Skinny blonde og

I yawn! I’m tired, but I know I won’t sleep. It’s just past 11pm, so I break an Ambien in half and swallow it with a slurp of water. Sometimes you’ve just got to admit defeat and ask for help before 3am rolls around and you’re even more desperate and underslept.

This week has been emotional, upsetting and strange. I feel like I’ve dissociated out of my own life again. I’m waiting to snap back into myself and light up. It feels as though there’s an integral little piece missing from inside me that needs putting back.

After overwhelmingly sad and intimate dreams last night I’ve been alarmingly, perhaps inappropriately horny; In a craving intimacy and meaning and feeling understood sort of way. Not in a gross, perverse teenage-boy-whore way. I’m not a pervert and I probably shouldn’t be talking about this on the internet.

I want this Ambien to kick in already so I can stop feeling like I want to set myself on fire from frustration and boredom, living in my cage with gilded bars.

I came out of my cage today, though!

I went to the hairdressers and sat in a quilted leather swivelling salon chair for hours while my entire head of hair was engulfed by neatly folded silver foil origami, using the slices technique to make me a creamy, dreamy, pearlescent blonde bitch again. I always pay extra for Olaplex or K18 on top of all the bleaching so my hair still feels absurdly luscious and healthy afterwards. I do feel much happier now my roots have disappeared and I’m Barbie blonde again.

After an almost five-hour stint in the salon from start to finish, I tipped my hair stylist a crisp £10 note, hopped on the train (two trains, actually) to my favourite matcha café and drank my drink far too fast. I wanted another almost immediately, but I didn’t want to look greedy and embarrassing by walking straight back in to order a second. So instead I people-watched, feeling all beautiful and glowy beneath my fresh halo of blonde.

I’d taken one and a half Klonopins earlier to get me through my appointment, so I smiled at almost every stranger who peered in my direction as they passed me by. —I wondered where everyone was going!

I wore this newly purchased long baby blue trad-wife-wet-dream dress from Abercrombie. I really love Abercrombie because their clothes are genuinely quality and well made. Nicely constructed, usually double-lined, featuring little details that make a difference, such as adjustable bra-style straps on nearly all their summer dresses! resulting in much more flattering, durable and infinitely easier to wear and care-for pieces. That don’t end up looking like shit after a few stints in the washing machine.

Talking of flattering, my favourite thing about Abercrombie is that they do extremely small (and big) sizes, as well as offering everything in petite sizing (regular and tall, too). Though of course, you know I’m there to sell out the XXS Petite. There aren’t many brands whom make clothes that actually fit me. Such inclusive, miniature sizing isn’t commonplace! Hollister, who I am certain are owned by Abercrombie also have this wide range of sizing. —And I extremely appreciate it. So I tend to shop from these places, not always because they have the best stuff, but because I do feel reassured that whatever I buy will actually fit and flatter my body. —Which believe me, isn’t always a given! And when you have a body like mine, it would be unjust not to present it at its best!

For the first time since I had plastic surgery on my ears, I’ve started watching Love Island again!!

I had vowed myself above Love Island. But I take it all back because, from a sociological and psychological perspective, it’s terrifically interesting!

I honestly can’t fault it. I was just an uptight, prissy hater before, clearly .

It’s nostalgic, too. The last time I watched this show I was recovering from my otoplasty in the skinny house I used to share with my ex. He’d gone abroad somewhere and I was alone in my second week of recovery, curled up in the corner of that insanely uncomfortable grey, period blood and pizza stained sofa beneath blankets, clutching a fuzzy hot water bottle in the middle of July, wearing my tight, ugly, black compression headband which secured my painful, throbbing ears that had quite literally been detached and then reattached to the sides of my head!!

Love Island makes me feel anxious in exactly the same way watching videos of people climbing skyscrapers with their bare hands does. I feel physically sick, yet completely compelled to watch, just to make sure nobody falls to their death.

Because, you know, heartbreak and plummeting out of the sky only to splatter like a dropped egg are strangely alike in all the ways that matter.

—I’m going to be perhaps controversial here, and say it. I’m not fond of these trendy peptide lip glosses. The peptides, I presume, make my lips peel in such a subtle way that I don’t notice until it’s far too late and suddenly my mouth is shedding like a snake!!

This horror unfolded today just as my hairdresser asked if he could photograph my new colour.

"Of course, darling," I smiled. Never one to turn down having my photograph taken. "Just let me pop on some more gloss."

But as I squeezed the peptide formula across my lips I realised they were literally peeling from the pressure of the applicator.

What the hell, uggghhhhhh!

So I can’t recommend peptide lip products with a pure heart, I’m afraid. I’ll stick to my Chanel Coco Rouge gloss, thank you very much. It actually moisturises my lips instead of making them shed like my uterus does once a month.

Talking of which, my period is finally over and with that news I sincerely pray my mental health begins improving again. I mean, honestly!!

In some lighter news (literally), I’ve lost weight! The BMI calculator at my annual NHS contraceptive pill check-up declared me underweight.

Actually, there’s only been one appointment where it didn’t. That was after I came back from America, where I managed to gain ten pounds and weighed in at 110 pounds!

Now I’m back down again, to 99!! Which feels like a big jump after sitting on 104 for a while. I was not actually anticipating or expecting this!

What’s even stranger is that I have apparently (although I remain deeply sceptical that somebody simply hung the chart up incorrectly) grown taller!?!?

I’ve been 5'2" my entire life, but this week the chart insisted I’m 5'3"! Wth! I haven’t yet decided whether I’m prepared to embrace this new identity because I was rather attached to being exactly the same height as Kim K.

We shall see.

I suppose one benefit to being taller than I thought is that I probably look skinnier! So I’ll take the small win where I can. I’m still tiny so who really cares what the chart or scales read? Not me! I’ve never actually paid much attention to numerical metrics, to be honest with you. Numbers are a man’s business. Lolololol.

I go off something much more tactile and real than numeracy, I go off bones. My bones. How much they poke out. How much my stomach concaves in. This sort of data means a lot more to me than numbers on a scale. And thank God to be honest, because it would suck if I was one of those people who had a weighing compulsion. I’ve got enough compulsions to keep me busy already!

I ate chocolate for dinner because my parents fried meat sausages in the kitchen tonight and thusly the entire lower ground floor smells so overwhelmingly of pork that it completely turned my stomach. I couldn’t bring myself to cook down there. I shudder at the thought of potential splatter. So instead I had a bag of vegan chocolate peanut butter truffles for dinner. —Safely preserved from my bedroom chocolate stash.

Now the Ambien is kicking in— or perhaps my stomach is simply upset that it didn’t receive what most people would consider a proper meal, I feel a little nauseous.

Or perhaps it’s still the lingering sausagey smell!!! I’m sure the two dogs take pleasure in that, at least. I’m sure their dinners were stopped with a little pinch of shredded sausage. Cupboard love.

Either way, something has me feeling woozy, so I’m going to skedaddle and attempt some sleep!!

Please show me some love here. It genuinely means the world. Peace and love!

Until next time…