My name is Laura Patricia Jones- I am 28 years one month and 12 days old i popped gluten free, low lactose pizza in the oven and I still managed to get it out char grilled, in fact my cooking was so impressive even the fire alarm cheered me on.
I have had a lot of miniature relationships since but have been officially single since June 2010 and have gone from eight years in the dizzy heights of London to living back in my room, in the family home where I was born, with my retired and ever so tiring grandmamar- there is a sitcom there if ever there was right?
But I’ve been trying so bloody hard to be a normal human – i’ve even googled ‘how to function at 28’ and no luck…
I have inadvertently become one of those people I used to hate-the kind that goes home and is always okay because there is always cheese in the fridge and chips in the freezer so they will never go hungry – I always hated those people, bacon is expensive and that.
I have become tiresome and have no remorse for my actions as I lived away for like ever and this is my grown up gap year *tells herself*
Shit I need to move out before I’m 30- I will move out before I’m 30…
But I work, dear god I work… I own my own buisness, am soon to set up my own office space yet am still judged- oh the lols.
This evening I walked down the road at half ten looking and acting like a seventeen year old parker hoody up, cowboy boots striding down the road humming along to Alanis Morrisette’s ‘Ironic’ There is half a bottle of cheap blossom hill wine in my bag which is probably going fizzy and I have no potential suitors in my phone book.
Life is pretty crap.
I have got to that age where now back in the tiniest of towns the only men I meet are damaged goods on the rebound or already have about three kids- not something I’m averse to but a situation that is alien to me.
I have come to the conclusion that I will never be a mother, I will be the aunty who gives the cuddles, the sort of aunty whose in the front row at the school nativity and the mommy’s friend who takes you to Macdonalds and lets you have a McFlurry. Because I love kids , I’m good with them, I want to be around when my friends have them, but I am in no shape or form ever ready to have my own.
I thought I was – from my first tiny tears doll to taking care of my baby sister, but as I’ve aged I’ve discovered that perhaps that path was never for me. It’s sort of my own punishment , I swear my body is so fertile it could look at a man and be pregnant with triplets.
But then said body always rejects said responsibility and can never carry it through , It’s almost like my uterus is like noooo this is Big Brother you are now evicted from the house!
I want to be a mother- one day, desperately, it’s all I ever wanted but right now I know it’s all I will never be.
Anyway the less said about said incidents the better.
But what’s a girl to do?
I sodding hate Christmas as am eternally miserable, alone and married to a glass of wine who is incredibly naughty and simply will not fill itself!
I feel like I have been writing this post every year on repeat for the past five years and what does it say?
I’m still here and I’m still going.
Whether I be writing it from Surrey, Fulham, Islington, Clapham, Wandsworth or Sedgley – the girls still got gip!
Oh god the wine has run out- THE WINE HAS RUN OUT (there was only a crap cheap bottle and I am no longer in London so can’t run across the street for a bottle of cat piss)
Unfortunately I am also at the age when people like to judge – you know deciding your the dinner table joke rather than the evening entertainment.
The moment when your cheerleaders become your trolls is a difficult one for every creative ever but it happens because in the creative process it takes a long time to find yourself and by the time you do you may find you were never the person you set out to be and those around you weren’t either.
However Alanis Morissette will always stay true to the soul , from the moment I spent my 16th birthday money on the Jagged Little Pill album I never looked back…