Catchup.com – uh, November?

Helloooo, blog land! And by that I mean, helloooo Mom (thanks for reading!). I had planned to do Blog-Tober, where I post every day. Then I was all “well, I’ll do Blog-Vember, since I missed Blog-Tober.” And then, I did nothing.

For the first time since I started carving out this little corner of the internet, I let an entire month go by without a single post. I know you’re all feeling the pained sadness that comes with the dearth of my sparkling wit, my poignant and thoughtful social commentary, and my profound and seemingly endless well of wisdom. But, wait no more, my preciouses. I’m hear to fill you in on what’s been happening at Camp AudPodge.

And that’s basically almost nothing.

Mid-October to pretty much yesterday was spent doing the following:

  • helping one of my best good Sydney pals prep for her big move to Queensland
  • moping after said best good Sydney pal did move
  • re-watching all of Mad Men
  • moping after some bad times for family and friends
  • mystery virus that zapped every ounce of energy from me for 3 weeks
  • not writing
  • not reading
  • riding a fucking delightful wave of hormones, thanks to birth control weaning
  • playing the same level on Super Mario Brothers for a week straight
  • re-watching all of Dance Moms
  • spending a lot of time taking photos of my cat

Only Mildly Depressed.com: Sometimes, it’s been a few days and you’re just more tired than you’ve ever been. And sometimes you realise there’s just a lot of shit stacking up on you, near you, around you, and you aren’t sorting through what’s important and what’s not important very well anymore, so you just stop sorting through it all and stare at the piles with so many feelings of overwhelmment fux-ulation (my very own made up feeling) that you just stop sorting through anything.

There was this article on Thought Catalogue that discussed self care and how it’s not just taking a sea salt scrub in a luxurious bubble bath while watching Netflix and eating brownies. Self-care should be more about daily maintenance, the little things we neglect when we’re just trying to get shit done. Like, keeping track of your budget so you know how much money you’re spending. Running the dishwasher before you go to bed so you have dishes for the next day. Getting off the couch for 30 mins a day. Saying no or asking for help when you’re tapped out. Doing your laundry once a week so it doesn’t pile up. Taking a shower. Not calling 2 coffees and 8 Lindor Chocolate Truffles lunch. When I go through a depressive stage, my daily maintenance goes out the window. And that’s what’s happened. In fact the only thing I kept up with was laundry, and that’s because I wear my favourite pairs underwear first and all the pairs are in the hamper by the end of the week and sometimes you just need to wear your goddamn favourite underpants and nothing else will suffice and NO ONE can stop you from making this a much bigger deal than it actually is.

So, I took a mental health day from work, and spent a 3 day weekend with my Get Your Shit Together Book getting my shit together. I caught up with my budget and habit trackers and shit. I started seeing my counsellor again. I got a recommendation for a licensed clinical psychologist and I’ll start seeing them in January. I have a meeting with the nutritionist at work this week, and she’s going to help me organise grocery shopping and meal planning like a real adult (no more chocolate lunches) and help me organise  pilates/barre/weight lifting classes. I wrote a whole page last week, after 25+ days of zilch. Last week was much sunnier than the past 6 weeks have been, so I’m hoping shit is on an upswing.

Humble brag time: I’m patting myself on the back, because if I’ve only achieved one thing this year, it’s getting better at intervening with myself when I’m in a downed out place. My depressive episodes are becoming shorter, because (lightbulb) reaching out for help, helps. It’s taken years to get to the point where within a couple weeks I can admit “I’m sad and overwhelmed, and I need help.” I’ll keep working on it, and with any hope I’ll be able to work it into a few weeks to a few days. So keep this in mind guys: Don’t lose hope. Help is just like AA, it works if you work it.

So yes, riveting. But in my slothness I did manage to maintain a very small semblance of a social life, do some driving, spend every single dollar I earned, and knock off some superficial and financially unnecessary totally important projects. Oh, and Joel made Thanksgiving. Oh, and we put up the tree. And did I mention that one page I wrote? Good things.

And here are some pics:

Bed makeover.com: We decided to invest some money in our bed, ie. buy good quality, breathable sheets and blankets for summer, and pillows and mattress toppers that won’t destroy our spines, hips, knees. This makes my life, because (as abundantly documented here) there’s not much I love more than buying new bedding.

