Squeezing The Life

There are several things that are very wrong with my life;

1) Every single one of my friends are complete flakes- and not the good, chocolate kind; the itchy, annoying dandruff kind (see footnote 1)
2) I have just spent £110.95 on buying 5 tickets to an awesome night out for my friends who are doing stuff with other people (see footnote 2)
3) My life's work of avoiding relationships with men because I consider them generally crap (see footnote 3) has risen to the suspicion within my family that I am, in fact, a lesbian
4) The haircut/ colour I recently spent £160 on does in fairness make me look like a lesbian circa. 1993 (see footnote 4)
5) My hair is falling out, I've been losing weight, I have chronic lethargy, I have a colloid cyst on my thyroid and a tumour in my pituitary gland but a random neurologist has told me that his "hunch" is that I have depression. He skimmed a prescription for anti-depressants across the desk at me and asked me to leave otherwise "we will be here all night" (see footnote five)
6) Radio Julie at work told Radio Kaye that I have a brain tumour who asked me if it will affect me having kids. I don't know, love, does being at work for 12 hours a day whilst still achieving nothing affect your ability to raise yours? (see footnote 6)
7) I hit my boss in the head with my laptop bag in a meeting with most of the SMT (see footnote 7)
8) I did 3 laps of Tesco with my dress tucked into my knickers; they were fuchsia (see footnote 8)
9) All of the above has happened in a 2 and a half month period (see footnote 9)
10) I am only 23 (see footnote 116....gotcha!)

All of the above has contributed to me sitting back and looking very closely at my life (or lack of it as I think you have now gathered). The life has literally been squeezed out of me recently to the point where, yes Dr Rees, I do feel empty but that does not mean you should prescribe anti- depressants willy nilly whilst shuffling girls out of your office. Honestly, any other girl may have taken matters into her own hands and let herself waste away and eventually be nibbled at by her shitzu-poodle cross breed (she-poo-poo), Lola. However, there is one truth universally acknowledged (well, if South West Herts is your universe) that has kept me holding on and reminds me that it could be worse- I am not ugly.

Footnote 1- Here's a little example; everyone's moaning about how they don't have any money to do anything so some genius (moi) elects to pick everyone up in my car (a round trip of about 250 miles- sans petrol money) and drive them to a picnic surprise on the Jurassic Coast. Come the day and Friend Three has a virus (take a Sudafed, love) and Friend Four has period pains. Period pains? PERIOD PAINS! Are you shitting me??? Get a hot water bottle, some chocolate and remind yourself that you've been dealing with this once a month for the past decade. What's that? You're on the central line on your way to see your boyfriend on the other side of London so he can look after you? Right.

Footnote 2- We've been trying to book tickets to this particular event in town for about 5 months now but the tickets sell out really quickly and we keep missing them. Come the day when tickets for the next event are available, I go online and buy 5 for me and Friends One through Four. I excitedly go on Facebook to tell them not to panic, I have secured 5 tickets for us all for what promises to be the best night out in years. But of course, Friend One is going away with her boyfriend, Friend Three is going away with her other friends, Friend Four is on her period and Friend Two will be drunk on Disaronno before we depart and have to sleep it off in Holloway.

Footnote 3- There are a few reasons I don't want a boyfriend, all of which can be summed up by the completely normal horror stories my friends nonchalantly tell me about over burgers in Frankie and Benny's. The boyfriend of a Friend One announced he's moving to Australia in 2 months but don't worry, there's no need to visit as his friend's will be going out to see him. The (ex) boyfriend of Friend Two cheated on her after 4 years. The (almost) boyfriend of Friend Three decided that actually, he still has feelings for the ex who cheated on him so can't start the relationship with her that's been threatening like rain for 3 years. The boyfriend of Friend 4 does not go McDonald's and can therefore not be trusted/liked. Wise as I am and having my head attached with industrial sized Franken-screws, I've come the the decision I don't want to settle for the first man who feigns interest in a shabby night club. However, my family do not recognise the superior intelligence of myself to other girls and so ensued the following conversation with my Nan;

Nan: "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah (pause) Do you have a boyfriend, Lou?"
Me: "What?"
Nan: "Or, you know, girlfriend, whatever you're into."
Me: "What?"
Nan: "Well, you know, anything goes these days."
Me: "Nan, you know I'm not a lesbian don't you?"
Nan: "Oh, yes, love, yeah. Well you know, it wouldn't matter if you were."

Footnote 4- I've always preferred short hair. As far as I'm concerned, long hair is for ugly girls that need something to distract away from their face (see the plastics at school- we all had them). Anyway, Audrey Hepburn had really short hair, Marilyn Monroe had short hair but my hairdresser has cut it quite alarmingly short with a longer bit at the front. Fine on some people but I have a bit of a moon face. Imagine Kate Winslet with man cut hair and a long bit at the front. Now dye it bright red. Exactly. Textbook lesbian circa 1993.

Footnote 5- This diagnosis was based on a 15 meeting introductory meeting with a very tiny man who had very large nostril hairs and insisted on shoving them right in my face when he examined my eyes. Imagine what this fool would have found if I stayed there my allotted 45 minutes?

Footnote 6- Radio Julie and Radio Kaye are Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber. Typical suburban office women who moan about their vast workloads but don't do anything to try and alleviate it on themselves and physically bristle when you suggest they do something about it. Get on the wrong side of them and they'll probably talk about the mistake you made across the office so everyone can hear and someone later comes over to ask you if you are OK. Oh, wait. That's already happened. Twice.

Footnote 7- It wasn't even a short knock in the head. I tried to squeeze in between him and the wall with a cup of tea, a pen, my laptop, my note bad, my lunch bag (kill me now) in my arms and the laptop bag I had swung over my shoulder made contact with the left side of his head as he tried to shuffle in. It then circumnavigated his bald head until finally it slapped back against my thigh. I imagine people looking at me with open mouth syndrome but I didn't wait to check. I quickly saw his red, grinning (or grimacing?) face and made for the door. Which I walked into.

Footnote 8- Why did nobody let me know they could see my pink knickers? I was looking for eggs as well which somehow makes it a bit worse.

Footnote 9- I think I'm in a state of shock. I'm like Lindsey Lohan in that film about luck. I'm quarter Irish though and for what? Not the luck of the bloody Irish I assure you.

Footnote 10- See footnote 116.

Footnote 116- There's a girl at the office who is my age. The other day she was stressed about the fact a dress she ordered online had not turned up. That's what girls my age are worrying about.