A Date with a Pot of Wax

I did it. I talked about it a couple of posts ago, but ended up chickening out twice. But today I went through with it.
I got a brazilian wax. For anyone who wants to be spared the gritty details, skip the next paragraph! It was shockingly painful; now I'm not actually sure why I got it. My friend Louise got one done last year before jetting off to Thailand with her boyfriend. She was absolutely determined, a far cry from her former feminist ravings of it being 'de-womanising'. Maybe it is, but I definitely feel more girly. I feel like something more teen-ish, cute, young and fun. I guess I feel like it suits my age more.
It's been a feeling, all through my 'teenage years', that I'm not really living the way I should be. I feel older than I am, in the way I act, the things I like, the people I like.. but I'm not emotionally mature enough to really pursue them and fit in... going on a tangent.
In conclusion, the wax hurt like hell. But I'll do it again!

On other news, I have an apartment! I know I've already said it - it may not be new news, but it's great news. I've been rejoicing constantly about this since I found out, but now comes the two-week wait until I can move in. The anticipation is killing me. I can't wait to put my posters up, hang my pictures, make my bed in my new room, eat out of pizza boxes on the floor for lack of furniture.. actually, that last one isn't so great. But I'm excited nonetheless.
It's in Richmond, right near a lot of my favourite places. It's near my shrink which is always good, near the Vietnamese fresh markets and restaurants on Victoria Street, near Chapel Street (fashion! clubs! random midnight fun!), Bridge Road (cheap fashion!), Swan Street (homewares), the river which I like to run along and .. best of all... IKEA! I will be in heart-shaped ice cube tray heaven!

Something else that has been weighing on my mind a bit lately is the way I look. Jumping on the scales the other day, it hit me that I am the heaviest I have ever been. I don't look it - I have certainly looked fatter than this before, but it's a worry. I don't look fat, I probably don't even look overweight, but my body is a weight that doesn't make me feel good, or thin. So I have to do something about it. Something big.
I've been working out a lot, trying to do at least an hour of exercise a day. Let's see if this works.

Anyway, midafternoon naptime!

One More Thing...

Comments actually do serve a purpose - they let me know that people do read this, and make me feel I should continue this. So maybe be a little more forthcoming?

Anger!

The days of the last few weeks are blurring together in a weird sort of monotony - it's not necessarily a bad thing, it's just nothing is really happening. Sleeping and eating and showering form the biggest events of my days, horrifyingly enough, though I think this recharge time was needed.

Moving! In the next couple of weeks.. probably around the 20th of February. Into a beautiful apartment in Richmond, right next to the Yarra. It has two bedrooms, a study, two bathrooms, open plan living and a huge balcony. There is also a pool in the complex! It sounds much more exciting and exotic than the type of apartment that a student should have though.. and it is. Shall be an absolutely brilliant place to live; it's also very close to Bridge Road and Swan Street, so it should be a breeze getting some job in a boutique or gallery. There are signs up everywhere, and I have retail experience now!
Plus I need some sort of income now that Myer have unceremoniously decided not to keep on the 80% of Christmas staff, as they promised when I was employed. Sucks to trust what the management say, I guess.

Australia Day came and went without ceremony. Lucien played World of Warcraft all day, so I spent the day doing deliciously decadent 'me' things.. like covering my face in green clay that smelt good enough to eat, rubbing different types of moisturiser into different parts of my body, painting my nails, reading Vogue, doing sit-ups and stretches and.. (guiltily) eating this beautiful chocolate. Actually I ate it the night before, but the wrapper was still laying on the desk in the morning! It's called Intense Orange by Lindt, from the supermarket - dark chocolate with slivers of almonds, infused with orange. It was lovely, and I'm not even usually a big wrap for dark chocolate.
Lucien has annoyed me a lot lately.. and yes, I can write this with complete confidence that he won't read it because he wouldn't dare pry himself away from World of Warcraft. That is pretty much the reason for my annoyance. I will admit that I have dabbled in the game and do play occassionally - when he is at work. I think this is acceptable; it doesn't impinge on life this way, it's simply a way to pass the time. However, Lucien tends to be a bit obsessive. In the past he has stayed up all night trying to hand in that quest or get that monster, and every time his subscription ran out he'd vow to be smarter about it in the future. This time is different - he is bestowing a level of importance on this game that is unprecedented. He plays it when he gets home from work until he goes to sleep. On weekends, he plays when he wakes up, maybe goes to find some lunch with me and then plays again until he sleeps. I feel.. not neglected, but angry that a stupid game (that is all it really is) could completely usurp the position I hold in Lucien's list of priorities. He seems to think it's alright for him to play for hours at a time while I simply wait around for him, just so long as he gives me a hug or smiles at me once in a while. It's not nice, and whenever questioned about it, he is so .. well, deluded about how much time and energy he does actually put into it that we end up fighting. It's not a good state of affairs.. I'm wondering if I could sneak onto his account and act like a total prick and get him banned or something. Or.. maybe I'll just make him read this.

