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One year older, still feeling sorry for myself

On Monday I turned 29. I won't lie to you it was a pretty glamorous birthday and I did have a brief moment of thinking so this is what getting older is about. Beautiful blue sea, a boat trip, unlimited wine, hot boys chatting to us. It was a dream.

I am paying for those life choices now. I was in Malta on my birthday after going to Lost & Found festival. If I've taken one thing from the whole experience it is that I am too fucking old for these kind of holidays. I couldn't cope with sharing my space with loads of girls, I am basically crippled with illness because a week of partying has shot my fragile immune system to pieces and I got described as an 'older woman' on more than one occasion. I know you too will be shocked by that last statement, as someone who has regularly been told I look 24 (by other men also trying to get in my pants) I was appalled.

I'm meant to be celebrating my birthday a second time this Saturday (I never have just one birthday celebration, I love being centre of attention too much) but right now I am in bed struggling to breathe. I have a chronic cough and a cold which has probably been made worse by my refusal to stop and relax.

I recently started a new job and I LOVE it, when I came back after my holiday there was loads of work for me and it was all really exciting. Despite knowing I should stay at home (and I probably would have when I worked in a hospital as I know coughing spreads germs super quickly) I've been dragging myself into work, into meetings, staying late and generally wandering around spluttering but insisting I'm fine. Today I had to leave a meeting to throw up in a toilet because my coughing was so bad. Honestly you'd think I'd have learnt by this age to let my body heal.

Just to add to my woes I have fallen madly, deeply in love with a man who I am 99% sure barely realises I'm a girl let alone has any romantic feelings for me. I met him on a night out and just assume we were in the friend zone then realised I fancied him.

I am just awful at flirting with anyone I'm friends with, if I'm going to flirt it needs to be with someone when I very first meet them. The moment I'm friends with a guy I become terrified that they'll laugh in my face if I express any interest and so I spend a lot of time punching their shoulders and shouting "MATE" at them really loudly so there's no indication. Unsurprisingly they then never come onto me and I become very sad they haven't realised my secret love and seduced me with a bed of rose petals and day trips to the countryside.

To try and lure in my latest love interest I have been mainly...avoiding eye contact, telling him stories about boys I previously dated + my commitment issues and strongly encouraging him to date other girls he's met through Tinder. Pretty sexy, eh? He's not even answering my whatsapps by this point (those double blue ticks are more torture than anything) so I've fucked it basically. I've also quit smoking once again which I think may be contributing to my terrible cough (last time I quit something similar happened) and in no way helps my anxiety about boys.

All in all I am starting 29 as I have begun most of my 20s birth years - chubbier than I would like to be, dying for days from a hangover, trying to quit smoking, single as fuck and feeling like I need lessons in how to adult.



To lighten the mood here's a selfie from my first night at the festival. The photo is long and narrow because I had to crop my thumb out. In it I'm already drunk and covered in stars - they're really craft stars not make up ones because I'm stupid like that. When I removed all the glitter at the end of the night the colour had leached out of the stars onto my forehead covering it in wee star shaped stains.



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