memory
26th May
I know I shouldn't have but I couldn't help it. Today I text my ex and told him about my new planned adventure. I think its because I am so used to sharing everything with him, everything I did, everything I thought and now I have planned something crazy I want to share my excitement and fear with him. I think I also secretly want him to find my new confidence attractive and I want to talk to him and see how he is feeling.
I keep checking my phone every half hour - the entire day passes and so does the night, no reply
I know I shouldn't have but I couldn't help it. Today I text my ex and told him about my new planned adventure. I think its because I am so used to sharing everything with him, everything I did, everything I thought and now I have planned something crazy I want to share my excitement and fear with him. I think I also secretly want him to find my new confidence attractive and I want to talk to him and see how he is feeling.
I keep checking my phone every half hour - the entire day passes and so does the night, no reply
Thursday 4 July 2013
Time for new scenery
25th May
I wake up tired and confused. Luckily I do not seem to have a hangover despite the amount of alcohol consumption last night. My eyes are sore and swollen from the unnecessary crying and Eva is still flat out, snoring on her back. I also have a slight sense of dread - last night I promised myself I would book a holiday overseas to get away from all the bad memories that are living right on my doorstep, this scares me a lot.
I fix a strong cup of tea and throw some bacon in the frying pan. I fire up the internet and search "holidays to get over a break up". I somehow end up in a forum full of vulnerable, single females pouring their hearts out to complete strangers. I read many stories of how these poor women got their hearts broken and how they are all struggling to move on and see the good side of life. I instantly feel like I belong and get comfortable, 5 minutes later the smoke alarm is screeching loudly and I realize the kitchen is full of smoke, Eva wakes up coughing violently as I rush to the frying pan. Shit, talk about crispy bacon - our breakfast is cremated. Eva convinces me we should head out for breakfast, to which I agree but just want to spend another 5 minutes reading these familiar tales. I don't know what it is about reading about other peoples pain and heartache but it instantly made me feel a lot better. It made me realize I am not alone in feeling like a completely useless woman - all around the world people are being dumped, taking acting and getting over things. Hmmmm inspiring stuff.
After a full English breakfast and way too much coffee Eva ushers me into the local travel agent. I don't want to enter but know better than to argue with my best friend. She casual swans towards to brochures and continues to pick up one of every single destination - and there are shitloads. I watch in horror (as do all the travel consultants) as she cruises back to me carrying approximately 30 full colored holiday brochures. "Can I help", someone gulps from behind the counter, Eva sternly tells the nice lady that she's got it covered and I chase her down the street almost laughing at what an idiot she is.
A few hours later we have ripped out pages and circled numerous suitable destinations whilst internet searching flight prices to each. Despite my efforts explaining how I think I need beeches, snorkeling and sunshine to relax, Eva has kindly corrected my misgivings and circled only places that include trekking, discovery and adventure - apparently its better for me to keep busy than relax. She has a point though, and I know it, should I be lounging on a beach in some tropical paradise I will only be aware of all the happy couples that have chosen the same place to celebrate their wedding or honeymoon. We decide the most appropriate country that will have ample adventure but also beaches should I still want one is Thailand. Eva tells me loads of people travel there each year and most of them go by themselves. She brings up heaps of blogs, photos and articles to prove her point. "Fuck it" I tell her "book my flight". I can see she is skeptical and didn't expect me to go without a fight but she also doesn't second guess me, twenty minutes later I have a return ticket to Bangkok for 10 days time in my inbox. I am shitting myself but nevertheless slightly excited and now I have something meaningful to do each day until I go - research, get my stuff together, pack and prepare. We spent the rest of the night researching online until we realize its 11pm and we haven't even had dinner, Eva leaves, I head to bed but cant sleep. I lie there anxious and excited, nervous and roused, this is so out of character for me - when I eventually drifted off to sleep I dream of being chased by elephants and tigers through the jungle when I finally stumble upon a small, hidden village. The tribesmen wave me over and I feel like I have been saved. I run straight into their communal area when the Chief puts a reassuring hand on my should, I've been saved I think to myself, only to realize they are cannibals and there are skulls and bones everywhere. I wake up sweating and shaking - God I'm dramatic I think to myself, knowing the dream was ridiculous and very far fetched, still I struggle to go back to sleep nervous about what waits in Thailand.
