My new, new, new Blog

Hiya! I live in Switzerland now and am writing all about it at www.boredhausfrau.com.
xx Bry

I moved to London

and I've moved my writing over here: Vodka and Chaka Khan

Come in. Sit down. Have a drink.

Cheers!

xx Bry

Riddle

Q: What's better than getting your last pay cheque?

A: Getting your last pay cheque plus an unexpected vacation pay-out. Sweeeet!

Time to partay! Or at least buy that overpriced wrap sweater/shirt from Oqoqo, thus completing my airplane/arriving in London outfit!

But...it's "free"!

When I arrive in London I'll be staying with my sister and her fiancé, but this little arrangement won't last forever and I'll have to find my own place. Just a second ago, I went onto Gumtree.com, just to check out some places and get an idea of monthly rental prices, and this is the first one I clicked on:

Rent free bed share for open-minded friendly, warm female. Tall white hot blooded caring man 36 is offering to share his very comfortable double bed in flat near Docklands everyday.

Wow! The Rent is FREE! And I'm an "open-minded" female! And "warm"! And...wait...what?! It's a "bedshare"?

Huh?

Ohhhh...

Okay, next!

*full ad here

Theme Song for June 2009

Warning: This post contains penises & boobies!

Last weekend I celebrated the gorgeous weather by spending Saturday and Sunday at the beach. Saturday was spent at Wreck. I always have a hard time focusing on my reading material when I’m there. Perhaps this has something to do with the penises? Or the boobies?! Nonetheless, I couldn’t make it through one page of Madam Bovary the entire 4 hours I was there.

Sunday I went to Jericho. And wouldn’t you know it, the people I was meeting chose a beach log right next to a volleyball net where one of my exes was smoking the weed (as per usual when we were together, even though he always whined about being broke, brokety, broke, broke) and hitting some balls (volleyballs, that is). I always imagined running into him after he unceremoniously went MIA with my favorite pair of earrings three years ago. I practiced what I would say. Imagined how I would look. In my fantasies, I always looked amazing, naturally. But I never bumped into him again. Until then…

When I spotted his pasty, scrawny body, just a few meters away from where I was sitting, I was like, “oh, hey, there’s J*el..hmm..okay, so, who wants get my back with lotion?”.

And that was that.

I just wish it didn’t take 3 years to feel so ambivalent.

Just call me Bridget Jones

I know this makes me sound like a huge spazz, but I’m planning on packing my scale. And, before you get all “Bryanna, that’s f*cked!” on me, let me try to explain.

Growing up I was never what you would classify as “skinny”, I did go through a chubby phase, but, in general, my body type was what you might call average. Not skinny, not fat, just average. This isn’t to say that I never desired to be thinner, I’m a girl, of course I did (and do), but my weight was not a big issue growing up. I played sports, my mom cooked healthy dinners and my dad packed me a healthy lunch. I even avoided the dreaded “Freshman 15” when I made the transition from high school to university.

However, I wasn’t so lucky when I made the transition from university to the work force. I gained 20 lbs. Very quickly. I was in denial for the first few months, but when I finally weighed myself, I couldn’t deny it any longer.

I was fat.

To make a long, hard, desperate story short, it took me 1 year, 1 very stressful job, and 2 very unhealthy months of disordered eating to finally lose the weight (25 lbs total). Since then, I have gained 5 lbs, but for over a year, I’ve maintained myself at a “healthy for me” weight. I attribute this to the fact that I keep track of my weight, not daily, but at least once a week. If I’m up one week, I tailor my diet the next week, perhaps cutting out those candies I pilfer from the candy bowl at work. Nothing drastic. It’s simple and it works for me.

One of my fears about moving to London is how the change in lifestyle will affect my body. I will be drinking more and probably moving less. I don’t want to be fat again. It’s a horrible feeling. Both physically and emotionally.

So there you have it. My scale is coming with me. Of course, I could just buy a scale there, but I prefer my weight in pounds not stones.

London Calling

When I first started thinking about the idea of moving to London, I was extremely unhappy. My return from my travels in Asia back in February of 2008 was quickly followed by 2 months of depression. I wouldn’t say it was severe, but it was one of the lowest times in my life. I could hardly get through a morning, day, or night without crying. I was very good at hiding it. Bathroom breaks at work turned into crying breaks and, at night, I mastered the silent sob. I felt completely lost, disconnected, and, to put it plainly, sad.

After my relationship with Sean ended last summer, I decided that running away to London was a fantastic way to move on. Of course, I didn’t have the funds to immediately do so. I figured it would take me a few months to get enough money together to ship out, but my increased cost of living now that I was on my own and my new addiction to SHOES! & SKIRTS! & TOPS! left very little at the end of the month for my “Running Away to London Savings Account”. I kept pushing it back and pushing back, until one evening a few months ago. I was walking along 4th avenue in Kitsilano when I looked up and saw the most beautiful full moon that I had ever seen. The contrast of the turquoise sky gave it a yellowish tone and I literally gasped with delight upon seeing it. It was in that moment that I realized that I needed to make a plan. I rushed home and crunched the numbers. I decided that two more months would be enough. And the next day I filled out a passport renewal form.

***

Three weeks ago I realized that I was happy.

The depression from last spring had long since subsided, and for the first time, in a long time, I was fully aware of my happiness. I felt it in the sun. I felt it in the anonymous faces passing me along the street. I felt it in the cool breeze whipping my hair against my face. I felt it in my heart. I realized that I was no longer running away to London in search of happiness or in an attempt to escape my sadness.

I am happy.

And, now, I’m excited too!