Jeans have shrunk???

My favourite pair of jeans have officially shrunk in the wash, they shrunk! that's my story I'm sticking to it. Even the coat-hanger trick has let me down, so my new motto is: if moisturiser is on, the legs are out, damn the weather. Jeans are well out of date anyway! loose is the new tight and all that...Christ, I may just drown myself in the 8th lousy cup of tea I've made today. It must be the teabags, they don't look like Typhoo therefore they're probably P.G and I don't like P.G at the best of times. Or worse, they might be asda's own blend, lord! I'm usually not snobbish but teabags are teabags, they form the base of British life.

Even Jerome looks rather forlorn, fallen on one side, half buried beneath sheaths of paper and notes.
If he could talk he'd probably say "Don't kid yourself, you've avoided putting those jeans on until every other pair is in the wash box because they've been 'shrunk' a while."
I'm totally denying that.
My bra feels tighter too, can't decide if that's good or bad, probably the latter. I'd like bigger boobs yeah, I'd love the 32 DD to spill into a 34DD or a 32E that's small round the middle but larger in the cup and that's the best way to be, uncommon, but awesome. But with bigger breasts comes bigger everything else, I have a month around about until my birthday, I better crack on with some hard core heart racing fitness every day and then in a month I might have met a goal. If this heat wave that's rumoured actually hits I'll need to feel confident to strip off again or risk dying of overheating!
I'll do it. I promise. I promise myself.

Cat's died. Poem

I looked away a moment,
when I glanced up again you were gone.
You won't move again,
or open your eyes again
you wont look at anything, or anyone
You're dead.

You lie still
you will lie there and decay
Why are we alive?
if only to die?
to lie still and never look at anything again
I'm glad it was a sunny day
I'm glad you saw the sun in your eyes
you saw the sun again before you died.

Cat's died

I hate death, it's so awkward, death naturally leads to cuddles and soft words of it's ok and a pitiful attempt at conveying that love still lives for the living, I hate that sort of thing. I arrived home tonight to discover that the white cat has died. I can't say this has come as a shock as the animal has been getting thinner and scragglier by the day, she was about 17 years old, that's a good run for a cat who's been hit by a car twice and still managed to keep her tail and four legs.

A few unshed blinked away tears is what came from me, if it had been my own precious boy Dusty, the black tabby who sleeps at the bottom of my bed and taps at my window I would have been devastated. As it is I'm more concerned now for my mother, the white cat Frosty was her cat, and she's obviously upset. I think anyone who has a heart is upset by the passing of life, it's just knowing that they've been extinguished, they wont look at you again and recognise you. They won't move again. Just lie still, and that's the depressing part.

That cat's been around for most of my life, it's as if the end of university marks the end of my childhood, and everything that was a part of that is ending too. Even the sodding cat has died. I'll be 21 next month, and I have never felt time slip away so quickly before. If I take a minute to catch my breath or even to mourn the death of a family pet, how many months will pass by without me noticing by the time I glance back up?

Food and being 10

I never used to eat as a child, I wasn't just a fussy eater, I wouldn't eat hardly a thing that my mother put in front of me, the best I could do were tins of Heinz pasta and turkey drummers, of course cake and chocolate were another matter, you can always eat sugary rubbish. The doctors couldn't understand why I wouldn't eat and mother was upset by how thin her 8 year old was, barely there really. Then at 10 I went on a week school trip to Edgemont house in the country, my mother didn't want me to go because she was worried I wouldn't eat anything and be sent home or risk starvation, but I insisted. and what nobody could get their head around was that I did eat. I stuffed myself! It's like I'd never eaten before that week, I ate everything. Because frankly, it's my mothers cooking that is inedible.