I wake up tired and confused. Luckily I do not seem to have a hangover despite the amount of alcohol consumption last night. My eyes are sore and swollen from the unnecessary crying and Eva is still flat out, snoring on her back. I also have a slight sense of dread - last night I promised myself I would book a holiday overseas to get away from all the bad memories that are living right on my doorstep, this scares me a lot.
I fix a strong cup of tea and throw some bacon in the frying pan. I fire up the internet and search "holidays to get over a break up". I somehow end up in a forum full of vulnerable, single females pouring their hearts out to complete strangers. I read many stories of how these poor women got their hearts broken and how they are all struggling to move on and see the good side of life. I instantly feel like I belong and get comfortable, 5 minutes later the smoke alarm is screeching loudly and I realize the kitchen is full of smoke, Eva wakes up coughing violently as I rush to the frying pan. Shit, talk about crispy bacon - our breakfast is cremated. Eva convinces me we should head out for breakfast, to which I agree but just want to spend another 5 minutes reading these familiar tales. I don't know what it is about reading about other peoples pain and heartache but it instantly made me feel a lot better. It made me realize I am not alone in feeling like a completely useless woman - all around the world people are being dumped, taking acting and getting over things. Hmmmm inspiring stuff.
After a full English breakfast and way too much coffee Eva ushers me into the local travel agent. I don't want to enter but know better than to argue with my best friend. She casual swans towards to brochures and continues to pick up one of every single destination - and there are shitloads. I watch in horror (as do all the travel consultants) as she cruises back to me carrying approximately 30 full colored holiday brochures. "Can I help", someone gulps from behind the counter, Eva sternly tells the nice lady that she's got it covered and I chase her down the street almost laughing at what an idiot she is.
A few hours later we have ripped out pages and circled numerous suitable destinations whilst internet searching flight prices to each. Despite my efforts explaining how I think I need beeches, snorkeling and sunshine to relax, Eva has kindly corrected my misgivings and circled only places that include trekking, discovery and adventure - apparently its better for me to keep busy than relax. She has a point though, and I know it, should I be lounging on a beach in some tropical paradise I will only be aware of all the happy couples that have chosen the same place to celebrate their wedding or honeymoon. We decide the most appropriate country that will have ample adventure but also beaches should I still want one is Thailand. Eva tells me loads of people travel there each year and most of them go by themselves. She brings up heaps of blogs, photos and articles to prove her point. "Fuck it" I tell her "book my flight". I can see she is skeptical and didn't expect me to go without a fight but she also doesn't second guess me, twenty minutes later I have a return ticket to Bangkok for 10 days time in my inbox. I am shitting myself but nevertheless slightly excited and now I have something meaningful to do each day until I go - research, get my stuff together, pack and prepare. We spent the rest of the night researching online until we realize its 11pm and we haven't even had dinner, Eva leaves, I head to bed but cant sleep. I lie there anxious and excited, nervous and roused, this is so out of character for me - when I eventually drifted off to sleep I dream of being chased by elephants and tigers through the jungle when I finally stumble upon a small, hidden village. The tribesmen wave me over and I feel like I have been saved. I run straight into their communal area when the Chief puts a reassuring hand on my should, I've been saved I think to myself, only to realize they are cannibals and there are skulls and bones everywhere. I wake up sweating and shaking - God I'm dramatic I think to myself, knowing the dream was ridiculous and very far fetched, still I struggle to go back to sleep nervous about what waits in Thailand.
Sunday 30 June 2013
A Night Out
24th May
So despite my initial panic that my muscles would never loosen and I would be crippled with post-gym pain for the rest of my life, I recovered and have also returned. Not to the boxing class - I vow I will never inflict that much damage upon my body ever again, but I went to the gym and kept it nice and easy with a few hours on the exercise machines and my endorphins have risen so much that for at least half an hour a day I am actually forgetting that I have a broken heart.
