So this Tuesday was my 22nd birthday.
After 4 hours of lectures and a group meeting - consider it an early birthday present to myself - I got on a surprisingly packed train to London on Monday evening.
I had an amazing (am I using that word too much?) night Monday with someone pretty damn special (I know you're going to read this and make fun of me so just shut up in advance), full of lovely feelings (I actually have them, true story) and happiness (oh God, I sound like a hippy, man).
- I got a book on how to use brackets effectively in sentences for my birthday, can you tell?
Tuesday morning was equally lovely, and I spent the rest of the day with family. Mum in the morning, Dad in the evening. Divorce, who doesn't love it?! To be fair, two lots of presents, and two lots of cake. And here is where the issue arises.
So I'm not supposed to eat big meals, or late. After about 6/7pm, it's a no fly zone. And by fly, I mean eat, in case that wasn't clear. Medical thing, not a self-inflicted hipster diet. 'I live on juice alone made from vegetables and wood chippings'... I'm sure you do, now go be 'cool' somewhere else. Anyway, 6/7pm is the cut off point. Why? Because otherwise I get this excruciating pain where I can barely stand that lasts about 8/12 hours (usually overnight). No biggy. Digestion is for losers. It's all about being unique...
Right, so, background story complete, let's get to the good stuff.
Tuesday evening, it got to 6pm and I'd been to lunch with my Mum and had the usual junk food a birthday involves (thanks for the tray of cupcakes Char, I in no way blame you for what is about to entail...). Safe to say, I was full. Very full. Fast forward two hours, my Dad arrived home from work, and dinner was being served. 8pm. Good maths, go you. Dinner and birthday cake. Birthday cake that bit back.
Fast forward again to 11pm. Asleep? Heavens no! That's so yesterday. It's all about staying up all night nowadays. In crippling pain, because otherwise you're just not doing it right.
Fast forward (what seemed like an eternity to me) 7 hours, and it was time to get up to get my train back to Bath for the presentation we had at 11am worth 10% of our grade. 10%. 6:22am train for a 10% presentation. No sleep, still in crippling pain, feeling sick. You know what's missing? Public transport! And let's make it horribly cold too. WHY NOT?! Start my 22nd year as I mean to go on. Screwed, basically.
11am presentation done. Managed to stay awake just about, and the pain started to go (it had been about 12 hours of pain by now, I don't like to do things by halves. No pain no..gain?). After group meetings and some work, 9pm was here. Okay, let's speed this sob story up.
Sleep you ask? Of course! Of course not. Instead of sleep, pain. Pain pain pain. Back again. No sleep Wednesday night. Pain and sobbing (I really think I'm entitled to feel a bit sorry for myself. Fuck off, I am). Thursday morning shines brightly through my window. Screw you sun. Thursday was spent feeling sick and tired (not the phrase, actually nauseous and exhausted). Night time. Sleep? Yes! Sleep! No. No sleep for you. You had cake. You greedy greedy birthday girl.
Thursday I ate all of a cereal bar and a bowl of soup. Clearly, soup and cereal create some sort of sleep-fighting super villian. Thursday night was again spent awake, until about 4am, when the pain killers finally worked and I drifted off to sleep. Luxury.
So, to sum up, the beginning of my 22nd year? Not quite the delight I had envisaged.
However, armed with the coolest umbrella I've ever seen (yeah, I said umbrella, and what), a smiley pizza slice soft toy (the best soft toy I have ever got, like...ever) and a whole heap of really thoughtful presents, I can't really complain. Even the cards I got were thoughtful (Auntie Sarah, you are, and will always an awesome person). In a way, I'd almost say it was... worth it. This birthday was one of the best I can ever remember. Gosh. All 22 years. Yeah alright, Mr/Mrs Picky, it's not that many years, but clearly I'm trying to emphasise that in spite of the rubbish rubbish aftermath of my birthday, it was awesome.
Now, as it's 10pm, and I really miss the excitement from this weeks food-fiasco, I'm off to an all-you-can-eat buffet for a chow down.
I can hear the ambulance sirens' now. x
