I apologize to my devoted fans (seriously, I have those..) for these frigid, lonely months devoid of the trademark wit and sass spouting from this sliver of the internet.
Big shout out to my father who I recently discovered reads this wholesome and thought-provoking stuff; my face is forever burnt red from that revelation, so I thank you.
I won't even begin to fabricate an excuse for my absence - the list would range from spending numerous hours perfecting the 3:45am peanut butter cookie to organizing tupperware cabinets like the deranged housewife I aspire to be. All vital, and another reminder that I should update my resume with my newfound skill sets.
All in all, winter lethargy hit me hard this year. Instead of optimistic New Year's resolutions and hopeful Valentine's Day plans, I chose to focus on restraining violent thoughts towards everyone dressed in festive-appropriate sequins (amateurs*) and cotton candy pink, respectively.
Although I seem to have wasted the idyllic tundra weather indoors, real concern has begun to set in - nary a bold lip has been painted on my mouth, I haven't properly shaved my legs in two (?) months, and there has been a disturbing rise in my collection of 'casual wear', better known as sweatpants and shirts which afford a no-bra policy. Although it doesn't really resemble spring, we are now uncomfortably close to May, bikini weather in all but current mercury gage.
So this begs the question, what the hell is wrong with me?
My natural reaction to warmer weather resembles that of a small child discovering fructose corn syrup; there is normally an abundance of jumping up and down, a demand for iced beverages from everyone's favourite capitalist mermaid, and the eye-assaulting shift to brights and bare skin, regardless of actual temperate conditions - I am a slave to my own absurdity and cold feet, after all.
I have never been particularly talented with self motivation; all of my life's progress has stemmed from borderline unhealthy spontaneity and slowly becoming my mother. I refuse to let seasonal depression (affectionately coined as SAD, thanks Google!) best me - nobody will be asking 'what happened to that girl?' this year.
So I have half-assed a solution, as always.
I have created a guideline for self imposed bribery in order to function like a semi-adult. This is almost as entertaining as it is effective, so you are dually very welcome. Here is a sample of a few of my personal favourites:
- responding to emails warrants a beverage of choice.
- writing my own email warrants a venti beverage of choice.
- paying credit card bills requires a blindfold and is rewarded with tequila.
- going to the gym deserves one self righteous tweet; sometimes I trade this in for an impromptu nap.
- successfully convincing a guy of my (feigned) sanity equals...I'm still developing and researching this particular endeavour.
- As a monthly bonus for not crying in public in the presence of others - not in a prime composed state, I must admit - I've settled on spa treatments. (Facials for general good behaviour, full body massages if I have also completed a load of laundry.)
To tell a secret, there has also been a development of very real, very serious television series addictions. Not necessarily beneficial in any category, but nevertheless scripted drama keeps me from creating real life theatrics which could prove to end in incarceration if I'm not careful.
I suppose the bearings of daily life require little cheats and small consolation prizes, particularly in the context of a dreary struggle against the weather network app (which never accurately predicts week long forecasts anyways, so whatever). Anything and everything in the name of remaining sane, and I endorse it all.
Hang in there people, I have an inkling the legs will be able to make a skirtly appearance soon enough!
Self tanner kisses,
Nicole xo
*Sequins are vastly underused as a clothing option, and I myself am a huge proponent of daytime usage. They are particularly useful for camouflaging your third bagel run of the day with a certain whimsy and light reflecting distraction.
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