So it's that time once again, where gyms everywhere praise the lord for guilt and gluttony. If I see one more instagram picture of a smoothie I'm going to engage in a vitamin vendetta against those health conscious pariahs. Oh, is that a spin class you're all doing? Excuse me while I just leave my rich, gooey chocolate brownies here to cool. You conscientious, attractive cunts.
I see my relationship with chocolate and cheese as that of an ethical duty - I'm keeping the workers of Cadbury employed! And those of the Spanx company come to think of it... But hey, my non existent man might need something to hold onto, right? Or a blanket of belly to keep him warm at night. I didn't think it was possible to self-inflict nausea via your own mental description. It turns out I'm very much mistaken.
You have to laugh at the mass panic on January 1st when the world declares it's time for a "new chapter" and a "new them". I love the thought of someone creating a new Facebook profile to cater for this "new them" - so long to drunk photos and too many cat memes. Well, for the next three weeks anyway. Will power can be strong. But a vodka and coke is always stronger.
My resolution was not to be a quitter. I've been this shit for 20 years what's the point in quitting now? Long live Nutella by the spoon!
I also have solemnly accepted the fact that no mater how many times old Mr Hindsight flirts with me post exams, I'm never going to be a reviser. The reason I know this? I have an exam tomorrow morning and I'm currently in the process of baking a sun dried tomato and parmesan loaf. I may not be able to talk in depth about marketing communications, but hell you organise a bake sale and I will bring it like Mary Berry on acid.
But who knows, maybe by some sort of miracle I'll absorb some profound, last minute academia and go Aristotle on the examiner's ass.
Though most likely I'm going to get hand cramps and ink stains from endless streams of non-specific bullshit.
Did someone say a 1st? No? I didn't think so.
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