I have failed to inform you why, during this time where I am nursing myself into a normal state, I am not working like every other sane adult on the planet. I am supposed to be on a 6 week holiday traveling the Caribbean with twatface, ironically we were meant to leave the day he shat on our relationship and walked out. I couldn't face going alone and so stupidly decided it would be better to lose all the money I had invested into the trip, avoid the hot weather, beautiful beaches, cocktails and sunsets and stay at home alone instead.
I am sitting in front of my full length mirror examining the wrinkles on my face. I swear there are at least 4 more lines on my face compared to a few weeks back. Sometimes when I look into the mirror I am never quite sure what I am expecting to see and get a slight shock by the person who is staring back at me. I mean not always, but sometimes I kind of expect a slightly younger, better looking, happier version of me, and I somewhat disappointing with reality. Today is one of those days, however I am heading out tonight so have a great excuse to fancy up my hair and face and pretend I am 10 years younger!
It is with such precision that I apply each of my 10 piece make up regime. I also wash, dry and tong my hair. Men get it so easy! All they need to do is shower and put on a new shirt, they don't seem to worry about their features, their eyelashes looking thin, eyebrows being messy or if there's enough bronzer on their cheeks. They also don't seem to have the same inability to choose an outfit from the wardrobe. I suffer from a disorder which does not allow me to leave the house after trying on the very first outfit. I have to create a selection and then with all my outfits spread on my bed narrow it down to between 3 - 5. I then have to try each one on, with various shoes and prance about in-front of my mirror. I check out how it looks if I am seated, standing and finally dancing with my arms in the air. It is so time consuming and half of the time I end up deciding on the first outfit 45 minutes after I initially picked it out of the closet. This of course is exactly what happens this evening. I settle on a pair of skinny black jeans, black stilettos and a gorgeous green low cut top. I am pretty happy with the end result and realize if I spent 2 hours each morning getting ready I would probably be a lot more satisfied with the lady in the mirror, I also realize that 2 hours each morning is extremely unrealistic and a slight waste of time.
The DubClub is busy we hover near the dance floor and watch in wonder at so many pissed youngsters so early in the evening. Its about 9.30pm and honestly, some of these people cant even hold themselves up. Eva is not quite herself I can tell she is very wary about me and eyeballing me a little too much. "Shots?" I ask hoping she will relax with a little more alcohol. A few rounds later and it works, we are propped at the bar chatting to a group of 19 year olds, asking them how they can possibly be old enough to be allowed in a club and do their parents know where they are? Its amusing and they think we are hilarious, which only encourages us further, we do another round of shots with them and decide to leave when the Justin Beiber lookalike puts his hand on Eva's arse.
Following the sound of 80's classics we trawl into The Bar to find it suits us much better. Not too many people, even less youngsters and plenty of places to sit (ouch we are getting old!). We are happily putting the world to right, bantering and slurring and generally having a great time when I feel the hot iron rod slice straight through my heart. The pain is unbearable, I feel like my organs are all exploding one at a time. I cant breathe and think I am going to throw up. He's here and has his hands all over some tall blonde. My eyes well up and I can see Eva's eyes dart around the room trying to find the source of my hysteria. It doesn't take her long, she spots the Devil and his Evil Witch and warns me to stay put. She marches straight over and I want to yell for her to stop but I am actually paralyzed. I watch her, in what seems like slow motion, pull them both apart and slap him full force across the face. As his face is smashed towards my direction I realize something doesn't look right. I spent years studying every single feature on his handsome face but at this moment in time I don't recognize any of them - can you really forget a face that quickly? I'm confused when it hits me like a punch in the stomach - FUCK it's not him! The blonde grabs Eva's hair and yanks her to the floor, I see her stumble onto her knees, grovelling and apologizing continually. I on the otherhand have sunk underneath the table. I am completely overwhelmed, flooded with relief but still feeling the real pain sobbing like a baby. Eva grabs me, pulls me from the table and with a look of shock and humor tells us we're leaving right now and literally pushes me out the door. We quickly dart into a nearby alleyway when she looks at me, I am blubbering and shaking, and just as she goes to say something, bursts into uncontrollable laughter. The next 5 minutes pass with me shifting from laughter to tears and back to laughter again, whilst Eva is still in absolute hysterics. Once she has calmed down, we buy a kebab and get a taxi back to my place.
