There's nothing* worse...

... than going to the loo, dropping your jeans and sitting down, only to discover you have plonked yourself on to the cold, grimy lid of the toilet and not the actual toilet seat as intended.

Anyway, apart from that rather unfortunate meeting of my bits and a piece of industrial plastic, life's looking up at the moment. Here's why:

• It's Friday (you can sing it if you want to)
• I'm feeling lucky – recently won a bottle of YSL Belle d'Opium courtesy of the awesome beauty website Pretty 24/7 and got a call yesterday to say I'd been picked for a VW Date Drive for next week Wednesday. Boyfriend and I don't really do date night in general, but when someone offers you the new Polo Gti for a night, you take it. 
• I am the proud owner of a full-length mirror for the first time in my life (I know, right?). Being able to see myself from top to toe hasn't turned out as badly as I suspected it might either. In fact (though I haven't ruled out that possibility that the mirror may just have a particularly slimming effect), it turns out I'm not as obese as originally thought. Who knew? Happy dance (in my skanties).
• Got all kinds of fun planned for this weekend, beginning with beer tasting this evening and the Good Food and Wine Show tomorrow. 
• This week is finally over. The past few have been busy, stressful and I think I may have developed ADHD as a result, but Monday should bring a tiny bit of reprieve. Here's to breathing for a change.

*Okay sure there's cancer, and nuclear war, and genocide, and not having enough milk left for a cup of tea, but you know what I mean.

Cravings

You know how sometimes it's the middle of a boring afternoon, or the early hours of the morning after one too many Jack and limes, and you have those weird ping! moments when you think, 'I need to have a KitKat/peanut butter sandwich/bubblegum Steri Stumpie right now'?

Well, this post isn't about those kind of cravings. I mean, food cravings make up a big part of my day, writing about them may get a little tedious.

But sometimes I get 'thing' cravings. An avid consumer (who isn't?), I often find myself fixated on items of a material nature, and I get the same rabid, must-have-that feeling one gets when one visualises, say, a Cassis macaron or warm avocado on toast.

At the moment, I'm thinking that the following may change my life for the better:

It's like happiness in a bottle. Possibly my second-favourite fragrance (nothing in the world tops Marc Jacobs' Daisy I'm afraid)

Do I need a reason? Just so pretty. Love the rough-hewn effect. (from Hello Thula's Etsy store)

I wear a pair of (fine, faux) pearls every day. Pity one slipped from my ear somewhere in Betty's Bay this weekend. Must go and replace asap. My lobes feel nekkid.

Had my credit card details and address and everything filled in before I saw that this was out of stock on ASOS. I nearly cried. The hunt for my new handbag continues.

I blogged a little while ago about buying big girl jeans (saying goodbye to my jegging days). I've found the perfect fit with Levi's CurveID range, they just don't seem to make them in a plain blue, only horrid faded patterns and other silliness. Anyway, when I one day find them in the right shade, this is what they will look like. I'm hoping the flat stomach and shoes come with them too...

Well, we're all still here. Rapture that. Most embarrassed by the whole nobody-disappeared-and-the-world-didn't-begin-to-end mess must be whoever put that billboard up on the drive through Somerset West. Next to giant lettering spelling out the time and date of Judgement Day was a jaunty little yellow flash sticker (the kind they have in Checkers that says, 'Milk R4 less!!') reading: The Bible guarantees it.

That's not the kind of thing you can go back on, your holiness. Unless you had some fine print in there somewhere, and I didn't spot any.

Unfortunately, the fact that the world didn't end means it's Monday again somehow. Really, how does this happen? One minute it's Friday 3.30 pm in the office and everyone's talking about their weekend plans, and then suddenly your alarm is causing a commotion next to your ossicles and it's time to get up and start the week. A five-day week this time too. How will we survive?

Luckily I got a whole lot of R&R in over the weekend, first with Mexican food and margaritas at El Burro on Friday night and then by disappearing to Betty's Bay for the weekend – no TV, no radio, no cars, no crime, no internet, no laptops, no work .. nada. Just me, Boyfriend and another two friends, a few (very short) walks and a whole lot of reading, Rummikub and 30 Seconds.

It may be a far cry from the party Jade of old, but I must say I was feeling pretty blissed out by Sunday night, and started looking forward to my retirement years. I'll be a ripe old 25 in January, so only 40 to go....

How did that happen?

One minute I was hitting 'publish post' on last week's Weekend in Numbers, and the next thing I knew I was falling asleep last night thinking, 'I can't believe it's Monday tomorrow...'.

Not entirely sure where the week went. Got swallowed up somewhere between deadlines, rain, a couple of rather nice but very PRish events, and exercise. Not exactly the most exciting of lives I'm leading at the moment.

And now here we are. Monday. Again. Terrible that it comes around once a week isn't it? Luckily it's only a hop, skip and a Tuesday until yet another South African public holiday, so don't get too depressed alright?

I'm sure you're all doing the right thing and voting on Wednesday so I won't even mention it (not really).

Since my weekend was largely spent vegetating with Boyfriend and series, and hiding from the cold, I haven't got one of my usual, uproariously funny (why are you smirking?) Weekend in Numbers lists for you. But I will say this:

I love Karen at Scar. She makes my hair do nice things. I have a fringe. And it looks rather swishy if I do say so myself.

And this:

The burly, rugby player look is not usually the one I go for, but I urge all ladies to go and see Thor as soon as possible. The comic book nerd inside me enjoyed the movie in itself, but there's also a set of abs in there that are worth getting a gander at. On the big screen. In 3D. I'm just saying.

