Woe is me for I am poorly and sick.
Yeah, it’s “just a cold”, but I feel like I have my head stuck in a goldfish bowl. I can’t hear, I am weak, feeble, easily confused and I can’t breathe through my nose.
I hate getting colds. A couple of years ago I got a cold in the early Autumn that continued for weeks. I’m asthmatic, and although it hadn’t bothered me for years, this one settled on my chest, exacerbated my asthma and I ended up on steroids, and am now on a lot of different medication to keep it under control. Every time I get a cold now I get incredibly anxious about it happening again as it really knocked me for six. This means that when I do get sick I go through a process of denial, then extreme paranoia and hypochondria before I get better. This particular cold kicked off on Tuesday and in denial mode I confidently predicted I would be fine by Thursday as it was the first Roller Derby practice of the new year. Obviously I wasn’t fine, but I went to practice anyway because I thought that what my team mates probably needed on their first day back was to listen to me whinge, cough and splutter and watch me stuff snotty tissues down my bra.
Today I am still not fine, and I am deep in hypochondria mode, terrified that it will be with me forever and I will be bed-bound. I am still secretly hoping I will be better by tomorrow, as there is more Roller Derby and surely the world doesn’t hate me that much that as well as missing 2 of my scheduled gym sessions this week it also wants me to miss Roller Derby?
Anyway, whilst I am mainlining Lemsips and causing mass deforestation with the amount of tissues I am using the world apparently does not cease to turn. When you are a grown up there is no one else to look after you. This meant that this morning I had to crow bar my snotty self into some clothing and go to the supermarket (mostly to buy more Lemsip, did you know it comes in Honey & Ginger flavour?) and the post office.
I had hoped my first outfit post of 2016 would be something a little more glamorous, but frankly I don’t have the brain power to do anything except post photos of my puffy diseased face in the clothes that I wore to the shops.
This outfit is a prime example of Lazy Girl dressing. Mr Chick even said I looked “funky”.
Regular readers will know that I rarely wear trousers. These Heyday swing trousers might look smart, but only I know the real truth, which is that I was too sick/lazy this morning to even be bothered to find a pair of black opaque tights. The beret hides unwashed and unbrushed hair and the jumper is cosy, now almost 10 years old, and even cosier once I add that big pom-pom scarf.
And that is how I made it to the supermarket and the Post Office without resorting to leaving the house in my pyjamas.
Now I am home I am definitely putting my pyjamas back on and continuing with an aggressive strategy of Lemsips, rest, and Netflix in the hope that I will be less irritating at practice tomorrow.
ā„ Polo Neck – Primark, a long time ago ā„ Trousers – Heyday! ā„
ā„Boots (they’re under there somewhere!) – Hush Puppies ā„ Scarf – French Connection ā„
ā„ Beret – Tiger ā„
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