Yes, it's happened. The thing that I have been looking forward to for about two months... My 22nd Birthday has been and gone in the blink of an eye. And I was left disappointed.
WARNING - This post is whiney and depressing. You may want to opt out of it now to save yourself from my teenage-like angsts.
I'm going to stop planning things for my birthday because for, perhaps, the third year running now, I have been left sorely disappointed.
It was pretty doomed from the start. The whole dress fiasco was stressing me out. I'm never really selfish but wanted to stand out on my birthday in the best possible dress I could have ever wanted. But it didn't happen. I was left with a dress that did not hide my huge belly. It was nice, but not the one I wanted.
I was ridiculously unorganised and didn't really let people know what was going on etc. etc. Entirely out of character and suffered from it in the long-run.
Normally, I always prat around in a pair of PJs until just before we're leaving so I don't ruin my dress, but carried on getting pestered by everyone to get changed into the dress that was too lowcut for my HUUUUUGE boobs. I looked like a bloody hooker.
I suppose it came together in the end. The very end.
But what has been the story of my life is that I am a heavyweight drinker. It takes me a SHIT LOAD to get drunk. Normally I can improvise and get around this by drinking wine or vodka or cider. But wine is not a 'going out' drink, vodka makes me ill the day after I've been drinking it and cider makes me bloated, which, let's face it, I already had my tits and arse on show - I didn't want my belly any bigger than what it normally is.
And what's really fucked me off is that I had absolutely NO MONEY to buy drinks once we were out. I took a lot of money out but it was my birthday money. I didn't want to piss it up the wall on drinks.
For once in my life, I've found myself sorely disappointed that my birthday is in November, where, at the moment, is the WORST TIME OF THE YEAR to have a birthday because everyone's so fuckin' skint.
Not to mention that fact that people pulled out of coming last week... a week where I was not looking forward to my birthday soooooo badly that I was close to cancelling on everyone and boxing myself up in my room and refusing to leave it on Saturday.
This will shock people who actually came out for my birthday (though I doubt any of them read my blog) because I did, kinda, have a good time. But I don't go out on nights out anymore which kills me because I love to dance and drink and see my friends.
I miss them. And the weekend was just not fun enough for me.
I couldn't even go and see Harry Potter on Sunday because I had to get back to Huddersfield for a JobSeekers consultation on Monday.
:'(
I genuinely think I may have a very very mild case of depression. It doesn't help that I'm unemployed, fat, single and don't have a social life at the moment.
The best thing of the night is this photo I suppose. I guess from the smile on my face it shows that I was having the time of my life. But in hindsight, I wish I'd have been more drunk and a little happier with myself. This will bring a lot of people down; I've even got a bit upset writing it.
I need to sort myself out.
No, wait. I need to get a job.
I didn't realise it would affect me this much. It's been five months.
None of my friends will say it, but it's common knowledge that I've put on QUITE A FEW pounds since moving home from uni seeing as my dad's got the biggest sweet tooth imaginable and regularly stocks the cupboards with biscuits and the like.
So after the dreaded coffee incident this morning in that store in Manchester, I wandered around for a while and had a miraculous idea of popping into a couple of stores, well, who I am kidding myself,
THE MIGHT THAT IS RIVER ISLAND...
;)
... and having a nosey to see what dresses they have for my biiiiirthday.
Now, I've been eying up this beauty ever since I discovered it...
And the more I look at it the more I want a red dress for the big 22.
However, on trying this on, it was a little tight...
I knew I shouldn't have started trying dresses on (only to get disheartened when all my lumps and bumps were on show) without wearing a pair of those Magic Knickers that you always see on 'How To Look Good Naked'...
Furthermore, this length of dress does not suit me at all. 'Cos I'm a short arse, I need to have as much leg out as possible otherwise I end up looking shorter than what I actually am...
Either that or some of my repressed slutty tendencies may very well be coming through...
I do want a red dress after all.
Mmmmm...
I never knew I was this suggestive.
;)
YES, I FINALLY HAVE IT!
:)
I'm gonna drop 4 dress sizes by Christmas.
It's all in the Weston genes.
My grandma was beautiful and has handed down the best part of a long series of genetic formations to her daughters and subsequent female grand-daughters... Except that I'm the only grand-daughter following suit.
My daddy was her son and is a bit of a porker himself, bless his sweet tooth. I love him to pieces.
:)
And I am, most probably the youngest family member now to carry on the Weston Woman's Body.
BIG BUM, BIG THIGHS, BIG BOOBS... and a rather noticably BIGGER HEAD than average...
... Of which has caused numerous problems in the past.
1) MY HEAD // I was stood for a total 20 minutes behind-the-scenes at Graduation trying to find the right sized hat for my head. I think I tried on at least 20 different ones.
2) MY BUM // Despite getting squeezed an awful lot and being a perfect cushion for most things considered, there have been noticable (I'm not going to describe them, it's too painful) incidents regarding the said derriere that should not be uttered ever again in the future!
3) MY BOOBS // Do I need to stress the back pain I get on a regular basis, the sheer inappropriate 'getting-in-the-way'ness of these hooters and my morbid fear of running around in public in case I flash innocent bystanders or knock myself out with these puppies...
I'm sure you see my point.
If you're a dude, I'm sure you LOVE them. If you're a girl for that matter, I'm sure you love them too...
But now they're just getting in the way.
The other day I dragged two of my very unlucky friends around Manchester trying to find a green military coat for the winter but ended up having a very infantile spazz because none of them fitted me ON ACCOUNT OF MY HUMONGOUS TITS.
I always used to think that I needed them because they balanced out my also HUMONGOUS ARSE, but I really don't want them anymore. As soon as I get enough money and lose a little weight (I don't want to get rid of these nuisances only to make my arse look ridiculously out of proportion), I'm getting myself one of those bad boys.
Or more cringingly to the point, getting rid of those bad boys.
Mmm, it'll be emotional.
Two months I 'got on' that good ol' diet that is SlimFast and since a wonderful friend of mine pushed me off the wagon a month ago by taking me to Mac-FUCKIN'-Donald's, I haven't been able to get the fuck back on.
Now, my parents have just done a huge food shop, gone out to the pub and left me to resist stuffing my face till they get back where they'd find me in a food coma on the dining room floor.
Hmmph!
I need to get busy again and get a bloody job, before I become morbidly obese!
:(