As we sober up, huddled under a blanket on my couch, we are still trying to work out how Eva slapped an innocent man in the face. How could I mistake a complete stranger for the person I know inside out, we decide that in fact I did not know him well enough hence the sharp unexpected exit he took from my life. Even though it was a false alarm I realized tonight how people really can die from a broken heart. That minute of pain I felt in The Bar was so real, so fierce, so suffocating I knew I had to avoid any chance of feeling like that again. Eva suggests I book another holiday, a last minute trip to get away from this place I know so well, with so many memories and explore a little and relax overseas. I like the idea and promise myself that tomorrow I will look into options and try to escape if only for a little while.
So despite my initial panic that my muscles would never loosen and I would be crippled with post-gym pain for the rest of my life, I recovered and have also returned. Not to the boxing class - I vow I will never inflict that much damage upon my body ever again, but I went to the gym and kept it nice and easy with a few hours on the exercise machines and my endorphins have risen so much that for at least half an hour a day I am actually forgetting that I have a broken heart.
I have failed to inform you why, during this time where I am nursing myself into a normal state, I am not working like every other sane adult on the planet. I am supposed to be on a 6 week holiday traveling the Caribbean with twatface, ironically we were meant to leave the day he shat on our relationship and walked out. I couldn't face going alone and so stupidly decided it would be better to lose all the money I had invested into the trip, avoid the hot weather, beautiful beaches, cocktails and sunsets and stay at home alone instead.
I am sitting in front of my full length mirror examining the wrinkles on my face. I swear there are at least 4 more lines on my face compared to a few weeks back. Sometimes when I look into the mirror I am never quite sure what I am expecting to see and get a slight shock by the person who is staring back at me. I mean not always, but sometimes I kind of expect a slightly younger, better looking, happier version of me, and I somewhat disappointing with reality. Today is one of those days, however I am heading out tonight so have a great excuse to fancy up my hair and face and pretend I am 10 years younger!
It is with such precision that I apply each of my 10 piece make up regime. I also wash, dry and tong my hair. Men get it so easy! All they need to do is shower and put on a new shirt, they don't seem to worry about their features, their eyelashes looking thin, eyebrows being messy or if there's enough bronzer on their cheeks. They also don't seem to have the same inability to choose an outfit from the wardrobe. I suffer from a disorder which does not allow me to leave the house after trying on the very first outfit. I have to create a selection and then with all my outfits spread on my bed narrow it down to between 3 - 5. I then have to try each one on, with various shoes and prance about in-front of my mirror. I check out how it looks if I am seated, standing and finally dancing with my arms in the air. It is so time consuming and half of the time I end up deciding on the first outfit 45 minutes after I initially picked it out of the closet. This of course is exactly what happens this evening. I settle on a pair of skinny black jeans, black stilettos and a gorgeous green low cut top. I am pretty happy with the end result and realize if I spent 2 hours each morning getting ready I would probably be a lot more satisfied with the lady in the mirror, I also realize that 2 hours each morning is extremely unrealistic and a slight waste of time.
The DubClub is busy we hover near the dance floor and watch in wonder at so many pissed youngsters so early in the evening. Its about 9.30pm and honestly, some of these people cant even hold themselves up. Eva is not quite herself I can tell she is very wary about me and eyeballing me a little too much. "Shots?" I ask hoping she will relax with a little more alcohol. A few rounds later and it works, we are propped at the bar chatting to a group of 19 year olds, asking them how they can possibly be old enough to be allowed in a club and do their parents know where they are? Its amusing and they think we are hilarious, which only encourages us further, we do another round of shots with them and decide to leave when the Justin Beiber lookalike puts his hand on Eva's arse.
