So I’m moving to London in September, which is exciting but at the same time part of my northern soul dies inside, to be a student again because apparently a Theology degree doesn’t scream “EMPLOYABLE.” Aside from the inner turmoil that is coming with moving to the south, I am having to spend SO MUCH TIME sifting through shit while packing. Usually I would just move all my shit around and avoid sorting it out, but I’m moving in with Thomas and I don’t think he wants the complete collection of Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, hardback and audiobook editions, to be in our shared bedroom.
Whilst I’ve been contorting myself around the shit in my room, I have discovered some truly distressing possessions that I have been avoiding acknowledging for a while.
- A signed copy of a Katy Price book.
I can’t even pretend that this was something I won in a raffle, or that I bought the book and it happened to be a signed copy. Nope. I bought the book and the queued up for 3 HOURS to have it signed by Katy Price. I was about 14 and all I remember from the book is that the protagonist is given a diamond thong and I thought that was the height of sophistication. If Thomas bought me a diamond thong I would have him admitted to hospital and sell it on the black market. The woman in the book had it ripped off her by the teeth of her lover but I cannot imagine she did not also go on to sell it on the black market, or at least have it made into a necklace. It is only just hitting me that they probably weren’t real diamonds, they would probably cut your bum, right?
- Unsure what it is called but… this.
Right, I don’t want to make excuses or anything, but I did I buy this while I was depressed and unmedicated. I don’t know who the fuck I thought I was, or who I thought Thomas was. I’m not even sure what underwear I thought I would pair this with because I like to buy knickers either in packets from M&S OR that have a fun pattern on. Surely the knickers that I would wear this with are a huge thrush risk. Either way, I’m now unsure if I can give this to a charity shop. I work for a charity but I don’t think this is the kind of thing I can send a group email about. I don’t even know what it’s called – mid section between bra and knickers? Tummy underwear? Tummy knickers?
- Groovy Chick’s Guide to Shopping and Style.
I honestly don’t know how I still have this and I don’t know if I’m actually that embarrassed about it. If someone were to find it in my room, without me being there to explain that it was from when I was younger, I would die a little inside. OMG there is a ‘How Groovy are You?’ quiz and I MUST take it right this moment… One of the questions is “You have £10 to spend in the sales, which of these would you get?” – Obviously c. GLITTER BODY GEL. Ok so I got ‘mostly B’s: Fashion Fantastic! You are a pretty Groovy Chick and you just love to shop. My style guide will give you the best shopping ideas ever. Go girl!’ RIP ME.
- My breast casts.
I have ZERO shame that these exist. Originally I made them for my boyfriend’s boyfriend but he is artistically, emotionally and intellectually stunted and therefore cannot appreciate my artistic vision. He maintains that this was not a great present from me, but I’m pretty sure that he loves my breasts and therefore why would he not love them hanging on his wall?
Anyway, what I’m embarrassed about is the direction I went re the decoration. I started off keeping them white with small pink nipples…. But, much like when I only planned on bleaching a bit of my hair, it was too hard not to cover the whole thing. So now they look like this……..
They’re just a reminder that I will never be the total artistic babe that I always dreamed of being and that I’m too lazy to do them again because I already have a fresh pic on Insta of me making them, so cba doing it again. I just wish they didn’t look like they were covered in a rash. They look like sad, sad breasts, not arty cool girl breasts.
- This God damn book.
I passed my theory test first time, BUT I CANT GET RID OF THIS FUCKING BOOK BECAUSE I CAN’T PASS MY PRACTICAL AND NOW ITS BEEN 5 YEARS AND SO I HAVE TO RETAKE IT, GOD DAMN!! This book just sits there saying “PASS YOUR FUCKING TEST” and it won’t listen to my really well reasoned environmental argument for not driving. It is embarrassing because it hates the environment and it hates ME!