Day 10 dawned bright and most unfashionably early, and I woke up with a blocked nose, a foggy head, and a dry and slightly stinging sensation in my mouth; all of which indicating that my winter cold is bravely marching on.
What a drag, I thought, oblivious to the fact that, in a few moments’ time, my world was going to be rocked to the core.
So… carefully ignoring the fact that it’s been nearly two years since I last wrote on here (and I’m not entirely sure the old ‘sorry baby, I’ve been busy…’ excuse will hold), I want to talk a bit about the slight shittiness that is PCOS.
I work a 9am-6pm job, in an office above a warehouse in West London, with a relatively small group of about half a dozen people. There are also various people who work in the warehouse proper that I deal with from time to time; about 20 or so in total. It’s not a huge number of people, but it’s not like it’s just me and my pot plant sitting by ourselves all the live-long day.
I’ve been extremely nervous about writing this post. The reason being that I love you guys and don’t want to offend any of you. I really don’t.
But I’ve decided that this message is way too important for me to not say it. But be aware that I will be describing symptoms and manifestations of mental illnesses at their worst here, so if you are at all afraid that you might be triggered, either don’t read (I won’t be offended) or send me a message asking if there is anything specifically triggering to you in here, and I will happily answer.
While I was shaving last night, I had my usual slight bout of irritation over the poor quality of my shave. I don’t know if it’s the razors themselves, the soap, or perhaps my technique, but lately I haven’t been able to get the clean shave I desire.
For my Masters dissertation I conducted a series of focus groups, where we discussed the fashion industry and people’s opinion of it. Long story short, I found out a lot of interesting stuff and I’m still hoping to buggery that I passed.