After going through my Instagram archive to find the pictures I have of myself and my life before blogging and before the blogosphere became my world, I realized that for the longest time I’ve only been sharing the idealised version of myself, the one with a clear mind and a level head, the one who has one set of chins instead of five and the one who has flawless skin thanks to foundation and brightening. It’s rare for me to admit online cringey things I’ve done and it’s unheard of for me to post a photo of myself mid-cough or with only one eye blinking and an open mouth. So, to lighten the mood, to prove that I’m a bit of an arsehole, I penned this bad boy out.
I called my dad thinking it was a customer
I was asked at work to call a customer and ask them a quick question, without noticing: I was ringing my dad. When he answered, he picked the phone up in his telephone voice. So I didn’t catch on straight away that it was him, and went on to ask him if so and so was in the office because I wanted to ask him about this and that, my dad’s response was a very dry yet hilarious: “George, it’s your dad.” – I continued to spend the next 10 mins laughing my arse off. Not over the phone, but it just tickled me, and my mum too when I told her.
Cried in the airport in Lisbon
I don’t mean a cute tear here or there either, I full on sobbed. Leaving Pedro behind to board a plane back home is always a sad ordeal, but I’ve managed to hold it together each time, I’ve gotten home and been incredibly sad but I’ve kept it together and it’s felt bad. So, this time I let it all out with people watching and security guards giving me sad looks; it wasn’t embarrassing though because I was getting it all out, but I definitely wasn’t happy about it either. Pedro is always the stronger person when it comes to having to leave each other, he keeps himself composed unlike me, I hold on for dear life and never want to let go, but getting all of my tears out before boarding the plane felt better than getting home and feeling just numb.
Threw out the wrong train ticket
I went to get a tattoo this year, and where my tattooist is based requires either a long bus journey or a 45 minute train journey, which I’d rather take. Anyway, I bought a return ticket and when I got to Stourbridge I threw out what I thought was the ticket from where I live to Stourbridge. Well it turns out that when I got on a train back home, I’d thrown out the wrong ticket – which doesn’t sound believable but it was true, I had to stand and explain myself to the ticket man and oh boy. He believed me though because I was visibly mortified, and now I never throw my tickets out until I’m home!
Didn’t Take My Wax Lady Telling Me To “Keep Stretching,” Seriously.
When you get waxed, your beautician has you stretching out your skin in all sorts of places. I get everywhere done because it just makes me feel good. So, one day I went in to get my pits done and she had me stretching out my skin, but as she ripped I somehow managed to let go meaning the wax didn’t rip out, just pulled, and OUCH. She cringed as she heard the velcro-esque ripping sound and I cringed in silent pain and “Why did I do that?”