Following the sound of 80's classics we trawl into The Bar to find it suits us much better. Not too many people, even less youngsters and plenty of places to sit (ouch we are getting old!). We are happily putting the world to right, bantering and slurring and generally having a great time when I feel the hot iron rod slice straight through my heart. The pain is unbearable, I feel like my organs are all exploding one at a time. I cant breathe and think I am going to throw up. He's here and has his hands all over some tall blonde. My eyes well up and I can see Eva's eyes dart around the room trying to find the source of my hysteria. It doesn't take her long, she spots the Devil and his Evil Witch and warns me to stay put. She marches straight over and I want to yell for her to stop but I am actually paralyzed. I watch her, in what seems like slow motion, pull them both apart and slap him full force across the face. As his face is smashed towards my direction I realize something doesn't look right. I spent years studying every single feature on his handsome face but at this moment in time I don't recognize any of them - can you really forget a face that quickly? I'm confused when it hits me like a punch in the stomach - FUCK it's not him! The blonde grabs Eva's hair and yanks her to the floor, I see her stumble onto her knees, grovelling and apologizing continually. I on the otherhand have sunk underneath the table. I am completely overwhelmed, flooded with relief but still feeling the real pain sobbing like a baby. Eva grabs me, pulls me from the table and with a look of shock and humor tells us we're leaving right now and literally pushes me out the door. We quickly dart into a nearby alleyway when she looks at me, I am blubbering and shaking, and just as she goes to say something, bursts into uncontrollable laughter. The next 5 minutes pass with me shifting from laughter to tears and back to laughter again, whilst Eva is still in absolute hysterics. Once she has calmed down, we buy a kebab and get a taxi back to my place.
As we sober up, huddled under a blanket on my couch, we are still trying to work out how Eva slapped an innocent man in the face. How could I mistake a complete stranger for the person I know inside out, we decide that in fact I did not know him well enough hence the sharp unexpected exit he took from my life. Even though it was a false alarm I realized tonight how people really can die from a broken heart. That minute of pain I felt in The Bar was so real, so fierce, so suffocating I knew I had to avoid any chance of feeling like that again. Eva suggests I book another holiday, a last minute trip to get away from this place I know so well, with so many memories and explore a little and relax overseas. I like the idea and promise myself that tomorrow I will look into options and try to escape if only for a little while.
Friday 28 June 2013
No Pain No Gain
19th May
Like a new woman I jumped out of bed as soon as my alarm went off this morning.
I dusted off my workout clothes, which have somehow shrunk slightly whilst hibernating in the closet, and headed for the gym.
The gym is busy, a little too busy and I am feeling extremely self conscious. I am bursting out of my fluorescent outfit and second guessing my decision to wear a headband. Everyone looks so fit and strong and so sure on the exact sequence of their work out. I take to the cross trainer, nice and slowly to begin with and start to feel real good about myself. There's a tap on my shoulder and WHHHOOAAAA a Brad Pit look alike is smiling at me, "I take a boxersize class here and need another person to make up numbers, you keen?" I start shaking my head knowing that it is not a good idea, "yes ok" damn it!!
Holy Crap, intense is an understatement. I felt like my arms were being ripped from their sockets. "Just hold the pads and resist" he yelled. Resist? I am doing everything I possibly can to prevent my opponent smashing my arms to pieces. How to people manage this. After an intense 45 minute workout we get to recover with two minutes straight punching on the bags - recover?! This guy is insane. It is pure torture. It is not fun and it can not possibly be good for you. I check myself in the mirror, bad move, I am the colour of beetroot and soaking in sweat, my eyes are blood shot and I am shaking like a leaf. I thank the instructor and promise to come back to another of his classes although we both know this is highly unlikely.
After a shower and some scrambled eggs I feel great! I return a few phone calls (much to the joy of friends who thought I had fallen off the planet) and decide to curl up and read my new book for a few hours. Naturally, me being me, I fall asleep.
I wake up some hours later, it's early evening and smile to myself. I feel good. I am taking control and its filling me with positivity. The phone rings, I attempt to get up and everything changes. I no longer feel good. I am in agony. I cannot move. I am paralyzed and in excruciating pain. Oh my god what on earth has happened to me?!! My neck, my back, my stomach, my arms, my legs, everything hurts! Shit, what was the last thing hot instructor said as I left the gym, oh that's right, "don't forget to stretch it all out when you get home". I forgot!
I'm in pain but at least it is physical pain, I know this will pass and I will be ok. Strangely the physical torture is ever so slightly distracting me from the emotional torture and I like the feeling that that something else other than my heart is hurting, and this pain will benefit me in the end. I finally manage to crawl to the phone, its Eva she's very excited, in an attempt to lift my spirits she has organized cocktails on Friday night, "Find your little black dress" she shrieks down the phone "we are hitting the town, and I don't care if you don't want to come, for my sake pretend you do and fake a smile all night if you have to". Easy! I can do that and it's probably a good idea I start drinking socially again, I can't keep relying on the antidote alone. I'm excited, providing the pain eases and I can actually walk by Friday, I think this could be exactly what I need.