I remember the first night at that house and the tables sat 5 students and there was a huge serving area at the front of the room, squash was served in jugs on the table. They served hot steaming chicken and mushroom pie with potatoes and lashings of vegetables and gravy and bread rolls with butter. They didn't skimp on portions either, they loaded you up. I cleaned my plate. In the morning selections of cereal were served and you got to pour milk on it yourself (which is a big deal to me!) and after that had been cleared away hot breakfast came out, sausage and bacon and egg, and bread and beans and orange juice! Every day I munched my way through food for an army and by the end, when the coach drove us back to the school gates and my mother stood beaming and waving, I literally could have cried, I dragged my bag and dragged my worn out trainers on the floor and I sulked. Even my dad was there to meet me and walk us home but I was depressed. That's the first time I think I felt and was depressed.

I had been changed by that trip, it had been the best time of my life so far, and I was never again going to eat whatever my mother served me. Like the stew she tried serving that night, chicken legs cooked in a thin greyish colour gravy, with bits of mush and vegetables, the chicken was still on the bone, just sort of floating around the water like dead fish in a diseased lake, I still can't understand how one is supposed to eat soggy wet chicken drumsticks out of stew water, with a knife and fork or with hands that then get sticky? It was tasteless but the textures and appearance is enough the put you off eating that. I was transformed by that trip and its glorious meals. I decided I was old enough to cook for myself, and so just turned 11, I demanded that my parents give me the £20 a week they received as child allowance for me. (I had asked my brother how much child allowance was). I said either I bought and cooked food myself or I'd sit in my room and starve. So I got the child allowance every week. The first thing I did was walk to the supermarket.

Unlike my mother who insisted the 'good' branded stuff was better, I wasn't ashamed to buy the own brand items twice the size and a half the price of the 'good' stuff. I went into Iceland for the first time and then I lugged home bags of frozen pizza and breaded chicken strips, I bought mayonnaise! Ready made curries and bread! I bought butter, a tub of flora that would last forever, when my parents proper butter was untouchable and ran out after 3 days. I still had change which I used to buy a cone of chips that day and a cake to eat at home. My mother couldn't believe how much stuff I'd gotten out of a £20, but when you're not proud and you budget, even a skinny 11 year old who's bad at math can stretch money. I soon learnt I had to label everything with my name, and argue and get angry or risk it all getting eaten outside of my own mouth. Call me selfish or spiteful but I'd been hungry enough trying to swallow down my mothers grey dishwater stew for far too long, and I was a kid! They were adults. As far as I was concerned from the day I started high school, they could and should provide for themselves and as soon as I was an adult I'd do the same. If they insisted on buying small amounts of expensive brand stuff, never spending more than £20 themselves and so having next to nothing in a basket and living off chicken and rice stew water that was up to them and they could damn well be jealous of my pizza and chips.

At 14 I began to earn up to £20 a week babysitting my niece and nephew for my brother.
at 16 I went to college and got EMA.
at 18 I started uni, got a job and had loan money sent 3 times a year.

So you see, I have always planned for the end of one lot of money to spill into the beginning of another. Now Uni is coming to an end, and sometimes I feel like the only person who is worried about leaving on lot of money and having no other to slip into, I am job searching like a woman possessed, and I wont just lay back and 'go with it', I am dedicated. It's the thought of money that drives me and I'm not ashamed of that. Money buys food, and I hate being hungry. Food is my favourite thing in the world.

Hungry

I hate being hungry. The only good thing about being hungry is when you know you're about to stuff yourself with yumminess very soon. When there is no yumminess to be had, or even a stale cardboard like edible substance, well then being hungry is a torment. I'd rather hand myself than starve or die of dehydration. There's not even a tiny notch of butter or a slice of bread in these four walls to have a piece of toast. God I hate it here.

How do people live like this? I should have the answer to that question, I've lived here for the duration of my life and detested almost every moment that I can recall.

I remember the first time money entered my hand I knew I'd found the drive in my life. At 14 I was suddenly regarded old enough to babysit for my brothers kids and earn a tenner a night, once, usually twice a week and those two tattered and battered ten pound notes were like precious moonbeams captured and imprinted on paper, the first thing I did was go to the supermarket. I spent a little on food and stuffed my face with oven cooked pie and cake for afters. The rest I slipped into a money box and so I did every week, to save up an emergency fund. After a while I halved that emergency fund and took £40 shopping. Me and Jodie who were still close then went to Westbrom...my god the days when that high street seemed to have every shop a girl could want and a pair of jeans, a top and sunglasses came to £14.50! I brought home plenty of change which went back in the fund.

