I wake up to my alarm at 7:15am, as usual.
I snooze for the obligatory 9 minutes and allow myself a little more time to practice the new Strictly routine with Louis Smith.
Then I switch it off and browse Instagram, watch Holly & Phil’s funniest moments on YouTube and at 7:50am drag my lazy arse out of bed and to the bathroom.
Suddenly reminded that I accidentally bleached the absolute shit out of my hair again last night.
I get ready to a PixiWoo make-up tutorial and get carried away with my highlighter before realising I needed to leave 7 minutes ago. I scrape my hair into the most disgustingly high bun and yank on a pair of jeans and some comfortable shoes.
I grab my coat, run out of the door and hot foot it to work, breaking into gentle jogs at semi-regular intervals.
At approximately 8:27am I text my boss asking if she wants a coffee, the perfect distraction from my lateness – but damn, that cost me £5 and obviously I bought a yoghurt coated flapjack too. I make a vow to start clean eating at lunch time.
Two hours after arriving at my desk I remember to change out of my trainers and into my office appropriate footwear, pulling a rogue sock from my trouser leg in the process.
My phone keeps nagging me to drink water or my body will shrivel up, like a prune. I google the actual health benefits of drinking 2 litres of water a day and guzzle from my water bottle like Tom Hanks in Castaway.
Accidentally bought a Tesco meal deal…
Just remembered Boyfriend is flying to Switzerland 18 minutes ago and I didn’t send a nice, girlfriendly “Have a safe flight” text. Plane is now almost definitely going to crash and I will be entirely to blame. Minus 18569870 GF points.
Stomach is starting to feel a bit odd after that white bread at lunchtime.
Lock my PC screen at 5pm on the dot and proceed to top-up my face in preparation for ‘book club’ with Al.
Book club consists of just me and Al.
We spend approximately 5 minutes berating our current book and mutual dislike of the written Irish dialect and then continue to drink wine and discuss table plans for our non-existent weddings.
I order calamari to start, followed by steak and chips and finished with the chocolate nemesis. Not the light stir-fry I had envisaged but hey, it’s a Tuesday and y’know… Book club.
We drink another bottle of wine and bitch about mutual acquaintances we both pretend to like to everybody else.
I will have a green tea when I get home, that will counteract everything.
We stop at another pub on the way home and have another bottle for the road, we get kicked out an hour later.
I get home and throw myself in the shower, rubbing my face down with apricot scrub and abandoning my poor Clarisonic that I rave about to absolutely anybody that will listen, but realistically use only once a week… At best.
I climb into bed and attempt to FaceTime Boyfriend, propping myself up for a half decent angle in my drunken stupor… He doesn’t answer, it is 1am in Switzerland.
I didn’t put the recycling out.