Like a new woman I jumped out of bed as soon as my alarm went off this morning.
I dusted off my workout clothes, which have somehow shrunk slightly whilst hibernating in the closet, and headed for the gym.
The gym is busy, a little too busy and I am feeling extremely self conscious. I am bursting out of my fluorescent outfit and second guessing my decision to wear a headband. Everyone looks so fit and strong and so sure on the exact sequence of their work out. I take to the cross trainer, nice and slowly to begin with and start to feel real good about myself. There's a tap on my shoulder and WHHHOOAAAA a Brad Pit look alike is smiling at me, "I take a boxersize class here and need another person to make up numbers, you keen?" I start shaking my head knowing that it is not a good idea, "yes ok" damn it!!
Holy Crap, intense is an understatement. I felt like my arms were being ripped from their sockets. "Just hold the pads and resist" he yelled. Resist? I am doing everything I possibly can to prevent my opponent smashing my arms to pieces. How to people manage this. After an intense 45 minute workout we get to recover with two minutes straight punching on the bags - recover?! This guy is insane. It is pure torture. It is not fun and it can not possibly be good for you. I check myself in the mirror, bad move, I am the colour of beetroot and soaking in sweat, my eyes are blood shot and I am shaking like a leaf. I thank the instructor and promise to come back to another of his classes although we both know this is highly unlikely.
After a shower and some scrambled eggs I feel great! I return a few phone calls (much to the joy of friends who thought I had fallen off the planet) and decide to curl up and read my new book for a few hours. Naturally, me being me, I fall asleep.
I wake up some hours later, it's early evening and smile to myself. I feel good. I am taking control and its filling me with positivity. The phone rings, I attempt to get up and everything changes. I no longer feel good. I am in agony. I cannot move. I am paralyzed and in excruciating pain. Oh my god what on earth has happened to me?!! My neck, my back, my stomach, my arms, my legs, everything hurts! Shit, what was the last thing hot instructor said as I left the gym, oh that's right, "don't forget to stretch it all out when you get home". I forgot!
I'm in pain but at least it is physical pain, I know this will pass and I will be ok. Strangely the physical torture is ever so slightly distracting me from the emotional torture and I like the feeling that that something else other than my heart is hurting, and this pain will benefit me in the end. I finally manage to crawl to the phone, its Eva she's very excited, in an attempt to lift my spirits she has organized cocktails on Friday night, "Find your little black dress" she shrieks down the phone "we are hitting the town, and I don't care if you don't want to come, for my sake pretend you do and fake a smile all night if you have to". Easy! I can do that and it's probably a good idea I start drinking socially again, I can't keep relying on the antidote alone. I'm excited, providing the pain eases and I can actually walk by Friday, I think this could be exactly what I need.
Wednesday 26 June 2013
Under the Duvet
18th May
So today was the day I planned to get my life in order. Last nights alcohol consumption made me optimistic that getting ones life in order can be done by simply writing a list. In my case this is either not true, or I am not ready to face the future.
First of all I have a confession - last nights two large glasses turned into two bottles. Ummm yep I drank two bottles of wine, by myself, alone in my apartment, whilst perving on hot famous men on the Web. Pretty sad really. It was going great until the last glass - that one kind of tipped me over the edge. So at 3am, in a blubbering mess, I crawled sideways into bed and passed out.
Then my plan to wake up, face the world head on and start sorting myself out didn't quite go as expected. It could be the hangover, or my broken soul, or the fact that my bed is super comfy but today I haven't managed to make it out from under my duvet. Other than a super quick toilet dash (which for a split second I considered weeing just exactly where I was) I have been officially been hiding under the duvet for a grand total of 20 hours.