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Before: hot mess express
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too much money a sound investment
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Heck yeah, egg crate foam mattress topper topped with pillow/microbead mattress topper (we can’t afford a new mattress because if we’re going to buy a new mattress, we’re going to get a Queen size which means a new bed frame and more new bedding and a bigger apartment, which means $$$$$$$, so now we’re just working with what we have. And two toppers = hella comfortable)
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After: heaven pile of 100% linen bedding and new pillows and cushions (including a memory foam side sleeper (A+)

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I also got sick and tired of not having a night stand with drawers, so I picked up some new night stands that look like they were taken off the set of Mad Men, and make the room look cleaner. I underestimated how heavy the night stands would be (the boxes they came in looked small), so I ended up needing to take a cab from the store that’s a 10 minute walk away from the apartment. Whoops.

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Et voila!

Operation: Make the bedroom a better place is slowly coming together. The bed is incredibly cozy, and I never want to leave it. We had to take the doona (or comforter) out of the duvet cover because it’s summer and TOO DAMN HOT, but once winter comes around things will be fluffy again.

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Pancake approved.

SNES Classic.com

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What was supposed to be a casual browse through EB Games ended up being a trip to my childhood and being reunited with the last video game console I was mildly good at. It comes with 21 pre-installed games! Joel kicked my ass royally at Mario Kart (I fucking hate Mario Kart), we were evenly matched at Street Fighter, and I get stuck on the same Super Mario levels I did when I was 9. I got calluses on my thumbs the first weekend we had it. It’s the greatest.

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Holy Throwback, Batman

Pancake Continues to be Adorable Little Bear-Cat.com

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dat faaaace

Eating Good Shit.com

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Brown sugar baked pork chops baked with apples, onions, and spicy brussels sprouts. Served on cous cous. +10
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Best Brunch Buddy
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cocktails + recliner chairs + free popcorn + AC + awesome movie = best Sunday
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Yakisoba!
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Homemade Coffee Cake: Tasted better than it looked, promise!
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I went to brunch with Casey and only ordered sides. It was everything I wanted it to be.
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Joel is a chicken crumb master. I can’t even. I want to eat this everyday. 
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Another one, because this is one of my favourite meals of the year.
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As you can see, I heart brunch as much as I heart my friends who also heart brunch. Also revamped love for poached eggs on avocado toast. #millenialeating

Seriously Pancake is so damn cute.com

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sun baked fluff pile

Getting My Shit Together.com

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New  planners = new lease on life

Things I Love.com

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Saturdays with Pancake
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Favourites ❤
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Early summer is the prettiest

I’m Not Kidding Pancake is Stupid Cute.com: She’s coming around to us a lot more since we found a brand of canned cat food she likes, and since we let her drink from the running bath tap more often. Apparently the way to her heart is through her stomach.

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Just sleeping with her head lightly resting on her paws. Stahhhhhp

I Wrote A Whole Page.com Slow and steady wins the race. Slow and steady as a glacier moving through frozen water wins the race. I can do it. More on my writing struggles and how I publicly gave myself a deadline of one year to finish my book in a later post.

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But I wrote a whole page!

Thanksgiving.com In true Audrey style, I remembered Thanksgiving the day before. I started to plan a quick little dinner, when Joel told me not to worry about it. The next day, he planned dinner, cleaned the apartment, bought groceries to make said dinner, started to prepare it, and then I unexpectedly had to stay late at work. And then he unexpectedly got called into work, and had to work late. So we put our dinner plans on hold for the next night.

When I got home from work, the apartment was sparkling and Joel had made a stupid cute Thanksgiving card for me. Staaaaaahp!

The next night we had a lemon and herb roast chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, homemade gravy, and American Style Green Bean Casserole (he spent quite a time hunting down all the Australian equivalent ingredients, only to realise my mom had sent them to us back in May. whoops!). Everything was beyond delicious, and I love him for taking the time and effort to make Thanksgiving special. He’s the best.

