New Year’s resolutions are for babies!! Yup you heard it here first. Only babies need to uh, grooooo…?-ok nevermind that one’s going nowhere fast.
I never seem to remember what my resolutions are. Get cape, wear cape, fly? Chat less shit? For all you non UK residents, “chat less shit” is a term notoriously used by English rappers, I crack up everytime I hear it.I’m twelve years old remember?
This year I’ve made a simple vow to resolve all the epic fails of the year before. The ones weighing heavily on my left shoulder,yes specifically my left shoulder. Yep i’m resolving to empty that barrel of gooey tar i’ve been schlepping around for a while.
I may not have mentioned it, but last year was by far the most stressful year of my life. Definitely worse than that one time in band camp or when I was forced to sit through Avatar.
I changed career, moved house twice, went under the knife (preschoolers, tweens, Justin Bieber fans) that means I had surgery. Not, I repeat NOT, COSMETIC; so no lipsuction, no nips, no tucks) all within a 6 month period. At one point I could have sworn a vein was going to pop out of my neck; I kid you not. Guess you can say I had me alotta lotta time to think.
I thought about care bears, travelling the world, converting to Dudeism even. And just like that the year was 2012 and the world as we knew it was dust, and we were all lava juice. A Special Thank you to Mr Nostradamus !!
I am where I am- blogging to you from cyberspace; wassup!!!- because of the choices I made and the ones I obviously decided against. The one thing I failed to make happen was a much needed financial overhaul, so I can afford my own living and separate working space. Everything else at this point takes a back seat. Freelancing 7 days a week, 364 days a year-(minus my birthday, that day reserved for me, myself, my cupcakes and my jellybeans)- in fashion terms, means i’ll be broke as a joke for the foreseeable future. That means no Alaïa nothing! “she concludes, sobbing inconsolably.”
So my weekend message of suppa duppa cheer and love is; choose wisely. At some you’ll have to silence the noise to figure out what makes you happy. Not your Mummy or Daddy. Not your Facebook friends. Not your agent/boss/pimp/benefactor. YOU!
And i’m back to eating “my” brownies.