September the 7th 1994
Cancelled the hairdresser’s.
The last thing on my mind is a pearly, panting perm!
Still feeling pretty ‘shitester!’
Whether I’m ill or not I need to propel myself out of bed!
I’m not depressed.
Far from it.
Walked down to Gran’s .
She is always cooking .
Even if she doesn’t have visitors she’ll be cooking for when she does have guests!
Had a huge dinner there .
Bloody lovely!
Have to go to the gym.
No matter what.
I need to burn them calories off!
Can’t have a stodgy podge.
Did a cracking one and a half hours. Sweating this cold out!
Felt a bit better after a work out but these low thoughts are ferreting around my head.
Of pesky people taking advantage of me. I don’t just mean Mr Fester himself but maybe a few at work.
Told Mum she said “Just stick up for yourself.
You don’t have to be nasty but be honest and tell them!” Mum replied.
At work people might slag me off.
Then why do I work my guts off and do favours for them?
They can shove them favours right up their rabbit holes!
Even Big Wig’s!
I’m gonna have to be more positive and each day write something good that’s happened in my diary.
Am I paranoid after my drinking ?
No I think it’s genuine ( my thoughts)
I’m even taking to myself?
Hello, hello, hello
Sophia rang me up!
“Are we going to Yates on Wednesday?”
Is Ex-Fest a bald twat?
Yes to both!’
Tidied my bedroom and filled in an application for the cleaner’s job at my work!