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My 2/3 scratch pie, and Joel’s sweet card. I made the filling from scratch (what a process!) but the crust and whipped cream were store bought. Next time I go full-from-scratchness.
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You can’t see because they’re out of focus, but those potatoes are drowning in butter (love)
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carving the roast beast
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food coma

When Joel opened the can of cream of mushroom soup, Pancake freaked out and thought we were opening canned cat food. It was then that we had the crushing realization that we forgot to give her Thanksgiving. WTF! So we fed her little pieces of chicken and it seemed to make up for it.

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also food coma
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Thankful for pie. And my totes profesh whipped cream decorating skillz

Things I Love.com

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It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.com Every year, our tree gets better. And I’m really loving our tree this year, guys.

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How to Keep Your Cat From Eating the Base of Your Christmas Tree
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Mench on a Bench (missing his bench)
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Pancake wasn’t into the whole tree thing.

DRIVING BY MYSELF.com I made the 15 minute journey to my local Ikea and back, and parallel parked, all by myself and I didn’t have a panic attack. I am very excited.

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I did it! All by myself.

Things I Really Love.com I love Joel. Having an understanding, supportive, and caring partner who makes you belly laugh and pushes you to be a better person and who brings you coffee in the morning is the best thing in the world. 1,000 pairs of sweatpants on a 1,000 couches with 1,000 favourite snacks in front of a 1,000 of my favourite movies couldn’t come close to making me as happy as you do. Thank you.

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❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

 

Annnnd you’re all caught up. Right in time for the end of the year post. WHERE THE HELL DID 2017 GO?!

xo,
Auds

My bed, my choice

Last September — no, it goes farther back than that.

Back in October 2015, I got a slightly better paying job, which meant I finally had the extra scratch to re-do our bed linens: new sheets, new pillows, new mattress pad, new duvet cover, and it was basically the best day of my life. Continue reading “My bed, my choice”

Surgery and Recovery

I went in for surgery on Thursday, for my (hopefully one and only) laparoscopy (and hysteroscopy, excision of endometrial tissue and pap smear – I had to confirm my procedures and allergies with 8 different nurses – Aussies are nothing but careful). Continue reading “Surgery and Recovery”

Twinkies (or, Notes on Inadequacy)

I showed up to my writer’s group tonight and couldn’t wait to share how productive I was last week – an outline! Research! Narrative! Character design! I AM PRODUCTIVE! Continue reading “Twinkies (or, Notes on Inadequacy)”

Hodge Podge – Wednesday

We had a hot one today, folks – so hot that I went to work simply so I could have air conditioning (that’s serious) even though I really wanted to stay home and smother myself in aloe (my sunburn still really, really hurts). Continue reading “Hodge Podge – Wednesday”

Back at it

And lo, it was a beautiful month of no work and very little responsibility, but my time as a housewife finally came to an end. Woe is me.

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Home is where the sweatpants are.

I wish it could have lasted longer, but them’s the bricks sometimes. And having any time off at all is nothing to piss and moan about. And I can’t adequately put into words how close I was to losing every ounce of my rapidly fraying shit, so I’m so thankful I got the break I did, and that I was able to find something new pretty quick.

And last Monday, I started a new gig. And last Sunday night, I wrote in my journal a list of habits I started during my time off that I was going to keep up now that I was working again – because I felt really positive and charged after my mental health break, and even though I was nervous about starting a new job, I felt good about keeping up this Awesome Person I was tricking myself into being.

What I had planned to keep going: 20 minutes of free writing every day, hand journaling at the end of every night, 2 blogs, go to a new writer’s group, read my book on the way to work, keep the apartment clean, and no  watching trash tv.

What actually happened: radio silence. No writing, no journaling, no blogs, blew off writer’s group and felt insanely guilty, read Facebook on the way to work, destroying every square surface of the apartment and blanketing the bedroom floor with all the shoes and all the clothes both clean and dirty, watching all the trash TV and crying at everything.

Alright, so I might not have been as productive as I thought I would be. I might have come home almost every night and taken a nap before getting out of my work clothes. And I might have woken up early to watch TV and convince myself to get dressed. And I might have come home one day in tears wondering if I’d made a horrible mistake and if I’d ever be happy again. And I might have had bad dreams and terrible sleep nearly every single night. And I might have left a bag full of sensitive information and my passport ON THE BUS and it might be lost forever, and I might have thrown an internal tantrum and watched Bojack the Horseman all night in silence while wrapped in a blanket. These things might have happened.

