That’s right, it means pj’s on by 7, eating cake and watching shit on tv – I could never be accused of not knowing how to live it up!
I am actually starting to believe that I have become part nun. Not entirely intentionally.
Before this Christmas it had been about 6 years since my last alcoholic drink. Seriously, I had a bad experience and it put me off for a while… But this Christmas I made up for it by downing copious amounts of egg nog and Buck’s Fizz (none of your rose or prosecco for this classy gal!).
Since Christmas, not a drop has passed my lips. Maybe it’s because the baby never sleeps, and so I am subconsciously hyper aware that I might be needed in the wee small hours and don’t want to deal with it half cut, maybe it’s because it costs a fucking fortune to drink nowadays (when I was a bar maid a pint costs £1.20 and an alcopop was like 90p, it was so easy to be a cheap date back then!). Either way, I am back to my alcoholically celibate state.
Then there’s the incredible outfits that I choose to wear each day. Today’s ensemble, or #ootd as it would be tagged on Insta (getting down with the kids) consisted of a pair of jeans which are too big and have four holes I them, none of them are meant to be there and two of them are in rather dodgy positions. I complimented this look with an off-White (aka dyed grey in the wash) vest with hole in the bottom and a sparkly jumper that would make a Christmas tree jealous, and oh yes, that also has a hole, right in the armpit, great for those days when you have forgotten to shave your armpits. So as you can imagine, I looked frickin’awesome…. But that’s the thing, I really really don’t give a shit how I dress, and I really should. I wouldn’t dream of dressing my kids in clothes with holes, or that had lost their colour – they would be binned or moved to the “good enough for pj’s if there’s no chance anyone will visit” drawer.
It’s not that I don’t want to look nice, I really do, if someone went out and kitted out my wardrobe for me I would probably wear some of it, I just have no “need” to buy myself clothes when I know the kids could do with some, or I see something cute for them. And so I wear the same thing every three days, in rotation, sometimes I switch it up – you know, to keep things interesting,. A change is as good as a closet from Jack Wills and all that…
But probably my biggest fall into nun-dom is in the shape of my complete hermit status. I actually cannot remember the last time I went out. Honestly, it has been that long. In fact I think that even nuns probably have more of a social life than me! I am talking about a night out, with my hubby or the girls, not a trip to Asda with all 3 kids in tow. (God, don’t you just love those trips??).
And so I am sat here on a Friday evening checking out good old Facebook to see what everyone else is up to (nothing like a bit of Facebook stalking to make you feel so much better about your own life…!). And do you know what, I realise that I honestly don’t care. I don’t need nights out, if I did I could get off my own arse and organise something, not wait for others. I don’t need new clothes, mainly due to the whole “no nights out” thing but also because I feel no material need for things for myself, I don’t need alcohol…. Alright occasionally I need alcohol but not on a regular basis, yet!
I am all good, I am happy sat here in my pj’s, writing a blog post that might or might not be read, waiting (over an hour) for my husband to make tea, because it is his turn, and watching box sets of seriously addictive shows. That’s my life, it’s what I chose – not what I ended up with. And when all the Friday nighters are waiting for taxi’s in their similar states of undress in the freezing cold, I will be snuggled up on the sofa watching the final episode of The Walking Dead, happy in the knowledge that I will wake up tomorrow morning clear headed and not completely skint. And that sounds pretty good to me!
Mrs X xoxo