Inpulses...I used to be impulsive, but now I have to be careful about things. Considering my left knee is gross and full of liquid, I still decided to go down to Oxfam to pay my penance and then go on to trek on down to Children's Express to work on my radio story.
My dad wasn't happy, but he was still in bed when I left and couldn't do anything about it. Oxfam was alright, and we had THE buy of the week: A man came down all the way from Stratford to Ealing Broadway (over an hour on the Central line), to buy a Prince CD Holder Cutout....that's right, a Lifesize (well, slightly larger) carboard Prince cutout. We made it flat with masking tape, he paid £30 and set him on his way. How hilarious! It had been with us since I actually started in the old shop last July, and I didn't think we'd ever get rid of it, let alone have someone come all the way from the other side of London come down for it. But anyways, he looked soo happy that I almost envied him cos my left knee was still giving me hell.
When I was putting away a box of DVDs (filed) it bangs my knee and burst the massive white spot on it. It was gruesome, but I could walk easier, so that was cool. Going to Oxfam was a good thing! Buuut, next week I'm staying overnight in Canary Wharf! So professional, so...modern Londoner..so trendy. I've never been trendy!
By the time I actually got to Children's Express I was almost fed-up. I've been reading the Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath (depression made a literary brand, but not bad at all), and it's been filling me with this lazy, melancholic, aarghness feeling. But I got busy. The radio story is finally taking off, even though I'm still trying to figure out how to use a minidisk, as that's BBC's weapon of choice. Basically, I talked over what I've done so far - the survey, the research, etc with this Irish guy called Marty who had this gorgeous accent which I just loved, and we talked about what to actually put on it cos I had NO idea, and we got ideas for music, and I found out I don't have to speak much (yay!). Eventually, we managed to interview a couple of lasses over our main points, and the future seemed rosy. Hmm, if I ever managed to not be such a horrid technophobe (and I didn't cringe at my voice), I may try to get into the world of radio journalism! Watch out, erm, Radio..erm, 4. Woo!-ooh! Ahem.
I did get home, and I'm totally exhausted. After all of that walking from my poor leg its getting twinges and I'm going to rest now and try really hard to not aggravate it anymore. I'd like to avoid crutches.
As you may know, my Dad's been noticing my eating issues, and he keeps trying to help. He went into my room! My Room, sacred, teenage secrets which fathers aren't supposed to plunder (my diary was out in full view. He's being really nice to me, but hasn't said anything, so I don't know whether to be nervous or not.) And tidied it he has NEVER tidied my room since I could tidy myself. He even got me to make dinner with him - curry chicken, rice and peas. It was lovely, and only 375 calories (around), but I just want to get it out of me. It feels like it's eating my body, and if I keep eating, there'll nothing left but...leftovers. I never thought of it that way, actually.
But I don't want to disappoint Dad. All I keep thinking about are the cookies in my bag from yesterday, and my 8 and half stone weight target (just below 120 pounds). So I just keep typing..trying to smile, but I'm so exhausted, I might as well give in. I think I need 'Me' time, whatever that means. I'm not the type to pamper myself unless I really have to. My idea of pampering means not being on call, or having to do anything except curl up with a good book and some cookies, or hot chocolate, or chocolate hobnobs. Or sleeping. A good 12 hour sleep is almost excessive pampering to me, then I have to wear myself out with volunteering work, or over-exercising, or gardening, studying - something.
So the idea of the whole hot, lavender filled, candle choked bath, and chocolate covered strawberries, cucumbers on my eyes, and sandalwood oils, then followed by a hour long Thai massage and the palm leaf fans sound Absolutely Absurd. I'm probably shooting myself in the foot by saying that, in case if one of my friends was planning this for me. I just don't see what all the fuss is about pampering and all that. It's all cool, perfumed air.
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