Self Image, Short Stories

Writers Block

She was feeling sub-optimal.

Like she was peeking through a copse of trees in the woods and observing someone else’s picnic.

And yet she was meant to be one of the guests.

Everything was laid out in front of her. A buffet of opportunities, people and equipment and yet her brain wouldn’t let her put the puzzle together. It didn’t want her to solve her own riddle.

No. Instead it wanted to tell her that she wasn’t good enough. That she didn’t deserve the kind of happiness that came with fluttery first loves and the yellow reflection of a buttercup on your chin.

Her summer nights were becoming winter ones in mere moments. And with the dusty tomes that littered her bookshelves, their stories so much more interesting than hers, her writing that would never compete with these magnum opus’ -she deemed her life worthless

And these thoughts plagued her, like rats gnawing at her lifeless corrupt body believing her to be dead when really she was just comatose.

With the pages of a thousand would-be-could-be novels littering the floor she sat and cried, smudging the ink and scrapping her efforts before she had even started.

She was constantly comparing herself to others and had a habit of turning everything into a competition. If she could just muster up some of that tinker bell fairy dust to fill her with optimism and motivation then the sandstorm of words that were inside of her might one day come tumbling out onto paper.

And that was the day that the half written chapter of her life became finished. It was when she finally looked up at the paper sky, breathed life into a balloon and flew up to cloud nine.

It was there that the girl found an empty notebook and a pen. With these tools she looked down on the blank empty abyss that she had been stuck in for so long and wrote herself out of it. She created a new world of sunshine and bliss with the occasional thrilling twist thrown into prove it to be a riveting roller coaster read.

She sunk into the pages of her new reality, dusting the cobwebs from her lonely corner of her old universe and making it anew.









Self Image

Gym Rat

I watched as the numbers on the treadmill refused to budge. How could a minute feel so much like an hour?

This was just proof of what I had known for a while now. And that was that I had become less and less fit.

When I first moved to university I remember being a lot slimmer. I also remember thinking to myself that being in charge of my own diet would surely be a good thing and meant that I was certain to maintain healthy eating and working out.

Without parents forcing you to do the dishes or eat exactly what they ate, it was sure to be a success- right?

Even as I type that I can tell you that there is half a tub of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food left in my freezer and that I had a pizza for dinner.

I think I have a problem to be quite frank. The problem is this- I am addicted to sugar. I have been for as long as I can remember. However, when you’re living at home it’s a lot easier for these things to be picked up on. But here, in student accommodation it goes right under the radar.

On top of this I am desperately trying to get fit. I feel disgusting. I don’t feel comfortable when I go out in the clothes I wear and am constantly cringing at my body in pictures taken on a night out.

The days now that the summer has commenced and I am in Nottingham for work consist of me waking up late and then lacking in motivation to actually do anything worthwhile.

I remember feeling the backs of my eyes start to burn when me, my boyfriend and my other two friends went on a bike ride to the real estate agents.

It wasn’t because of my hay fever playing up which is what I played it off as but rather because I found myself struggling to keep up with them.

Now, I have never been particularly overweight or a big girl. Instead, my weight has fluctuated as well as my diet. And I’ll be the first to admit that the healthiest I ever was when I was  a vegetarian.

I even quite enjoy working out! I spent an hour at the gym this afternoon doing a 5k run on the treadmill which I am aiming to do everyday. And yet the weight still doesn’t appear to be shifting.

Things are made a bit more complicated when your boyfriend looks as though he was sculpted from marble. I just want to look and feel good but at the moment I am stuck in this vicious circle of working out, getting depressed, eating badly and then drinking.

The point of this little story isn’t to make you feel bad for me and my unhealthy lifestyle. When I started this new blog I told myself I was going to be honest to my readers and that is exactly what I’m doing. So, this isn’t me accepting how I currently feel about myself but rather letting you know that I am determined to get myself out of this slump and power through.