So in the spirit of protest, I up-and-left for the weekend to go back to my Mum's house. Protest directed partly towards Lucien, partly toward idiot housemate. Muhahmed, I think I mentioned him in a previous post.
He is the world biggest wastrel, turning on every single light switch in the house and leaving them on. While Victoria is in the middle of a dire drought, he left the taps running hard for 10 minutes while he shaved, while I was waiting for him to get out of the bathroom so I could have a shower. Then he had the nerve to get angry at me when I tried to have a shower, saying that he had wanted to have a shower first. I should have stood up for myself, but no, I was so angry that I could not speak - I simply went back to my room and screamed in a pillow.
He also stole my fan, which Lucien managed to get back through his powers of negotiation, and used ALL of my washing detergent. And when his scary, fat, rich relatives from Cyprus came over he showed them my room. MY room - the one full of boxes and suitcases full of clothes and everything in various stages of being packed. They laughed and muttered and exchanged glances. Grrr..
And he's constantly having loud conversations on the phone in the kitchen, not just loud but literally shouting into the phone. At any hour of the day or night that he chooses.
He has no respect for women at all, expects me to clean up after him and openly stares at me whenever I bend over. So many more horrible things...

Ok, I think I'm done now. He irks me - I used to have some sort of respect for him for trying to improve his English skills and endeavouring to get a job, but I've realised he really is just a vile human being, the type that makes a pig seem civillized.

I feel slightly better now!

HNT #2

Gratuitous boob shot, I know. It's a photo I took a couple of weeks ago to 'hide' on Lucien's computer for him. But luckily he has expressed interest in helping take some pictures for this little endeavour.. lucky me. Maybe lucky you?

Self-Improvement + Sharks

I just realised that all the little tiny blonde hairs growing on my forearms don't match. On one arm, they follow some sort of pattern and grow in unison away from the 'inside' - if that makes even the slightest bit of sense. On the other arm, there is less hair but it is just a bit crazy. It's all growing in different directions and the hairs are different lengths. Why, oh why?
I only waxed my arms once, when I was about 14 and I got over-enthusiastic with the novelty of hair removal. I got bruises from waxing - who gets that? It was the height of stupidity, with a dash of humiliation for whenever people asked who'd been beating me up.

Tomorrow I'm going for a much bigger, scarier waxing job. A lot of my friends have it done regularly and assure me that it isn't quite as bad as you would imagine. I'm not convinced, but hey, I want to experience everything once. Perhaps I'll post a little account of what happened for all those brazillian wax virgins. I won't be one tomorrow.. eek.

Hold the phone - something awesome was on the news as I was eating my lunch today. Amongst the regular war on terror updates and the reassuring message that the escaped sex offenders from my suburb were actually caught, there was a reported sighting of a shark in the Yarra River. The Yarra runs straight through Melbourne and is a horribly polluted mess, as are most major rivers that run through large metropolitan areas nowadays (sad), but apparently it's increasing salinity has meant that a shark felt at home enough to swim through it.
So, if you ever fall into the Yarra after a crazy night on the town, your major worry won't be rats, filth or ruining your new shoes anymore.

Lucien was sick today. How much of it was actually feeling ill I'm not sure - he has a big presentation to give tomorrow on ethics, politics and human rights, and there are also a million and one internship applications staring at him with due dates edging closer all the time.
I've been at my Mom's house visiting and generally mooching off the social contact and, well, food that being at home brings. Poor Lucien is stuck in the city with nobody to look after him.

Last year, one of the hardest things about living away from home was the fact that there was nobody to look after me when I was sick. Having my manked immune system, I get sick often. Probably chest/sinus/throat infections about 10-11 times a year, and this regular pattern is peppered with viruses and other lovely things, not to mention the joy that is post-viral fatigue. It seems that whenever I get it, it's worse than the last time, like my body just doesn't ever completely recover from the last bout of whatever. I like filling my life and schedule up with as many interesting and fulfilling things as I can, which is completely out of sync with what my body wants.
Being sick when nobody is around is possibly one of the worst punishments ever. I don't want somebody waiting on me and responding to my every beck and call, but it's nice to know that there is somebody in the next room who can give you a hug if you need it, or drive you to the doctors if it gets really bad. But being alone, and unable to do anything or even sleep through it, is horrible.

How did I get onto such a depressing topic? Oh Lucien, right. Well, he called and he has hauled himself onto a train so he can come home to his parents for a weekend of recuperation and TLC. Good.