SO YEAH. I’m doing really well. That whole “I expect too much of myself and I should give myself reasonable goals” wave of clarity I had receded waaaay far back into the horizon, and I’m giving myself a fat face palm.

To my credit though, I did manage to shower almost every day. AND today I forced myself out of the house and out to a cafe where I did write the intro to the story I’m starting (without the help of my notes, which were written down in the awesome Action Book that was also in the bag of shit I left on the bus. UGH) – which is something I didn’t see coming, and something that gives me hope for the coming week. And I managed to deep clean the apartment while running in and out a PMS fueled festival of hormones and terror (and baked cookies – yum)

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Otameal chocolate chip cookies made in messy tiny kitches 4eva

SO YEAH – bring it on this week. I have cookies and ice cream and an urge to write.

 

**ps. Bojack Horseman is the best show I’ve seen since Arrested Development. It’s goddamn brilliant.

 

to do, to do, to do

To-do lists? Fuck yeah. I love making a to-do list and scratching off items. It’s fantastic because I get to be all YES I AM THE MOST PRODUCTIVE PERSON EVER and it makes me feel like I’ve made the most of my day and consequently, my life.

But when I haven’t finished everything on my to-do list because I got distracted Googling Jenelle Evan’s latest pregnancy (confirmed via police report!) or by something else equally important I feel twice as worse, 1) because I didn’t finish the list and 2) because I didn’t make the most out of my rapidly slipping time.

Making the most of my time. Time. You bitch goddess. When I’m sitting at my desk trying to make it through a day so painfully bad that I’d skin puppies alive just to go home, the clock almost moves backwards. When I’m at home and it’s raining and we’re just lounging and having a good time, it’s goes from 11 AM to 8 PM in the blink of an eye. The relativity kills me, because I’m obsessed with the idea of making the most of my time, trying to live each day to its fullest, trying to live each day in a way I would be proud to look back on.

Notice how I said “obsessed with the idea of” because I definitely don’t practice it. Well, I mean, I don’t practice it in the way that would typically mean “living life to its fullest.” I’m not out sky diving or skinny dipping in shark nets or travelling the world or exploring every knook and cranny of my new country. I’m sitting on the couch with Joel eating an amazing dinner and watching a great movie. I’m hitting publish on a blog I’m particularly proud of. I’m thinking of projects I would love to do one day. I’m making crafts or plotting re-decorating strategies. I’m meeting friends for dinner and then coming home at 11 PM to sweat pants and bad TV. I’m obsessively cleaning or re-arranging. I’m looking up animal videos and comics on the internet. It’s not sexy and it’s not glamorous, and most of the time doesn’t even add up to good blog material, but it makes me happy.

But it’s this constant battle of “I’m totally happy – but since I’m not doing more, I don’t feel like I should be happy.” Because regardless of how you define living life to its fullest, happiness is the end goal. Yep, I’m a pretty lame home body who enjoys an occasional adventure or weekend night of too many glasses of wine. I want to do that stuff and I want to write. That’s basically all I want to do, what makes me happy. If, at the end of the day, I can say I accomplished something, I feel like I’ve made good use of my time. And when I can look back and I don’t hate myself, I feel like I’m making good use of my time, and living life to its fullest. Double whammy.

That being said, I’m on the fence of how efficiently I’ve spent my time off. I made the mistake of falling off the deep end with my goals and decided I would read 3 books and write 2 stories and 14 blogs and attend 5 meet up events, keep the damned table cleaned off every single day, completely rid myself of every bad habit ever and get myself on a schedule that includes daily writing, posting, and washing my face 2x a day, deep clean every square inch of our apartment, make a quilt, and catch up on seasons 5 and 6 of Downtown Abbey.

While I didn’t completely rid myself of every bad habit ever, I did wake up at 7 AM almost every day. And I didn’t get myself on a schedule, but I found work, read most of a book, started free writing again, stayed on top of the laundry and dishes, found a writing group and a book chat club, had two hair appointments, re-organised my closet and our desk, had phone chats and skypes with my nearest and dearest, made an earrings board, did lots of grocery shopping, made lots of meals, deconstructed a dress for it’s fabric, and I’ve taken like 5 bubble baths.