I gave up a high school social life for that babysitting job, maybe that's why I didn't take up smoking and drinking along with my old friends, while they were trying things out and hanging around Macdonald's like a second home, I couldn't afford to turn down the money. Every time my brother rang I couldn't resist what that ten pound would feel like in my hand, and if I did a double night even better! plus I got fed, allowed to help myself to his kitchen and the use of over a hundred DVD's. Peaceful and cosy and for what? taking care of a toddler and kid who were easy going and behaved for me no matter what mood they were in.

When I'm on the rough road of being broke again, which frankly comes and goes with the student life. I gave up the part time job to focus on my last set of studies, which isn't something I can regret even when I'm rubbing pennies because every spare minute I have to myself I am working, studying, researching, reading. I have a constant headache as of lately. I'll happily be poor for a while if it means I pass through this ordeal. But when I'm short on money I only really miss food. It's easily handled when you're cold without heating and running a comb through hair that's lugged without conditioner with two inches of brown root growth above faded red, but hunger, Christ hunger is a plague on the system. You can't ignore or forget when your stomach rumbles and feels likes it's ripping apart. I can't feed you yet because if I eat too early you'll only be starving later, the later you get something in the better you'll get to sleep. I get paid in a week, literally 6 days to go...then the first thing I will do is a supermarket run round for a weeks worth of glorious food and a trip to the chippy for a large portion of everything!

It's going to be absolutely amazing when I have a full time paying job and get a month of wages. No matter what it is, or if I hate it, when that money registers I'll think I have the best life in the world. I wonder how long that will last.

Tears.

Christ, I've just done my makeup and now I'm crying for the 3rd time since I came on. I had a moment last night of abrupt emotion, then I had an awful dream and woke up in floods of tears and had to calm down before I could get back to sleep. and now I'm just plain emotional from some stupid message! Get a sodding grip Siviter! Pull it together. Reign it in.
I suppose excuses are I'm in a heightened anxiety state with my upcoming end of university and deadlines and financial crisis but this is bloody over the top even for me. I always get worked up on my time of the month but this is extreme, its my first day and I'm a wreck! Seriously, pull it the fuck together or I'll slap you across the face myself!

Mood.

My mood this week hasn't been the best. I put it down to uni work stress overload, and on coming time of the month. The door knocked today and I said to my mother "If that's for me tell them I died...very unexpectedly" and slumped into my room. This is basically my attitude for the entire week. I'm glad my Mr Jones is taking me to a live comedy show tomorrow to see the T.V version of myself: Miranda! I am looking forward to an evening out and a date, it's been a while. Even though I'm penny poor and need to scav for everything at the moment, I'm due a payment from selling my DVD collection which I expected tomorrow but its not going to be sent until after the weekend, which sucks. I can't wait to get that last student finance payment, it's going to sit there and make me feel comfortable that I can afford some decent food again! My phone contract is finished soon and like hell am I renewing it! Stealing bastards! I'm going to switch to a virgin contract of £8 a month that gives me more than I get now for £24 a month. Then I am going to job hunt and I am going to stress and cry and rant and enjoy the last easter holiday ever, and hope and pray someone buys me an egg, and if they don't I'm getting myself one because I'll need it. I'll stuff it in my face while choosing a movie before remembering I sold my dvd's because I'm poor then I will crash into Jones' depressed and take over the t.v. and demand a Disney movie download, and I will sulk and pray that I pass my last assignments. This is the mood I am going to sleep in, I miss Jones, I am going to make an effort to look awesome tomorrow night. I wish I could find a spare few pounds so I could buy him some surprise donuts for after work. I must hunt and scav someone for a few pound. Hmmm.