People change, because that’s what people do. By God if I was the same bratty little bitch I was when I was 13 I’d have little to no friends (I am still a ~bit~ bratty). I’m back at my parents of the weekend and being in my old bedroom made me realise that me, my life and everything else in between have changed so much over the past 3 or so years and although thank Mary, Jesus and Joseph it’s changed for the better, I can’t help but mourn the old me.
Lol, who? What? Last week my friend went on a shopping spree and when I saw all the lovely things she bought I nearly wept. Pre-mortgage me was a shopaholic and the thrill of spending all my wages on sparkle, gold and leopard print filled my heart up to the brim. I’m proud I am a real life adult now, but part of me wants to just sack off the responsibilities for a few months and just live my best care-free life. It also doesn’t help I feel so bleughh at the moment too, which makes shopping the most unenjoyable experience. So bye disposable income, maybe we’ll reunite again one day…. once I’ve paid off all my credit cards **eye roll**
Oh my, I wish so badly that I appreciated my body in 2012, wait and from 1990 right through to now. You will never believe someone when they tell you how wonderful you look, but then you will no doubt look back and cry that you thought you were fat, when you were nothing but it. I’ve always been curvy, but the older I get the harder it becomes. I feel like I eat the same as I did 5 years ago but just seem to get bigger and bigger and although I’m trying to embrace it, it’s hard. It’s also hard when you imagine what other people are thinking, or other people actually say to you, because it’s almost as if your body defines you and because you’ve put on weight you’ve turned into a horrible person.
Being a Carefree Claudia
Along with disposable income goes hand in hand with being carefree. If I wanted to go out and drink wine all day and all night I bloody hell would, nowadays if I want to go out and drink wine all day and all night, I have to have a pre-arranged gal date which has been organised 6 months prior, saved enough to be able to afford said wine (and inevitable shots) and have nothing planned the next day so I can die in my bed in peace.
I’ve always been a worrier, because imagine how boring life would be if you didn’t break down EVERY SINGLE SITUATION and analyse over and over agin in your head, but over the last few years it’s gotten worse. Not only has care-free Claudia fucked off she’s left behind paranoid Patricia and anxious Annette. My mind won’t let me forget things and makes me forget things I don’t want to (like important legislation I need for work and other boring shit). My mind will dwell on my flaws and my mind will refuse to give me the motivation I need/want for improving my life. But I *think* I’m still funny and caring and loyal so that’s a bonus right?
here’s to changing and evolving and embracing that change rather than bring ourselves down, because bloody hell it seems like our favourite thing to do.