But because those few boxes are left unchecked, I feel like this has been a wasted opportunity. Forget that I actually decompressed and had a lot of “ah-ha!” moments and some hard talks with myself and some good journaling time and got lots of inspiration and the re-charge that I desperately needed, because I didn’t come out of this holiday a well-read, published author with 100 adventures documented and a finished quilt and a completely clean house, I feel like a failure.

You know what though, fuck it. I started writing this entry yesterday, and today, I don’t feel like a failure. I take it all back. This has been a great, much needed resting period. I’ve gotten a lot of my shit together. I may not have accomplished as much as I expected, I did accomplish. And I don’t hate myself over it. Just because I didn’t do everything doesn’t mean I won’t ever have the chance to do it another time. The hardest part of getting out of this depressive stint is not beating the shit out of myself when I don’t perform as well as I want to, as well as I expect myself to. I really wish there was a way to pause my notion of “expectations” until I feel like I’m capable of meeting them, but them’s the bricks. And in the mean time, I’ll just have to try and manage those expectations as well as I can.

And we get to have burgers and ribs for dinner last night because Joel is awesome.

 

And as of this morning, I finished that book I thought I would have finished last week. Sheeeeit. Time well spent.

Very Important News: I have new hair.

In the mess that has been my life these past few months, I’ve really needed a hair cut. Like, really needed one. Physically and emotionally. I mean, I’ve been in a dark, depressed place, but my hair has felt 10x worse.

I love going to the salon. My mom says she took me to get my hair cut by a professional when I was about 7, and she was never able to cut my hair at home after. I looked forward to getting my hair cut the way most kids look forward to Christmas. And I’ve changed colours and styles at least 3x a year since I turned 17 and got bleached out streaks for the first time. My mom had told me I couldn’t do anything permanent to my hair until I turned 18, but I was 3 weeks away from turning 18 and on a vacation with my friends, so I did the most rebellious thing I could think of (and my mom only spent one week not talking to me as a result)

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sooooooo rebel.

So to go 18 months without stepping foot in a salon, and not thinking about hair dye since October was very strange for me.  I had a multi-coloured, grey speckled, shaggy mess, mostly because I couldn’t get the energy, time, or shekels together to get something done. But, I decided last week that my new chapter needs new hair. But I didn’t know where to go.

Trying to find a stylist always fills me with anxiety. When I was in the States, I had a girl named Katelyn who could read my mind when it came to my hair, and talk all things Teen Mom with me. I met her soon after I moved out my ex’s place and back in with my parents. She was a tiny, perky ex-cheerleader with a love for make up and leopard print, and we bonded instantly. Over the next two years we saw each other through battles with depression, moving, relationships, and finally finding our soul mates. Countless highlights, 2 ombres, bangs, growing out my bangs, lobs, trims, brunette, auburn, blonde, and the absolute best red with blonde highlights I’ve ever had, Katelyn is a badass.

When I moved, I knew I was leaving behind my safety blanket – my hair girl. But since I was moving to a city, I thought finding an awesome salon would be a piece of cake. However, the first person who cut my hair in Sydney cut it two inches too short, and traumatised me. Plus that salon was in North Sydney and I didn’t want to take the train. So I Googled salons near me, and I found a place right down the road from me that had over 30 five-star reviews (Stanley & C0). Mostly I was excited that it was a two minute walk away and had a legit website. I made an appointment and spent the next few days worrying.

I make no bones about how vain and shallow I am – not only do I have a blog about me, I take an inappropriate amount of selfies, and I can’t pass a reflective surface without checking myself out. It’s just who I am (#leo). And I think the too-short, too-dark hair cut I got last May really threw me out of whack and probably contributed more to my year of discontent than I actually acknowledge. So I was incredibly nervous.

But all’s well that ends well, and I really lucked out. The colourist I worked with was hilarious and super cool, and the owner who cut my hair was ridiculously detail oriented. I felt like I was getting my hair cut by a surgeon. It’s turned out to be one of the best hair cuts I’ve ever had, as it basically styles itself. And it looks good straight or “I haven’t brushed it in three days” (which is my entire hair styling skill spectrum).

