leg nipples and being the second coming of taylor swift

confessional #5

Hello!

Welcome to Confessional #5! I am a day late in uploading this, so please just do me a solid and pretend that it’s still a Wednesday. Thanking you kindly.

What’s going on in your life at the moment? I would love to know! Let’s have a chat in the comments!

My life continues to be a treadmill of health issues and unsuccessful job hunting. I won’t bore you all with the details, but due to a rather scary incident that happened whilst I was driving, the doctors now think I might either have Diabetes or POTS. Amongst other things. If I am diagnosed with POTS, I won’t be allowed to drive anymore, which will be pretty catstrophic living in such a rural area.

On a more humorous note, my body keeps making spots itchy spots appear on my arms and legs. This doesn’t sound funny, but I promise you it is. Why? Because the spots look like nipples, and I am still a child who finds nipples funny. You should’ve seen the double-take I did when I first saw the spot on my leg. My brain short-circuited; I thought I had grown a nipple on my upper thigh. (Don’t worry, the doctors are aware of this too. God bless the NHS.) I feel like a shaky, light-headed, excess-nipple-having creature. What would they call me? Would they revere the Nipple Grower? Would they tell folk stories?

My body continues to raise the bar in how malfunctioning it is. It would be impressive if it wasn’t so shit.

But I’m not going to dwell on my health, because it annoys me and it probably annoys you.

So I will report back on other antics that happened this week:

• I had my first proper session with my therapist.

  I cried a lot. I still feel embarrassed. Crying in front of a therapist is perhaps one of the most natural things you can do - I’m literally paying her to watch me cry (and hopefully help me with my eating disorder) - but I just want to curl in on myself. We touched on my childhood trauma, which I said I should be over by now, because I am evil to myself. I am very much not over it. I definitely got my money’s worth from the amount of tissues I went through, though.

• I dyed my hair a shade called ‘Spicy Chocolate’, which is utterly thrilling just in name alone.

• It was nail week!

  I went burgundy and polka dots. Being basic and following trends and actually not being unique is so much fun at times.

• I didn’t impulse buy a coat!

  I am desperately attempting to adopt a more low-buy lifestyle, especially as I’m not earning much at the moment. Would anyone be interested in an artcicle about this?

• I have stopped trying to cram myself into my size 16 clothes. Emma, you are a size 20. Accept it and buy some clothes off Vinted. Get clothes that can fit you across various sizes.

• I have been offered my first ever bit of freelance work!

  I can practicaly smell my offgrid lifestyle, writing freelance from my non-existent campervan.

• I came second place in a tattoo giveaway that my tattoo artist was running! I have never won anything before, so I was and am DELIGHTED by this. Now I just need to decide what I want.

• I reached 100 subscribers on Substack! The fame is blinding. Is this how Taylor Swift feels? Am I, in fact, the second coming of Taylor Swift?

• Job rejections are beginning to bounce off me now.

  You regret to inform me I’m unsuccessful? Okay, babes. Don’t worry about it. Other candidates have more experience? Got it. I’m not the direction you’re going in at the moment? Fine. You’ve ghosted me after I did a literal trial shift for you? Okay, I’m still fuming about that one; at least have the decency to tell me no after you have interviewed me, and spent a day working with me.

• I got 12 balls of wool for £18 from Hobbycraft!

  (For my non-British readers, this is the equivalent of walking into Gucci and getting a handbag for £2.50. Hobbycraft is an unreasonably expensive craft store in the UK, but it is bloody lovely to browse in.)

The Goods:

Highlight of the week:

Reaching 100 subscribers on Substack. Without doubt. Despite all of the notes telling me not to compare myself with other writers on here, I have been acutely aware of how ‘slowly’ my numbers have been creeping up. I think writers have a built in ability to compare themselves to others, whilst simultaneously uplifting that person for their success.

I have now reached my only self-prescribed milestone on here. Everything else, as I said in a gushing note earlier this week, is a wonderful bonus. I am not going anywhere and I am completely locked in on here.

This will either please you or make you irrate, depending if you are the author of my first hate comment or not.

As you can tell, I still haven’t understood Substack. Apprently my blog is writing me, not the other way around.

Most humbling moment of the week:

I nearly fainted in the wine aisle of a big Tesco. The world went very dark and I felt like I was going to crash straight into the Pinot Grigio. Luckily, my boyfriend is considerably taller than me, so I just buried my head in his chest and hung onto him like he were a tree in a typhoon until the feeling passed. Having invisible health issues is ridiculously humbling.

Also, imagine waking up in a puddle of wine. Maybe that is some people’s dream.

Pictures of the week:

My nails ft. the post which you are currently reading

I think this could very well be the best hair dye name ever.

I’m a sucker for chalkboard art

This sweet baby void curled up on a bench

As ever, this was a joy to write. I just love writing. Like, shit. It’s so fun. Why did I ever stop writing and convince myself that there was no point doing it?

See you on Sunday for more nonsense!

All my love,

Emma