Tunnelgirl47

My back is that bad. And so are my feet. It’s October the 2nd and the UK is coming out of our traditional week of “Indian Summer” - temperatures have been in the late 20’s and the evenings have had that lovely balmy feel that you get on holiday. I should be happy about this and I’m not. I’d had a good summer. The weather in Wales was similar to most of the UK - mild, damp, sunny intervals but mainly cool. I’d stuck rigidly to my mumjeans (more on those later) long sleeve black t-shirt and cardi combo for work and home. With regular washes I could convince myself that I was stylish. I looked ok. We had been on holiday to the Canaries and I’d struggled, of course. Packed into my few summery outfits I’d sweated and resented the lithe teens in their little dresses and bikinis. But it was only for a fortnight, and not really “real”. So cut to the end of September and I’m still in the mumjeans. And then the hot weather hit. I’d gone through all of my wardrobe - really all of it - looking for clothes that I could get on, and would keep me cool. I ended up wearing the same vest top three times because it was all that would fit. I know its vain, and I know I’ve got myself in this position purely by my own inability to deal with uncomfortable situations. But my back is paralysed by cramps every morning and I want to go into Zara and just pick something up and know it will fit. I want that Ralph Lauren Polo Shirt I bought for £90 to fit. I want to get out of my wretched Boden mumjeans.

With apologies to Jerry Maguire. It’s my birthday in a fortnight. I’ll be 37. I want to establish a mission statement for myself, for the coming year. I may expand on it, revisit it but I doubt it. In a years time I want to be: Size 10, flexible enough to touch my toes and for my Ralph Lauren polo shirt to be baggy. Married. It’s a leap year next year and he knows what I am going to ask. A published writer. In whatever format. But a paid, published writer. Working part time.  Living in a house that I am proud of. Whether that means moving, or improving, I’ll see.

Argh. Signed up to tumblr at the behest of the super secret TMBG IFC (hi guys! /waves) and now I can’t get “Why does the sun shine?” out of my head.  Double argh. Boyfriend has compared lyrics of said song to that of “Galaxy Song” by Monty Python. My one defence is that I reckoned TMBG would probably have more accurate science.