I feel gross, sweaty, tired (how can I still be tired???), sad, lonely and a tiny bit pathetic. I have an uncontrollable urge to call my mother, I know it will not help, in fact it will probably make things worse. She has every good intention in the world, but when she opens her mouth she has a knack for saying the exact things you do not want to hear. Example.... Last year I spent months training for a triathlon. I'd never competed in a race before and I had only recently learned to swim. I was excited and saw this as the opportunity to feel like I had really achieved something. It didn't quite go to plan. I had been practicing my swimming in a local pool. It's actually quite different when your swimming in the ocean, with waves, fully clad in a thick wetsuit. I was already huffing and puffing, sweating uncontrollably and quite shaky from the run when I made it to the swim section. I geared up and jumped in like an demented walrus, unfortunately just 100 meters in to the 500 meter swim I had to be rescued, apparently the commentator had declared there was a person imitating a drowning seagull and could someone please get her out of the water as it was distracting the other competitors. I hadn't even made it half way! I was so disappointed and low I called Mum for some much needed sympathy. "Oh darling, I do hope you're ok. To be honest I did wonder what you were playing at entering such an athletic competition, you know athletics really isn't your thing, plus you probably should have trained a bit more, and tried some swimming in the sea first". Brilliant. Thanks Mum! Everything I already know but didn't want to hear!
So on this occasion I think I will leave the phone where it is.
I can't spend the rest of my life hiding in bed so I make a vow to myself. Tomorrow I will go to the gym, burn off some anger and maybe lose a bit of weight in doing so. I haven't done any exercise since last years triathlon disaster so this can only be a step in the right direction.... I will get fit, beautiful and be all sporty like those hot young yoga instrcutors that walk around clutching their mats and water bottles. Slightly hungry I look around my room, there is a rice cracker on the floor under my desk. I don't know how long it has been there but it will do. I sprint to the other side of the room, as if the floor is about to fall from beneath me and then dive safely back into bed. The rice cracker is old, no crunch left, so I kind of nibble and suck on it until I fall back into a deep sleep.
So today was the day I planned to get my life in order. Last nights alcohol consumption made me optimistic that getting ones life in order can be done by simply writing a list. In my case this is either not true, or I am not ready to face the future.
First of all I have a confession - last nights two large glasses turned into two bottles. Ummm yep I drank two bottles of wine, by myself, alone in my apartment, whilst perving on hot famous men on the Web. Pretty sad really. It was going great until the last glass - that one kind of tipped me over the edge. So at 3am, in a blubbering mess, I crawled sideways into bed and passed out.
Then my plan to wake up, face the world head on and start sorting myself out didn't quite go as expected. It could be the hangover, or my broken soul, or the fact that my bed is super comfy but today I haven't managed to make it out from under my duvet. Other than a super quick toilet dash (which for a split second I considered weeing just exactly where I was) I have been officially been hiding under the duvet for a grand total of 20 hours.
I feel gross, sweaty, tired (how can I still be tired???), sad, lonely and a tiny bit pathetic. I have an uncontrollable urge to call my mother, I know it will not help, in fact it will probably make things worse. She has every good intention in the world, but when she opens her mouth she has a knack for saying the exact things you do not want to hear. Example.... Last year I spent months training for a triathlon. I'd never competed in a race before and I had only recently learned to swim. I was excited and saw this as the opportunity to feel like I had really achieved something. It didn't quite go to plan. I had been practicing my swimming in a local pool. It's actually quite different when your swimming in the ocean, with waves, fully clad in a thick wetsuit. I was already huffing and puffing, sweating uncontrollably and quite shaky from the run when I made it to the swim section. I geared up and jumped in like an demented walrus, unfortunately just 100 meters in to the 500 meter swim I had to be rescued, apparently the commentator had declared there was a person imitating a drowning seagull and could someone please get her out of the water as it was distracting the other competitors. I hadn't even made it half way! I was so disappointed and low I called Mum for some much needed sympathy. "Oh darling, I do hope you're ok. To be honest I did wonder what you were playing at entering such an athletic competition, you know athletics really isn't your thing, plus you probably should have trained a bit more, and tried some swimming in the sea first". Brilliant. Thanks Mum! Everything I already know but didn't want to hear!
So on this occasion I think I will leave the phone where it is.