The weekend in numbers

Number of glasses of wine at Lara Lane's 23rd birthday sleepover party on Friday night: I'm going to round it down to about a bottle and a half (yes, I said down). The night started out innocently enough, with cupcakes and manicures and party games and a scary movie, then we all got drunk and invited boys over. Like high-school all over again. Reliving our youth. 

Number of successful pancakes made by us the next morning in our PJs: zero. Way too hungover for batter mixing and stove watching. Ended up with one charred pancake, one two-finger thick monstrosity that looked like an underdone crumpet, and something with lumps that caused Lara to make a beeline for the bathroom. Instead we lay around for a bit and tried not to think about our heads hurting.

Number of hours spent at Taste of Cape Town with Boyfriend on Saturday night: not too many. An outdoor festival in the cold makes for a short outdoor festival, even if the culinary delights and wine tasting are usually right up our alley.

Number of happy mothers on Sunday: one (well, one of mine at least, I don't know about you lot obviously). This is a very good thing. My mother is someone for whom you can buy the Wrong Flowers, which makes Mother's Day a bit of a panicky affair for my sibling and I. Anyway, Brother and I cooked her brunch, went for a walk in the new Greenpoint Urban Park (you have to go, it's gorgeous) and she's getting one of these today:

Thanks to @CapeTown_Girl for the recommendation

Number of kilos officially gained since Christmas as of my weigh-in this morning: five. FIVE. Fuck. Can you believe it. Heifer.

I was right!

Saying those awful things out loud (ish) made me feel a little better. Or it may have been the cup of tea. Probably a mixture of both.

Anyway, I couldn't leave you such a stormy post to kick the weekend off either. And this kind of made me smile:

Boyfriend is sporting a tache again (someone stop him), though I somehow doubt I'll be wearing it to ballet anytime soon.

From the same tumblr came this:

Isn't that funny. I was always worried about my split personality, but it turns out I'm not alone.

Last one:

Good morning... Yeah? What's good about it?

Hmmpf. I'm feeling very un-Rebecca Black about today.

It may have something to do with the tragedy of me getting on the scale this morning. Not that I expected any dramatic weight loss after only a week of officially getting back on track. But I certainly didn't expect to be at my highest weight ever.

Having words like 'fat', 'round', 'disgusting' and 'failure' floating around your head at 7 am are enough to ruin anyone's Friday (Friday, gotta get down on Friiiiday).

And then my mascara clumped. And then I decided to wear jeans to work, which only makes me feel more obese. And then I dropped my iPhone while taking it out of my bag. On gravel. Chipping the screen in the process.

And then I got to work. And everyone else was happy. And singing Friiiiiday.

(And yes, I'm aware that elsewhere in the world people are waking up starving, or victims of abuse, or in the middle of civil wars, or dying of terminal illness. And I should be happy about my fantastic life. I'm aware this makes me a horrible, self-centred, selfish person.)

They say sometimes the only way to obliterate your negative interior monologue is to get it out (so you can replace it with a gentler one). And since I can't actually say this out loud to people without them getting upset, rolling their eyes or telling me I need to see a shrink ... well, lucky you, blogosphere:

I hate that I've gained weight.
I hate that my hair is just long and fluffy and awful at the moment and it's a week till I can get it cut.
I hate that my stomach resembles that of a fat 45-year-old and not Kate Middleton's.
I hate that my skin has decided to have a panic attack at the ripe old age of 24 instead of in my teens when I would at least have had solidarity amongst my pimply peers.
I hate that I am a 34DD.
I hate my man calves.
I hate that my thighs touch.
I hate having to avoid mirrors, even when I'm brushing my teeth.
I hate that this monster in my brain can ruin a perfectly good Friday, when in all likihood I'm going to leave work early and then go to a lovely friend's lovely birthday party and eat lovely cupcakes that are going to make me feel worse.

Oinked

I love living in Tamboerkskloof. Not only does it take about fifteen minutes to get to work (and that's in traffic) but the Milner Farm means that on some mornings – like today – I spot the family of pigs taking their daily constitutional around the neighbourhood.

Seriously, can you think of a better way to lift your mood first thing on the morning on your way to work, when you've got toothpaste on your shoe or your hair is flat or there was no milk for your Special K?

I can't.

In other news, the beginning of May has seen me trying desperately to up the ante on my healthy regime. How's this for a good start:

Monday     
Dancing (two hours)
Tuesday     
Pilates (one hour)
Wednesday
Dancing (1.5 hours)
Thursday   
Killer abs (15 minutes)
Cardio (30 minutes)
Lunch hour swim (40 laps – or 38 or 42, I lost count somewhere)

Not bad hmm? Also I have a new philosophy. It's called 'What Would Kate Do?'. Because clearly in order to be loved and adored by millions, fall with your derriere firmly in the butter, and always have shiny, bouncy hair, one needs to conduct oneself in a certain way. Therefore before I do anything from now on, I will first imagine how Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Cambridge would proceed.

And smile. And ... wave.

I think I could be good at this.

Goodness nothing like a spate of public holidays to ruin your blogging productivity. Not that I'm complaining, despite everyone else jumping on the 'Shoowow, I'm, like, so over all these public holidays, bru' bandwagon. Sure there was the weird limbo feeling when you didn't know what day of the week it was, and there was the severe unproductiveness of me on the days that were working days, which means I'm a little behind on deadlines, but the extra few hours of sleep/snuggling up in bed and watching Fringe were worth it.

Still, glad we're back to normal today. Well, technically, I was back to normal yesterday, what with coming in to work and going to gym and whatnot, but today makes it official.

It's been raining in Cape town, Kate and Will are hitched, Osama is sleeping with the fishes, and Vivienne Westwood's penis shoes are on display in London.

In short, all is as normal and well as it ever is on this ridiculous spinning not-quite-spherical ball we inhabit.

Welcome to May.