Hazel’s House is an online clothing store based in New Zealand. When she’s not attempting to source exclusive brands at non-exclusive prices, Hazel sometimes writes blog posts…
Day Thirteen: Saturday July 13th
Yesterday afternoon was the first afternoon in recent history that we decided to have wine in the office. I hid in the bathroom so that my pained expression wouldn’t be apparent to all and sundry. Speaking of pained expressions, I must book in for more Botox. My “open book face” is getting me into trouble in the office again: “do you not agree Renee? You look a bit peeved”.
Being sober on a Saturday is an interesting concept. That’s not to say that it hasn’t been done, or that it can’t be done or it shan’t be done, just that a sober Saturday is invariably followed by a Sunday Sesh. Not this time…
I’ve already gone through 6 litres of soda water and it’s 11am. This is beyond a joke.
I read an article that said that I.F. is a new eating disorder. I’ve always wanted one of those. If I can keep up this disorder and grow 20cm then I won’t need to source a menagerie of models to wear Hazel’s clothes for the photo shoot. I could be onto something here.
Day Sixteen: Tuesday July 16th
I am home alone. This is dangerous. Last time I was home alone I had wine and cheese for dinner. Don’t tell anyone Diary, but I didn’t use a plate for my cheese…or a glass for my wine. I also don’t think I moved from the couch for at least three days.
I did manage to mow the lawns. For the first time ever. After strict instructions from my mum. Got a gold star on my chart, and ticked something off my bucket list.
I am writing a mental menu for the next two nights. I’m entertaining you see Diary. Sober. This is a first. I’m not sure if my banter will be better or worse.
What has elevated my mood, is the image of my mum’s face, when Hazel’s orders start turning up at June Hazel’s house on the GC…imagine her enthusiasm about the problem solving required to get the stock into her suitcase and over the border. She’ll be hoping for a guest appearance on her favourite show: Border Patrol.
Day Nineteen: Friday July 19th
I had to leave work early today. There was wine in the fridge and I instinctually knew that this was going to get uncorked at 4pm. Was this the Lord’s way of telling me that it was better to be sociable than sober?
I made it through Wednesday night’s dinner, I started making a quinoa risotto that became a paella and ended up as an interesting saucy concoction. I even made it without wine. Not intentionally, but because it was too cold in the garage to go out and raid the wine stash.
The third course (chocolate surprise muffin with mixed berry coulis) wasn’t consumed until 10pm, which meant fasting until 2pm the next day. The issue I have is that feasting and fasting are very similar words. I’m mildly dyslexic (although generally just with numbers, which isn’t ideal for an accountant) and sometimes I find myself feasting when I should be fasting. At other times I find myself fasting when I should be feasting. OK, that’s a blatant lie, not once have I accidentally fasted when I could be feasting.
Thursday night’s dinner, Diary, went much the same way as Wednesday night’s. In fact, if I’m honest, I only changed one course, and that was the main. If it ain’t broke then don’t fix it I say. Unfortunately the timing was the same, which meant fasting today until 2pm (hashtag:dejavu).
I have decided that no wine has taken the fun out of Friday Funday. Yes Diary, I know that’s a touch dramatic. I must away, CI channel is calling my name.
Day Twenty-One: Sunday July 21st
What a spectacular weekend it has been Diary. Oh the things I have achieved Diary!
I joined Instagram yesterday Diary. In case you’re wondering it’s essentially an album of your life, only you don’t put your real life on there, you put the life you want people to think that you lead. So Diary, mine is going to be all about sunrises, pics will be a bit blurry, cos they’ll be taken as I run (hashtag:gettingfit) and inspirational quotes about how bad things walk out so that good things can walk in, only that the things seem good until you realise they were worse than the bad thing that is now out of sight on the road out of your life (hashtag:instaquote).
So I’ve got 7 followers and I’m following 722, including all of my favourite reality TV stars, and even my not so favourite ones. I’ve posted one pic. And because I want people to think that I’m hashtag:cleanandlean and hashtag:instaglam and hashtag:totallygotmylifetogether, the pic is of me, in bed, with two of my cats. I’m wearing a negligee, lace of course, with a face full of natural looking make up and my hair falling in soft curls around my face. OK, I’m wearing flannel PJ’s (red with white hearts), my hair is in a top knot and the only reason I’m wearing make up is cos I was too lazy to wash off yesterday’s (hashtag:recipeforadultacne).
So that’s one thing I can tick off the bucket list: post an unflattering pic of yourself on Instagram, add a couple of cats to cement your rep as a crazy cat lady (hashtag:CCL), and watch the likes roll in!
Also this morning Diary, I dug out my pirated Les Mills DVDs and did a bit of Body Pump. Hold. Me. Back. Had a private audience of two felines who watched me huff and puff and grunt and groan my way through release #70 (hashtag:fitisthenewskinny).
The only thing Diary, with it being the weekend, and me being sober and antisocial, by this afternoon, I would stop and consider walking across hot coals for a Rekorderlig cider. Seriously. There’s only one thing for it: I’ll paint my nails, rendering myself motionless and helpless for the better part of two hours. Good thinking.
Day Forty: Monday August 19th
It’s been some time since we spoke. It’s nothing personal, it’s not you, it’s me. I just needed some time out to focus on myself. I’ve had some things that I needed to sort through. Don’t cry. We can still be friends.
Well I made it. Well and truly. Blew Dry July out of the water. I was so under the pump with an event, that I didn’t realise that Dry July was over until the afternoon of August 1st. After sorting 5 pallets of food for donation to local charities (hands down, the most rewarding thing I have ever done – will admit to tearing up at least four times), I sat down in the boys’ smoko room with the bottle of Lake Chalice Sauvignon Blanc that I planted in their fridge…and I was too tired to even open the screw top.
I did celebrate a week later. With two bottles of Jacob’s Creek Moscato Rose. In my room. On my own. Watching a Geordie Shore marathon on MTV. That show is so much funnier when you’re almost as cut as the characters. I think I’ve found a new hobby.