31.01.13- Results, Red Wine and Revealing All

Yesterday was a very interesting day. However I couldn't write about it last night because I went out for a quiet drink with my younger sister and can't remember getting home. All I remember is trying to make porridge, giving up and crying in my bed rolling around because I was going to be sick and didn't want to ruin my sink or bin. Facebook tells me I've left another classy status in my state of intoxication but fortunately no private messages, which means times must definitely be changing.
The only problem now is that I don't know whether my body has performed some sort of Christ-miracle and dodged a hangover or whether I'm still drunk. I suppose all will become clear in my 2-hour poetry lecture.

I am no stranger to "a quiet one at the pub"

So. My 3 main points that made yesterday so interesting:

1) I achieved 72 and a First for my first set of marks. 
2) My sister and I managed to go for a drink and enjoy each other's company completely and nobody died and nobody said to the other "GET OUT OF MY LIFE". In fact, we bonded at the end of the night by snorting and dribbling all over a kebab shop table.
3) I got naked in front of the camera.

Getting naked in front of the camera...what's that I hear you say? Slut? Tasteless? Should be ashamed?

Adam and Eve would have been well
up for the project

And no it wasn't for money nor Playboy.
It was part of an art project by a talented photographer called Sophie which got people daring to bare all and reveal honestly what they feel about their bodies in a study on the media and its impact on the way we view ourselves. I think this is a fantastic idea. So many women (and men of course) have issues with their bodies. I read a statistic the other day that 90% of young women have something they want to change about their bodies. 90%. To think that most of us face the mirror in the sense of a sort of battle against ourselves is quite a saddening thought and certainly not one I'm unfamiliar with. The response to this project has been massive and the shots so far all unique and amazing. You simply pick an object you would like to use to hide whichever parts you don't want to show. I chose my blue electric guitar (my books were a bit small and I didn't want my boobs sneaking into the picture to say hello) to reflect my creative, feminine side. Others chose drum sets, make-up or just themselves. In every case, the image was hugely powerful and it was amazing to see the real people, not the characters we pass every day bundled up in work uniforms or well-worn jeans.
I did this as a challenge to myself whilst I start out my CBT therapy again. CBT I know will push me to my limits and beyond in confronting my issues with my own body. By showing my body-- my source of trouble and my daily enemy in the mirror-- I am saying a big "fuck you" to the mental critical voice that stemmed from school bullying and the years of battling an eating disorder as a result. Usually I choose not to talk about it, but the problem with this is that it is a disorder that lives in secret. By talking about it, you are defying it. To do something as intense as CBT to change the way you view your body, you need that sort of strength.
And do you know what? I was pleased with the result. I didn't look at the finished photograph and think "Christ, I look awful and I need to change this or that about myself." Nor did I look at it and think, "COVER UP, SLUT." The shoot itself was nothing I needed to be nervous about. Sophie was so lovely and great at putting people at ease. All I had to do was undress as she left the room, position myself as I wanted, wait for her to come back and take a few shots then dress again as she left. In fact, the shoot was even quicker than planned as she was immediately happy with the second shot, which was great. Mainly because my student house is cold and my nipples may have started talking to me if we had taken a long time.
So that was definitely the highlight of yesterday Yes, I am known for stripping off in every party I go to and going for a jog up the street in my underwear/on a spacehopper, but I think that sort of nudity is more alcohol-induced and doesn't count. Though it is liberating and you should definitely try it (however the liberation ends once you fall off the spacehopper in your knickers).

I can be a massive dork when I'm not
meowing at the neighbourhood cats

And onto other things. My first set of marks. 72 was a massive relief as it maintains the grades I am aiming for. So far I'm averaging to come out with a first-class honours degree if all goes to plan and the exam marks follow suit. Being a ridiculous perfectionist I will settle for nothing less; I worked too hard and cried too many tears of stress and smashed too much china to have anything else written on my degree certificate. And once I have my heart set on something, I will sacrifice men and cats to get it.
So naturally I went out and got drunk. And once again made that silly mistake of doing so after a training session (your night becomes so much cheaper, but working out to get a cheaper night is a really trampy thing to do). It was one of those workouts where you're so buzzing with happiness that the sweat actually drips off your earlobes and onto the floor. I just made myself sound so sexy. If you then imagine me six hours later snorting and dribbling on the kebab shop table, you're probably going to make a little mess in your pants.

Old habits die hard

My sister and I drank until the Bryn Y Mor doors became a challenge worthy of Takeshi's Castle. I can be very feminist and horrible to men when I'm drunk and if I don't want your attention, all politeness goes out of the window. I do remember telling one window-cleaning bloke with a scar from Townhill to "piss off, we don't like you" which was probably rude, but it worked. I can chat myself up, go away (unless I really fancy you, in which case please let me sit on your lap).
Oh God, headache starting to kick in so I'll have to stop writing. I feel like Lord Voldemort is giving me a few swift kicks to the skull with a pair of togs. I have no idea why Lord Voldemort would be wearing togs but if he did, I'm sure it would be sinister.

After a few glasses of wine, I'm all about R.E.S.P.E.C.T.