There was a mis-communication about the colouring, and by Monday I realised I didn’t exactly get what I wanted. I wrestled for a while about whether I should call and ask for a re-do, because it felt like sending food back – when you send food back, you don’t order anything else because it’s guaranteed to have spit in it. I didn’t want anyone to spit in my hair. I even considered just saying Fuck It and going some place else. But, I remembered that New Me is honest and stands up for herself, so I called and politely asked for another appointment.

It took a week to get back in there, and even though the owner was understanding and cool, it was still a week of omg they hate me they will make my hair even worse because I complained and I’ll still have to pay for it all over again and I’ll hate myself and shame eat an entire pizza by myself while watching Dance Moms. 

Buuuuut, once again, all’s well that ends well. I worked with the same colourist, and everyone was just as nice and awesome as they were the first time I came in. My colour came out exactly as I wanted it, and they did it for free.

I was pretty jazzed about the whole thing.

Before:

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Note the peeking grey, the casual fade from ash to burgundy to auburn to gold to shaggy split end mess. Also recurring adult acne because I have all the luck.

During:

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Great cut, but the blonde was too subtle, and too dark. Also after these photos I realise I need to invest in some lipsticks. 

After:

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What my hair looks like after half an hour of curling and careful dishevelling and lots of product. I.e. I will never achieve this look at home.

 

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Blonde highlights and a subtle ombre to tie in all the different colours. I skipped doing an all over colour because I didn’t want to murder my hair.
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I also call all of these photos the “Audrey Hearts Cardigans and T-Shirts” series. 

 

I love it. I feel like I’m a new person. I can’t remember the pretentious kale muncher who wrote that article I read when I was 22 about hair holding in bad energy, but I actually buy into it. It feels like I cut off all the old, bad hair and all the bad memories of the last year or so. I looked in the mirror after the stylist was done and I wanted to cry. I think it all comes back to feeling like yourself, and my hair feels like me again. I’ve spent so long not feeling like myself, and trying to be someone I’m not. It’s taken a verrrry long time and a year of stalled out confusion, but I’m really starting to understand what I really want and need from myself. With a new hair cut and a major closet overhaul (coming soon to a blog near you) Vain and Shallow Audrey is appeased. Now I’m ready to do this. 

Also my greys are mixed in with blonde so “you can’t make an educated guess about my age.” which is pretty good. Also also, I found a salon that feels like home (I gave bear hugs to the girls and was near tears when I left). I had such a happy and positive experience, and that in itself was worth every penny.

H+M – the Agony and the Ecstasy

Hello, my name is Audrey, and I am an H+M addict.

2003: I was 18. I was a seasoned mallrat, and I had a circuit of all my favourite haunts. But this day, I was with my sister when we spotted a new store – H+M. It was so white – white tiles, white walls, bright lighting, soft music, no posters and adverts – absolutely nothing flashy. It stood in direct defiance to the darkly painted, heavily decorated, loud and colourful sale posters, and blaring music of the stores around it. In fact – it looked like a cheap department store. Except for the clothes – which when compared to my wardrobe of Deliah’s, Pacific Sunwear, and Forever21, were basically the coolest clothes I had ever seen. AND they were cheap – $14.99 for a hoodie, not $39.99? Retro designed tops with vintage reprinted fabric for $18.99? Dresses for $24? WHERE AM I?

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Circa 2003: Me with the very first top I bought at H+M (also me with my parents)

There were clothes everywhere in the shop – all over the walls, on racks all over the floor, just everywhere – all arranged by colour. It was overwhelming and so exciting all at the same time. I’m pretty sure it took me close to two hours to make it all the way through the shop, and I left from that first trip with about $150 worth of clothes. And lo, I had a new favourite place to shop.

2004: I was 19, and I applied for my first credit card – in an attempt to start building my credit history. I was an unemployed college student and I received a brand spankin’ new platinum Master Card with a $3,000 limit.

“I will spend a little bit, once a month, and immediately pay it off. Otherwise, this is for emergencies only.”

Also known as, my most infamous last words.

Over the next three years, my depression spiked, and coincidentally, so did my shopping habits. And H+M became my go-to place of solace. Since what little paycheck I had went to school, my car, going to the movies, and travel expenses, I rarely had money for spending on myself. So I used my credit card. I mean, why pay for something immediately when I can pay for it over the course of 6 years – with exorbitantly high interest rates? And yes, I could make “He didn’t call me tonight – he never calls me so I shouldn’t be surprised but I’m still disappointed” into a use the credit card emergency.