A nap would be divine right now, but a horde of aunties are coming around for afternoon tea shortly. Mother is out getting supplies and I'm supposed to be making sure everything looks nice. But an afternoon nap...?

No rest for the wicked.

HNT #1

I jumped on the bandwagon. But can I think of a better way to get my kit off than in front of strangers? Especially those that I can show the not-so-bad bits too, without having to accept their judgment if I don't want to?

Yes, it's a pretty poor effort for a first go. Oh well, until next Thursday!

Cough, Splutter

Somehow managing to get less-than-healthy, again. I've had a rather bad cough and sore throat all day, though I suspect it may be from excess consumption of glitter. The Christmas department at Myer is still up and running, and becoming a more bizarre place to be as the days go on. People are coming in and complaining that we don't have enough stock left - it's not Christmas anymore, people. They are honestly starting their Christmas shopping in January. It's beyond belief.

Certain supermarkets are already selling hot cross buns. Despite the fact that any bun on the shelves right now will be well and truly dead by the time it's actually Easter. I know people like to be prepared and avoid the rush, but this is insane.

Besides my disdain for retail practices, work is much fun. I had some fun and lovely conversations with a young (well, a lot older than me) man today - he manages another department, but was working in mine to make up numbers. Despite being almost the polar opposite of my usual type (he is barely taller than me, slender, long sandy blonde hair, a million piercings and a strange goatee, and constantly dressed like some strange emo homeboy that got mixed up in punk rock and fond of annoying me any chance he gets, especially in an Elmo voice), he is quite lovely. Let's call him Billy. Not sure whether this is a 'friendship crush' or whether it is even slightly rose-tinged, but we'll see. Lucien and I came to a sort of 'seeing other people' arrangement, but I still feel wrong about even admitting out loud to crushing on somebody who isn't my boyfriend. And even worse about admitting that if Billy were to make a move, I'm not sure I would resist him. Ah, if only I could be one of those charmed creatures who can breeze through life without ever feeling the pangs of guilt, uncertainty or regret.

And there is a dangerous twist of fate - next Saturday, the cool people from my department are running off to the far-eastern suburbs for an afternoon-evening of drinking and possible debauchery. And a lot of Jagerbombs. Billy will be there, as will I. Treading thin ice! Perhaps I should take Lucien with me to the party, as a sure safeguard. Ah - stress!

By the way, a random note: Lucien protested to his online psuedonym - "Why didn't you just call me Lucifer?". I happen to think Lucien is a cool name, like a slightly French version of like Lucius Malfoy (who I have an unreasonably ardent crush on, considering his fictional status). Keep in mind, I think Judas is a perfectly lovely name for a boy.. if only it weren't for all those unfair connotations.

Bleh, too late - I'm going to bed. Not going to be able to sleep in this heat, but I'll have to try. Going surfing tomorrow!

Resolutions

Last year my resolutions were rather mundane. Lose weight. Get a tan. Be nice to Lucien. Find a cool job. Et cetera. They were short sentences without reason or a plan for reaching the ultimate goals, so this year is a bit different. 2006 was possibly the worst year of my short life; moving out of home into the House of Mirth, trying to cope with university, suffering horrible jobs and temporary unemployment, trials and tribulations with Lucien and not a great deal of support from people around me.
So the objective of 2007 will be for me to stand proudly on my own two feet, and the theme is thus independence.

• I will take care of myself, physically and mentally, so that I don't spiral out of control. So no more junk food, or nights of not sleeping, or days of letting myself get depressed. Instead of letting these things happen, I will actively seek good things that will bring both short and long term gain for me.
  
• I need to have more confidence in myself and my abilities and try not to let it waver, because I am healthy, young, intelligent and probably mildly attractive - there is absolutely no reason why I shouldn't be setting the world on fire right now. To do this, I suppose if I start acting as if I am confident and self-assured, it will eventually become ingrained in me.
  
• Becoming more organised will be a priority. Little things like taking off my makeup before I go to bed or putting my socks in the laundry basket, up to bigger things like actually writing down when I have to work, and making sure I keep appointments. I've taken the first step - I bought a big week-by-week diary and intend to use it well.

And now some little ones:

• No more self-deprecation.
• Regular goal setting sessions with myself so I can see where I'm going.
• Spending less time stressing out about what might happen, and more time just doing it.
• More photos on my blog.
• Getting haircuts regularly rather than waiting until I look like a drowned rat and panicking.
• Taking chances.
  
• Not telling my parents everything; it's not necessary, so I don't have to.
• Keeping my own secrets strictly to myself, and not feeling I have to get everybody else's approval.

There. Done, I think. I'm sure I'll think of some more. Hopefully this is the year where I will actually make the leap from being a confused teenager with erratic moods to young lady rewriting all the rules.