there's just something about awkward times that always appeals to me. 8:17, 9:13...or i just like weird numbers. all are appropriate and true.
i am grateful to my job. i have been so incredibly ill the last three weeks (which are of course the first 3 weeks of this job) and i have not gotten in trouble, no one has yelled at me for slacking or faking sick, everyone has just been super supportive and asked me to please get better and if there is anything THEY can do to improve my wellbeing and how they can work around my sickness. seriously? it makes me cry they're so nice and supportive. it's unexpected and wonderful. i am learning to get my confidence and my identity back after a year of such abuse.
so to recap: 2 ankle sprains (severe ones..my toes are bruised! i still can't fully straighten my foot); chest infection (not just a bad cough...antibiotics and everything)...the list just goes on and on.
i am okay blogging atm...i'm waiting for my archiving login to process so i can begin retrieving boxes and files for people. this is...justified! maybe. probably not. but who cares.
let's have a segment (like anyone really cares but i'm in a game show presenter kinda mood) of...what sara was evil and spent her severance check on instead of spending it on paying down her astronomical student loans or paying off her electricity bill (although i doubled my monthly repayment, that's gotta count for something!) [also i realise this is a blog viewed by people but no comments from the peanut gallery about how i choose to spend my money. i have enough set aside still for my visa, rent and to pay all my bills. so shove off with any other comments!]:
red eelskin decolletes
ring lizard very prives
black jazz no barres
tortoise very prives
so i'm sitting here resting my ankle on an upturned rubbish bin and not enjoying my 'aircast' ankle brace. firstly my trousers get caught on the velcro, my super-support trainers keep cutting at my ankles and i feel quite shlumpy.
which brings me to my current thought of the moment, luxury clothing. luxury shoes i am all over (provided they are purchased for below retail and avoiding the ridiculous 70% markup that is used by department stores worldwide) because you do get what you pay for. and i agree. my £6 primark sweaters aren't witholding the test of time but they are comfy and do the job. i used to dream about not being in university and going to some 9-5 job in perfect pencil skirts, oxford shirts and demure heels with every hair tucked in place. yet as i live the 9-5 (correction...9:30 - 5:30) lifestyle i do not feel polished and feel quite like a newboarn foal unable to open its eyes and just running into walls and still learning how to walk). do i ever think i'll feel like a gorgeous show horse? probably not. and that's what society is isn't it? all of us women [and men!] prancing around in £400 suits with crisp lines and flattering seams. seeing as how i'm a plus sized lady (in UK standards at least!) i'm not feeling too flattered by anything. the body size i lust for is ever out of my reach since i'm uncomfortable vomting up every meal i eat and unfortunately starving myself just isn't ideal and so i continually struggle to become un-ugly and stop judging but that's another topic for another day. so i can't fit into the fancy clothes, i can't fit into the cheap clothes and being between sizes makes my life miserable. i feel like crap. the house bubble is godly. see because at home i feel fine...sometimes even attractive and confident until i'm waiting at the station and i see someone prettier and more put together, someone who has actually managed to not wear their breakfast in their hair and has perfected the french twist coiffe and NOT look like someone playing dress up in their mother's closed and i'm shattered. i'm a failure. i'm an ugly duckling and there's no beautiful swan ending here. i go about being sara. i spill my coffee on my shirt and my lunch on my trousers and walk home in shame for being such a bad female. although i do love sunglasses. big giant sunglasses that hide 90% of my face. i feel like attractive sara in sunglasses since when i can hide my face i can hide my identity and be whoever i want!
i'm currently hungry so i'm going to eat some porridge. more to come as i use this as a brain sieve. everything that would ordinarily fall out due to its overwhelming unimportance now gets filed away neatly on the miraculous interwebs.
i am grateful to my job. i have been so incredibly ill the last three weeks (which are of course the first 3 weeks of this job) and i have not gotten in trouble, no one has yelled at me for slacking or faking sick, everyone has just been super supportive and asked me to please get better and if there is anything THEY can do to improve my wellbeing and how they can work around my sickness. seriously? it makes me cry they're so nice and supportive. it's unexpected and wonderful. i am learning to get my confidence and my identity back after a year of such abuse.
so to recap: 2 ankle sprains (severe ones..my toes are bruised! i still can't fully straighten my foot); chest infection (not just a bad cough...antibiotics and everything)...the list just goes on and on.
i am okay blogging atm...i'm waiting for my archiving login to process so i can begin retrieving boxes and files for people. this is...justified! maybe. probably not. but who cares.
let's have a segment (like anyone really cares but i'm in a game show presenter kinda mood) of...what sara was evil and spent her severance check on instead of spending it on paying down her astronomical student loans or paying off her electricity bill (although i doubled my monthly repayment, that's gotta count for something!) [also i realise this is a blog viewed by people but no comments from the peanut gallery about how i choose to spend my money. i have enough set aside still for my visa, rent and to pay all my bills. so shove off with any other comments!]:
red eelskin decolletes
ring lizard very prives
black jazz no barres
tortoise very prives
so i'm sitting here resting my ankle on an upturned rubbish bin and not enjoying my 'aircast' ankle brace. firstly my trousers get caught on the velcro, my super-support trainers keep cutting at my ankles and i feel quite shlumpy.
which brings me to my current thought of the moment, luxury clothing. luxury shoes i am all over (provided they are purchased for below retail and avoiding the ridiculous 70% markup that is used by department stores worldwide) because you do get what you pay for. and i agree. my £6 primark sweaters aren't witholding the test of time but they are comfy and do the job. i used to dream about not being in university and going to some 9-5 job in perfect pencil skirts, oxford shirts and demure heels with every hair tucked in place. yet as i live the 9-5 (correction...9:30 - 5:30) lifestyle i do not feel polished and feel quite like a newboarn foal unable to open its eyes and just running into walls and still learning how to walk). do i ever think i'll feel like a gorgeous show horse? probably not. and that's what society is isn't it? all of us women [and men!] prancing around in £400 suits with crisp lines and flattering seams. seeing as how i'm a plus sized lady (in UK standards at least!) i'm not feeling too flattered by anything. the body size i lust for is ever out of my reach since i'm uncomfortable vomting up every meal i eat and unfortunately starving myself just isn't ideal and so i continually struggle to become un-ugly and stop judging but that's another topic for another day. so i can't fit into the fancy clothes, i can't fit into the cheap clothes and being between sizes makes my life miserable. i feel like crap. the house bubble is godly. see because at home i feel fine...sometimes even attractive and confident until i'm waiting at the station and i see someone prettier and more put together, someone who has actually managed to not wear their breakfast in their hair and has perfected the french twist coiffe and NOT look like someone playing dress up in their mother's closed and i'm shattered. i'm a failure. i'm an ugly duckling and there's no beautiful swan ending here. i go about being sara. i spill my coffee on my shirt and my lunch on my trousers and walk home in shame for being such a bad female. although i do love sunglasses. big giant sunglasses that hide 90% of my face. i feel like attractive sara in sunglasses since when i can hide my face i can hide my identity and be whoever i want!
i'm currently hungry so i'm going to eat some porridge. more to come as i use this as a brain sieve. everything that would ordinarily fall out due to its overwhelming unimportance now gets filed away neatly on the miraculous interwebs.
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