I can't spend the rest of my life hiding in bed so I make a vow to myself. Tomorrow I will go to the gym, burn off some anger and maybe lose a bit of weight in doing so. I haven't done any exercise since last years triathlon disaster so this can only be a step in the right direction.... I will get fit, beautiful and be all sporty like those hot young yoga instrcutors that walk around clutching their mats and water bottles. Slightly hungry I look around my room, there is a rice cracker on the floor under my desk. I don't know how long it has been there but it will do. I sprint to the other side of the room, as if the floor is about to fall from beneath me and then dive safely back into bed. The rice cracker is old, no crunch left, so I kind of nibble and suck on it until I fall back into a deep sleep.
Sunday 23 June 2013
Avoid All Fuckwits
16th May
I am not a raging feminist. I am however still very bitter about a certain shitcock's exit out of my life.
Why is it that the one who promises they would take a bullet for you, ends up being the one pulling the trigger?
Last week we passed in the street. He stopped and said "heeeey you", in a super-gay-over-the-top-cheery-look-I'm-not-really-a-twat kind of voice.... I stop... hold my head high "hey hows thing (don't wait for response) I can't stop, super busy at the moment, really busy, lots of things to do, lots people to see", big smiley face "catch you another time" and walk off. I smile to myself and think wow - I am an independent strong woman who really doesn't give a shit anymore. Oh yeah!!! I can take anything.... ANYTHING!!! Then I am a little bit more honest with myself - oh my fricking hell that was hard, ouch stomach hurts, feels like I have been slapped in the face.... dont cry, dont cry, dont cry.... remember independent strong woman who can do anything, anything, ... anything but snuggle up with him, hold him, talk nonsense to him, anything except everything I want to do with him.
Lonely and sad, holding back the tears I drag myself home. Ok woman, get a hold of yourself. You have a choice here - do you want to be Bridget Jones or Jennifer Aniston (obviously I want to be Jennifer Aniston she is gorgeous, but also bounces back hotter and stronger than ever from her many breakups)? Ok I don't want anymore break ups, I'm not handling this very well, so really I don't want to be Jennifer but you get the gist of it. Remember he is a true arsewipe, a jerk, a wankbollock, he cheated numerous times and failed miserably to make you feel good. YOU DESERVE MORE!
Back to the Pinot Noir - I can always count on wine to make me feel better (if even only for a little while) tonight I have limited myself to just 2 glasses (large of course) and spent the evening drooling at hot bods on pinterest. Tomorrow I will make a plan to get my life back in order.......
I am not a raging feminist. I am however still very bitter about a certain shitcock's exit out of my life.
Why is it that the one who promises they would take a bullet for you, ends up being the one pulling the trigger?
Last week we passed in the street. He stopped and said "heeeey you", in a super-gay-over-the-top-cheery-look-I'm-not-really-a-twat kind of voice.... I stop... hold my head high "hey hows thing (don't wait for response) I can't stop, super busy at the moment, really busy, lots of things to do, lots people to see", big smiley face "catch you another time" and walk off. I smile to myself and think wow - I am an independent strong woman who really doesn't give a shit anymore. Oh yeah!!! I can take anything.... ANYTHING!!! Then I am a little bit more honest with myself - oh my fricking hell that was hard, ouch stomach hurts, feels like I have been slapped in the face.... dont cry, dont cry, dont cry.... remember independent strong woman who can do anything, anything, ... anything but snuggle up with him, hold him, talk nonsense to him, anything except everything I want to do with him.
Lonely and sad, holding back the tears I drag myself home. Ok woman, get a hold of yourself. You have a choice here - do you want to be Bridget Jones or Jennifer Aniston (obviously I want to be Jennifer Aniston she is gorgeous, but also bounces back hotter and stronger than ever from her many breakups)? Ok I don't want anymore break ups, I'm not handling this very well, so really I don't want to be Jennifer but you get the gist of it. Remember he is a true arsewipe, a jerk, a wankbollock, he cheated numerous times and failed miserably to make you feel good. YOU DESERVE MORE!
Back to the Pinot Noir - I can always count on wine to make me feel better (if even only for a little while) tonight I have limited myself to just 2 glasses (large of course) and spent the evening drooling at hot bods on pinterest. Tomorrow I will make a plan to get my life back in order.......
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