Here’s a revolutionary statement: Why can’t we put two fingers in the air and just say ‘Guess what? I love myself! I’m a bombass human. I look great. And beyond all this wobbly, stretchy skin stuff, I’m also pretty darn good on the inside, too’? Yes, I may have listened to ‘The Greatest Showman’ soundtrack one too many times (as if that’s a thing you can overdo), but I’ve been thinking and feeling a whole lot of this for a while. Excuse my French, but seriously. Fuck. This. How dare we build up and validate a society and a narrative that tells us we shouldn’t like ourselves, that we should constantly be trying to make unrealistic changes that aren’t obtainable or do-able or, you know, fair? Honestly, get out. And jolly well close the door behind you.
Ever since I started working full time 10 months ago, my weekends and evenings have become sacred. Whilst I spend every other evening (or two at the moment, because I’m trying but probably not enough) at the gym on weekdays, my weekends have become all about filling the time with all the things I want and need to do. At the same time I want to be able to relax and savour my freedom and just make my little heart happy. But, weirdly, it’s not always easy to do the things you want to do? You guilt trip yourself into thinking you’re being lazy, or waste time doing a lot of nothing — which is good self care when you really need it, but not when you’re just feeling uninspired and…lazy…?
I’m losing you, I can see that. But hold up just a second, because I think my self care practices are pretty good. And this is likely the first of many, so keep a watch out.
I’m going to come right out with my grandma statement and just say it: everything is online these days and I can’t stand it. Actually, that’s a lie. I love social media, I love the internet. But I don’t love online dating, if you can call my own attempts dating. And that’s part of the problem. I have a very jaded view on the prospects of finding anyone to date in my very small, not-a-lot-happening area. I also hate the concept of dating apps, even though I get it. It’s the future. It’s where we’re at.
And although I can’t say I did much in the way of dating before Tinder and Bumble came along, I liked the fact that to get in a position where you could date someone, you had to have already had some kind of face to face action. That you had even the smallest glimpse of who and what they were about, even if it was literally what they actually looked and sounded like. Not to be shallow; my concern is actually how they’d respond to me IRL having met through a dumb app. Because none of us look exactly like our selfies. And, I know for me personally, a confidence otherwise unknown talking to icky boys can be found behind a screen e.g. I am a bumbling, rambly, word vomity mess in person when I’m riddled with nerves and not 100% comfortable.
Even though I detest it all, I’ve decided to more actively online date. Beyond swiping through and getting a short term ego boost when cute people match with me, that is. So I thought we’d get all cards on the table. Here’s what my dating profile would actually say (to fade out all the pointless nobodies who aren’t in it for the long haul and for your amusement, obviously).
Hi, my name’s Alice. I’m twenty-three-years-old. And I am guilty of wishing time away. Looks like my wish may have finally come scarily true, because… where the heck did 2017 go? Yep, it’s that time of year where I write future me a letter, informing her of her progress and crossing all my fingers and toes that she is in an always happier, somehow better place. (If you want to read any of the letters from the last three years I’ve been doing this, I’ve linked the others at the end.) So, 2018 Alice, here’s the dealio.