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I should, I should, I should

I should, I should, I should

I don’t remember the last Monday that didn’t start with a diet.

A Monday didn’t commence with me walking out of the front door, salmon salad in hand, gym kit in bag ready to undo the wrong doing of the weekend just past.

I don’t remember the last Monday I didn’t walk into the office to coos of ‘did you watch it, did you see the new Stranger Things?’ and not feel pangs of utter dissapointment that I didn’t manage to squeeze in 8 hours of television into my weekend.

I don’t remember the last time I went to a spin class and actually enjoyed it.

I don’t think I go on the diet every Monday because I want to. My clothes fit, and hang fine and I’m not at impending risk of diabetes. But I feel like I should, because it’s Monday and that’s what you do. Right?

I love my tele, don’t get me wrong, but when I rushed home that Monday night to sit down in front of Stranger Things to catch up, did I want to be watching it? Eventually, yes.

But right then? Right then, no. But it was the Monday after it was released and I felt like I should .

Nobody goes to spin classes for any other reasons than the promise of a slightly pertier arse and because we think we should.

Should, should, should is everywhere we look.

I should stay in this WhatsApp group from that hen do I went on 18 months ago, even though I can’t stand 90% of the people in it and the memes being sent round are getting increasingly more ‘Brexit’. I should because it’s polite. Sod it. Remove. Goodbye. Ta-ra.

I should go for drinks with those friends from 5 jobs ago even though it’s been 2 years and we never speak, but I should because they’ve text me. No. I can’t. I’m painting my third toe nail from the left and that is that.

I should give up meat because everyone else is and I feel the eyes of David Attenborough boring down on me every time I slide a bit of bacon out of it’s plastic sleeve. I’ll recycle the sleeve but my word, my Saturday’s would never be the same again. I can’t, not sorry.

I should cut down on coffee, yes. But I bloody love it. I should go to bed at 10pm every night with a ginger tea and an open mind to mindfulness. But I don’t bloody want to.

I should, I should, I should.

I tell you what I should be doing more of?

What I bloody want. And if that means exiting a WhatsApp group with no warning, just you watch me.




Talking with our thumbs

Talking with our thumbs

The notion of thirty

The notion of thirty