Sorry for not posting last week. Lately I’ve been feeling like a chicken with its head cut off. Constantly rushing from place to place, constantly being late for things. Attempts made to complain to ‘adults’ always result in them telling me, “Oh trust me, it’s way worse with kids.” so I guess at least I have that to look forward to.
I have to be honest with you.
I’m far less interesting now that I’m basically off alcohol. I tried to keep up my charade the first few months of 2017, telling myself that this is all so temporary and I’ll get my psoriasis under control and I can go back to my happy hour cocktails and beers once again. I’m still hip. I’m still funny. I can still go out and socialize.
For the past decade, alcohol had been my go to socialization primer*. I imbibed in it often enough to tell myself I’m not really introverted after all, I’m just a mild extrovert. (Sure seems like it when you drink every night.) Without alcohol, I struggle to get most thoughts out of my head. With alcohol, there’s no gap in response time or hesitation, whatever I want to say I can say without any issues.
I’m flattered that people willingly come here to read about my neurosis. This blog started as a documentation of my ‘decluttering journey’ because I wanted to hop aboard the minimalism trend, but it ended up becoming a place where I dump details about my life I otherwise have no outlet for.
To commemorate this joyous occasion of
tricking 50 wonderful followers. Here are some facts about me that you may not know.
(I really do appreciate you for reading.)
I follow a lot of cute girls on Instagram. Not intentionally, but what else is on Instagram aside from cute cats and cute girls? While following too many fashion bloggers and amateur models can give me a sense of ‘fomo’ (especially a weekend after a festival that EVERYONE and their dogs went to), in general I try to keep the perspective that what’s in a photo is what someone wants to show of themselves, not how they actually are.
I turned 27 yesterday! To celebrate, here are the top 26 most memorable things I did while I was 26.
I try to bring up my eating disorder as little as possible. To me, bringing up my ED is equivalent to telling people about a giant zit I had last week. It’s awkward, it’s embarrassing, and honestly, it’s kinda pointless – that zit is gone already, so what’s the point of bringing it up?
As time goes by, I’ve managed to convince myself that it really wasn’t a big deal. It was just a part of ‘growing up’. I don’t have a problem with eating anymore. I like working out and going to the gym. Food and weight maintenance is easy for me. On the daily, people tell me, “You’re so skinny.” “How are you so tiny?” And the more I believe what other people tell me, the more I worry that I’m selling a lie.
I don’t want to bury or minimize my ED, just as how I don’t want it to define me. This week is NEDA – national eating disorder month. This story is for all those who may not know this about me, but more importantly, it’s a reminder to myself – that a long time ago, it was really fucking hard.