My closet (and dresser, and floor), were littered with H+M goods – most of them with the tags still attached. It got to the point where my friends stopped going in with me, because they didn’t want to support my “problem.” I knew I wasn’t making the best choices, and that I didn’t need that many clothes, and that I wasn’t even wearing half of them, and that I wouldn’t get around to returning them, and that I was sublimating my depression for shopping, but damn I had some cool clothes and that’s really all that mattered – right?

2006: I was 21, and I was on the phone with someone from my credit card company. I was getting the news that I ran my credit card up and over it’s limit – and that I now owed a $667.86 payment in order to bring it back to order. My final balance was $10,667.86. Just on that card. I had 2 others that added up to about $1,200.00. Nearly $11k in credit card debt. I hung up my phone and crawled into fetal position, where I stayed for the next 10 years.

It took about 4 years for me to pay all the cards off. And another 3ish years to pay off my emergency card when I ran THAT one up again. And again.

Somewhere in that time, I revoked ALL my H+M privileges. I knew what I was – an addict. As an alcoholic can’t be around booze, and opiate addicts have to take Tylenol when they break a bone, I can’t walk into an H+M without wanting, needing, to buy everything. It was a crazy, gnawing, almost physically painful obsessive feeling, this need to purchase something and take it home with me. So I just cut it out of my life – cold turkey.

I had 3 years of H+M sobriety, and I felt really good about it. I could walk past an H+M without immediately diving in. If I did go inside, I browsed through the racks without the obsessive feelings, and I tried things on and didn’t buy them. But if I did buy something, it was something I needed, and I never put it on my credit card. If there was a chip for H+M Sobriety, I would totally have it.

Today though – today was a different story. I was out with Joel’s mum for a girl’s afternoon, and I finally got the chance to wander around the new 3 story H+M at the Pitt Street Mall. She mentioned that she wanted to buy me a couple of things for my birthday since we were here, and she was going to get me a voucher anyway. And I instantly thought I CAN BUY STUFF HERE.

uh-oh.

I had the urge to GET IT ALL, I NEED IT, JUST LOAD IT INTO MY BAGS. After 2 hours, I had at least 40 items to try on, delirious with the end of year sale items and all mustard gold coloured things and all the $15 high-waisted super stretch pants (omg did I really just put that on the internet). In my delirium, everything fit like a dream and I saw infinite outfit combinations with everything I already owned and oh I can patch that up and I can lose some weight to fit into this dress better. All I needed was a bubble bath full of foam and I would have reached Alex at the end of A Clockwork Orange levels of euphoria. 

I was plotting ways to afford my bounty when caught myself thinking “Well, I could just put it on my credit card and pay it off slow–” and that’s when I crashed. I looked around and just felt ashamed. Yes, I need some professional clothes that fit, but I didn’t need all of this. And I sure as hell didn’t need to put it ANY of it on my credit card. Sadly, the delirium cleared. I had a stack of clothes that wouldn’t match anything I already owned – besides jeans. I had colours that I never wear once I buy them. And when have I ever lost weight just to fit into a dress I bought 2 sizes too small because it was the only size available? And these pants definitely give me camel toe. The dream burst, and the hangover was intense. I cherry picked the best items, what would fit in with the clothes I already had, what I could see myself wearing in the future, and most importantly – what I could afford. I did buy a $7 dress that was way too short for me JUST because, but everything else was amazingly practical.

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ok, I also got this pillbox cat ear hat. But it’s already brought both of us $10 worth of kitty-hat happiness, so money well spent. 

My heart was breaking as I stood in line to pay for my stuff, and I could hear myself saying “go get those flannel button downs!! You can afford it! This time you won’t throw them out at the beginning of summer!” All the lingering “what if’s” and “but only’s” were painful. We left the store with my bag, and I realised that was my very last H+M trip. I can’t go back.

It goes to show – an addict can’t do a little bit of heroin. And I can’t do a little bit of H+M.

Next on the goal block: STOP BUYING ALL THE CLOTHES.