Sunday

Its a typical Sunday here. I’m currently digesting a rather large fried breakfast and Hollyoaks is on in the background. I feel guilty about the telly being on while I am also on my laptop and that I am wasting energy and contributing to the climate problem but I am also guilty that I had quite a lot of fry-up and I look a bit like an over-stuffed sausage in my jeans.

I rarely have a relaxing weekend you see. The most relaxing time I ever have is in the shower after work during the week. The rest of the time I am either guilty about something trivial and silly or worrying about something else (boyfriend, weight, money, application to study a postgrad). Yesterday I went into town with Mum in hopes to get some shopping and bonding done before my 2pm appointment for a glycoid peel at the clinic. Shopping with Mum is rarely relaxing and as we left late we spent no time at all dithering about dresses or postulating about pumps. We had to shortly after collect Mum’s broken iBook (brother’s intervention no doubt) and then she drove me past the clinic and I had to sprint to make it to my appointment on time lest I lose my £25 deposit on top of the £69 treatment.

The glycoid peel was ok, I was booked in for a microdermabrasion but my beautician thought it was time for a change! It stung a bit and I looked like a thin-faced ashen drug addict on the walk to the car park after. This is another thing that I worry about. I haven’t got the clearest skin in the world. My teenage acne was quite hideous and left me with scarring but now as age hones the make-up skill I can pass for pretty with a bit of elbow grease included. I still get spots but its the scarring that ticks me off. Anyway, I have been investing (all my own £££ of course) in clinical skin treatments and maybe if I will £3,000 in Vegas in March I’ll get that laser skin resurfacing that the plastic surgeon my beautician brought in once suggested.

Vanity working on a weak mind causes every kind of mischeif. Or so Austen’s Perfect Man reminds us.

So yes, I am going to Vegas with the folks from work. No I really am! And I am not much of a gambler at all, to be honest I can see myself spending the whole 4 days poolside bothering the lovely Wynn Hotel barmen for Mojitos, however one can’t help but dream about that jackpot win! My postgrad fees paid, I could put a deposit down for a flat, I could learn to drive, I could get laser sin resurfacing… help out my parents with the construction work on the house.

A girl can dream. A girl can watch Hollyoaks.

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