I have just realised that I’m no longer a twenty-something as per my blog description! Truth is, I knew that when I set this little thing up a couple of months ago, but it just sounded better that way ;-).
This time last weekend I had my thirtieth birthday party. And I tell you what, I wasn’t half dreading it! Not the age bit, that doesn’t bother me at all. But I was genuinely so stressed about not being well for it! I had arranged for a meal with my family and closest friends in the early evening, followed by drinks till the early hours with even more lovely friends. I was SO excited to see everyone and have all of my favourite people all in one place. Yet I was dreading the thought of:
- Feeing sick and run down: Thursday is my ‘Chemo day’ where I take my methotrexate which often leaves me feeling pretty ropey still. Friday I took my second Humira injection (the biological med) which I’m finding wipes me out and makes me feel pretty tired. I do think it’s making a difference though on the whole (will leave for a further blog)
- Stressing about trying not to stress: My scalp psoriasis had come back the week before and I was trying my hardest not to stress about that not clearing up. But – with a bottle of my fave shampoo ready to go I was looking much better.
- The Cinderella problem: I was feeling very sorry for myself that I had been unable to find any nice shoes to make me feel special and glam and party-ready. I tend to have just two options when it comes to nice footwear these days – and they come in the form of boots – black or brown. And heels are out of the question with the PSA in my toe joints. Any hint of height and I’m in agony. Not very exciting to say the least and I just was not feeling in the mood to party as I was too busy dreading how bad my feet and joint might hurt.
- Burning out early: unlike all of my friends I have to remember that I just can’t be on my feet all day doing a lot of the things I used to, IF I want to be up and on my feet all night. I felt I was turning 80 not 30. So I was annoyed that I was having to minimise my day plans to ensure I was getting enough rest to last the evening.
But when it came down to it, I put those worries aside; I got my hair ‘did, got the contouring pallette out, opened up a new dress, put on my faithful boots (I went for the black ones), and went for it. Screw you PSA!
We finally made it to bed at 3.30 am. I had the BEST night – and I wasn’t even in pain the next day (apart from waking up with sore thighs from too much slut-dropping! Though I was more impressed that I was there on the floor with my favourite girls dancing like we were back in our early twenties!).
Bring on the dirty thirties, and all that it throws at me 👊🏼.