The Christmas Diaries 2018 | Day Three

Dear Diary,

It’s my third diary, where I document my Christmas break with my family; you can read Day One here and Day Two here if you so wish.

It came to my attention that I am due on; I am not particularly well-informed when it comes to my period. Up until about the age of 21, I was as clockwork as my mum is for texting me every Wednesday at 6.31pm to tell me my alcohol consumption is somewhat excessive. Every 28 days, on the dot, that was the way it was. It all then went downhill, and I should really be looking into shares with ClearBlue, as my period is regularly 10 days late, whereby I take 3 pregnancy tests a day. No one should get used to urinating on their own hand. No one.

Anyway, I realised that Mother Nature was impending, A) Because I’d been rather tearful after hearing the 1984 Band Aid classic Christmas hit, and 2) After today.

Now, some women are lucky enough to experience little to no premenstrual symptoms. I am not one of those women. I snort carbs, cry, get angry, wake up to 14 new heads on my chin, and bloat after even looking at a slice of Hovis.

I decided to track down the nearest shopping centre (it wasn’t even particularly near), today of all days; Christmas Eve. I’d seen there was a John Lewis, and I’d decided what I needed in my life was overpriced baubles and 10,000 fucking dawdlers getting under my feet.

My period hadn’t actually crossed my mind (probably not the best sentence when you’re sexually active – I will be one of those women in the Real Life Stories section of Now magazine who shit out a baby on the toilet), until my little trip to a packed out department store.

My bad mood gained momentum from the minute I set foot in the hallowed halls of John Lewis; someone shoving past me in the lift gained my first tut of the day. A dawdler in front of me causing me to walk into the back of them achieved a ‘For fucks sake’ under my breath. A child running into my kneecaps got a growl, and by the time I was queuing in Waitrose and someone smacked me with a foil turkey tray and I screamed ‘JESUS CHRIST’, I was at my wits end. It was the mistake of the woman behind me in the queue to mutter to her friend ‘God, listen to her, screaming about Jesus on Christmas Eve of all days!’.

The wrath I emitted, as I whipped around and looked directly into this womans soul as I snarled ‘Well, I thought it was quite fitting the day before his birthday, don’t you think?’, was enough to make her actually jump back slightly in her Chelsea boots and look down at the linoleum floor.

After returning home to the family abode, I strode straight into the kitchen, and poured myself an extra large Pinot immediately. Mother Nature was clearly well on her way to ruin Christmas day, and my white lace thong, so I may as well do 4,000 calories in wine seeing as she was already set on making me look 7 months pregnant as it was. What’s another month of pregnancy?

Uncle Richard has recently gone through a break up (7 months ago), and has found a way to worm it into every conversation. I’ve actually begun a bingo system of phrases in my head; everytime I hit a phrases I treat myself to a shortbread finger.

So far, we’ve had ‘I’m not a bad looking man for 57’ a total of 11 times; ‘I stopped wearing brogues for her’ 8 times, ‘She’ll have a hard time finding someone who put up with her neediness and tapestry addiction like I did’ 6 times, and my personal favourite, ‘I personally think her relationship with a bottle of Tia Maria was bordering on unhealthy’ 3 times.

I’ve also been amusing myself by seeing how he can turn a conversation so utterly unrelated to his relationship woes into one that fully concerns it. We were conversing about conjunctivitis earlier, and I found it almost admirable how within 14 seconds, we were in a conversation about how his ex girlfriend had a penchant for pashmina scarves, and how ungrateful she was when he gifted anything else for Christmas or birthdays.

Anyway; I’m off to enjoy an evening of knocking back Chardonnay, giving free therapy to Uncle Richard (I’d strongly advise against taking note of anything that comes out of my mouth after my second wine), and attempting to wrap Christmas presents whilst half cut.

Happy Christmas Eve everyone, and I’ll speak to you tomorrow.

All my love BGP xx

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