Check-In/Check-Up!

So, what a weekend!

This is a flattering photo of neither of us, but I fancy I look a tad better

James’ friend, Devan, came over Friday night, which was also James’ birthday, and we went up to Linda’s (J’s mum) house for steak (awesome!) and James was basically a total ass the WHOLE time.. I don’t know if he was acting up because his friend was there (he’s not a toddler, I swear), or was just excited for snowboarding the next day, but either way, I was absolutely dreading the rest of the night. When we got home, the boys had gone and bought 3 bottles each of this super strong cider, and James hadn’t packed anything. He whined loads, but eventually we all settled down on the sofa (it’s a big sofa….)

 

and ended up having a really freaking fun evening! See, Devan does photography stuff, and product design at Uni, so he has awesome gadgets (I have a desperate need for an iPad Pro…) and so we got on really well having geeky chats about photography. The boys got more and more drunk, and as I wasn’t drinking, I laughed my head off. Plus, hilarious snapchats. Overall, it was really not as bad as I thought it might have been, and now I’ve learned that I should be a bit less uptight over stuff like that and relax first.

 

We were in bed by half midnight, and they were up at 4:30…out the door by 4:50! Off to France for a week of snowboarding, alcohol, and pizza (and apparently Danish girls doing the splits…. o.O)

He really is such a dick…

I, on the other hand, had something to attend to. I had to meet my dad’s girlfriend. Long story short, my dad had a midlife crisis, cheated on my mum with a 28yr old (I was 22 at the time, I think) and contrary to what everyone said would happen, is still with her. My parents’ divorce was finalised over Christmas, and by happy accident, my dad’s gf (her name is Helen, which is unhelpfully also the name of my aunt (my dad’s sister, who he lives with)) was here this weekend. And I somehow ended up agreeing to meet her.

 

I thought this might be a bad idea for a few reasons, not least being that if James wasn’t here then I couldn’t depend on his particular brand of humour to cheer me up, and also that he couldn’t be there too to drive me home when I got myself drunk in order to cope. This therefore meant that I a) couldn’t drink, and b) had to make sure that I was mentally capable of coping on my own. So, I made preparations.

 

See above. This is my plan. I don’t know about everyone else, but I feel infinitely better when I have my “warpaint” on. Rightly or wrongly, I feel better in makeup, and when my hair is done, and I have my nails sorted. I feel prepared, and I feel like me. If I haven’t got my nails painted, I feel weird. It has been (as you can see) some time since I did my roots, but I wanted to have my lilac hair back, so I did that in the morning on Saturday. It had been a weird bluey-yellow-grey which was…well, weird.

 

I painted my nails (well, I painted a false set and stuck them on), and I made sure I did my makeup with an old Lancome palette that I know always goes on well. I used my new MAC foundation that seems to go on amazingly, match perfectly, and stay put (I have yet to try it under testing conditions, but for now I’m in love), and made sure my eyelashes were ready to kill. I wore my new Jo Malone perfume that fills me with happiness and calm everytime I breathe it in, and my H&M jumper that I was so happy to be able to wear in a size S. In short, I put on my armour, pulled up my big girl panties, swore under my breath that I was an adult and that this would need to happen eventually, and drove to dinner.

Long story short, she’s exactly what I expected, and I’m still creeped out by her age (more specifically, the age difference between me and her, and the fact she should be my SISTER not my potential step mother), but I feel I managed perfectly reasonable conversation, I chatted and smiled, and tried not to pretend that she wasn’t there. I painted my aunt’s nails, grumbled that James was on holiday and I wasn’t, and then left at about 22:30 because that’s a reasonable time to be in bed.

 

When I got home (had to totally defrost the inside and outside of the car, and had to pop into Tesco for loo roll) I made my bed (after discovering that the white, 100% Egyptian cotton fitted bedsheet delivered from Amazon was in fact a white, polycotton double duvet set, and subsequently contacting them to have them sort this out), lit the candle, removed all makeup, got into clean (Harry Potter) pyjamas, and laid there ignoring everything and just focusing on my breathing.

 

I managed a whole 8 hours of sleep, and then transferred myself to the sofa for a duvet day of wrestling with Photoshop (it won the battle, but I will not let it win the war), and then watching film after film, and ordering Dominos because I wanted it.

 

Weekend rating overall: 5/10, do not recommend. Also, I do NOT like sleeping on my own. James needs to get his butt back home.

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V.I.C.T.O.R.Y.

I am dancing right now! Not that you can see it, but please, feel free to imagine it.

So, we got paid yesterday. This is brilliant for many reasons, but the main one being that I can finally buy the last couple of presents, and also bought a load of food for the foodie pressies I’m making. The second reason is that I really wanted to have something nice to wear on Christmas Day. I have lost a stone in the past few months, and I want to look at any photos taken on Christmas Day and think “Ah, remember that present?” not, “Holy shit I look like a whale”. I know we’ve all had moments where we’ve thought we looked half decent only to see a photo and want to curl up into a ball and shrivel to nothingness, but there is one photo of me last year  two years ago (2014) that makes me nearly cry every time I see it. When I look at it, I wonder how on earth James found me attractive, and thank my lucky stars that he obviously really doesn’t mind my size! I will post it here, because it serves a purpose.

I look pregnant. God it’s awful seeing it again!

Now, I decided I wanted to wear leggings on Christmas Day due to them being comfy, and me enjoying my comfort. But, if one wants to look like not a slob whilst wearing leggings, a nice top/dress is of utmost importance. I’m fortunate enough to work right next to a large shopping mall 

so I had a look online for anything that might be sold inside that would require minimal walking.

 

Fortune is clearly on my side as there’s the perfect jumper! Ah, but H&M…well. They’re known for their tiny sizing; I was thrilled when I fitted into a dress of theirs that’s a size ‘L’, and that wasn’t fitted or anything. I also wanted jeans…dark ones. I’ve never owned dark jeans as I thought they made my thighs look massive. Found some…but again, H&M! Even worse for jeans than tops. I tried on a pair of size 16 ones not that long ago and couldn’t even get them up my thigh sooooo.

Anyway, I took the screenshot off with me to H&M on my lunchbreak on the basis that with all the crowds, I couldn’t cope with looking around for things (why aren’t all the jumpers/jeans/tops just in ONE place grouped together..) but I would ask a nice assistant if they stock it and where it is, and then I could try it on. I do this, but, horror, they only have one left! And it’s a SMALL. Still, I’m full of festive cheer and not wanting to have to try and find another outfit, I decide to give it a whirl. H&M in Norwich also has their jeans right next to a changing room, so on my way I have a look through and find some nice ones in size…30? What is a 30? European sizing confuses me, so I just grab them thinking it can’t be worse than failing to get a size 16 over my thighs.

 

That was the result. I’m so in love with the jumper it’s unreal, and the jegging-y things are so soft and amazing and comfy. The jumper isn’t the soft rose colour I was expecting, and it’s a little dingy, but with some sparkling gold jewellery and nailpolish, I’ll be sorted.

But….drum roll please……..SIZE 30 IN EU IS A SIZE 12 IN UK SIZING. I AM A SIZE 12 IN H&M JEANS OMG. So, I know they’re stretchy…but they do up, comfortably, around my squish. I got them over my thighs!! I actually like how I look in them!

So, yesterday was the biggest bestest day of my life so far, and I’m thrilled. Christmas will no longer be horrid, I may look half decent in photos, I fake-tanned last night and only managed to miss my right knee (how did I even do that?!) and nobody will be seeing that anyway…and everything, finally, is coming up Milhouse (Harriet).