Well, tickle my tits till Friday!

In the film “Shirley Valentine”, the young version of Shirley declares “Well, tickle my tits till Friday!” I have no idea what this means, but I think it’s got a wonderful ring to it and I say it when I’m over-excited. I’ve been saying it a lot in the last few days.

I’m awfully excited.

First of all, today marked my first experiments with hair spray. I may have sprayed it around a bit more than necessary, but there are few substances that can make me feel as much of a 1950s starlet as hairspray. Next step: a dressing table with an upright mirror surrounded by light-bulbs.

My hair has been at this horrible in-betweeny stage for too long now, looking a bit like a cow-pat when gelled and making me look like a 70-year-old when not. I’ve trimmed the sides and tried (using a comb, hairspray and the power of prayer) to encourage it to stand up straight at the top.

My hair excites me. 

Secondly, I had my second (New Testament) WeightWatchers weigh-in today. I was very pleased with myself walking in the door – I knew I’d stuck to my diet. I knew I’d lost weight. And I had. Ten and a half pounds (4.75 kg) gone this week. That brings my weight down to 24 stone 4.5 pounds (340.5 pounds or 154.4 kgs).

My measurements, for the sake of completeness, are: My neck is 17.5 inches/ 44.7 cm, my chest is 52 inches/ 132.1 cm, my arm is 16.75 inches/ 42.5 cm, my waist is 59.5 inches/ still too big for the metric side of my tape, and my thigh is 28 inches/ 71.1 cm. Mixed results – chest measurement is down significantly, but waist is the same if not bigger.

A very good result though. And more importantly, I think I actually believe that I’ll keep this up.

My weightloss excites me. 

Thirdly, it’s time to come out of the closet about something. I have a secret love. Of meetings. I love meetings, I love committees, I love making suggestions and arguing points back and forth, I love making a plan or a scheme. I love being one of a group of people who decide to hit the ground running, or push the boat out.

I was on a million committees when I was an undergraduate, but I haven’t been on many since. On Monday, we had our first meeting of the Warden and his Assistants. I volunteered for everything. I had “ideas”. I put myself out there. I had a total committee hard-on.

My committee meeting excites me. 

I think, I hope, I think I’m moving into my new Assistant Warden flat tomorrow evening. I’m not holding my breath, because I thought I was moving in there this evening too. I CANNOT WAIT. Three whole rooms all for me!

My own space. For me. I’m going to Cork this weekend to bring up some of my things that I packed up when I moved out of my cottage a year and a half ago. I don’t want to bring up too much stuff, but you can rest assured that I’m putting my own stamp on that place.

And a kitchen of my own. I let my food insecurities run riot this year and I haven’t used a fridge or a cooker in a year. It’s going to be epic.

I will be a Connor who cooks. And you’re ALL invited for dinner.

My new flat excites me. 

This summer, I have been disgusted at my own lack of motivation and at how badly I coped with life in general. That’s all changed.

Last week, I put up a to-do list on the wall. It had twenty-eight things to do on it. I HAVE TICKED THEM ALL. I have done my tax forms. I’ve sent photos of myself to people who need them. I have applied for teaching hours. I have standardised myself to do a hundred different exams. I have put a plan for studying Irish in place. I have applied for the grant. I have written module descriptors and conference proposals and I’ve printed off this entire blog and started looking at ways of getting myself published. I have fixed my beard trimmer and brought my diary up to date. I have cleaned the bathroom floor.  I HAVE TICKED ALL THE THINGS.

My getting stuff done excites me.

I have finally sorted my clothes (one of my Gok resolutions from last month). After three failed attempts, I have packed the clothes that make me feel sad into a charity bin. My wardrobe is half-empty. But I no longer own a plain navy blue tie. Or a plain navy blue fleece. Or a plain black polo shirt. Or a plain grey-blue t-shirt. I still hate most of my clothes. They’re as nice as a 59-inch waist will allow. But just you wait. Just you wait.

My half-empty wardrobe excites me. 

Tickle my tits till Friday!

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1 Response to Well, tickle my tits till Friday!

  1. Rachael says:

    Looking good, Connor. Ticking off ALL THE THINGS never fails to be exciting!

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