Cropped Joggers

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I cannot begin to pretend that 6:00am starts work well as a parent. I wonder why I am ambitious as I hit snooze for the third time this morning. I eventually bellyflop out of bed, startled that I now have twenty minutes to get myself ready. I then gaze apologetically at the make-up and jewellery that I had presented beautifully, with all good intentions of using, the previous night. When I had been over-dosing on caffeine, over tiredness and slight insanity. 


It is pitch black outside and there I am every morning, losing my battle against the ice as I slide, ungracefully, across the dirty pavement. I didn’t have the time to try my brand new work trousers on in the shop, Diego would have been appalled. He’d have told me off! So I purchased them anyway, disposing of the label and receipt. 

Today I gaze hurriedly around, with ankles on display, I begin to thrash, hoisting them back up. Too short and too big. Yet I’m not throwing money away, so here I am. Embracing my individuality. In a new style of cropped jogger.

I’ve seen better moments.  


Still, I’m feeling reasonably brilliant as I’ve bagged myself a second job, in the place I love. More money. More targets. I am aiming to create a better ‘me’. Goal one: Aim high. Goal two: Cut out ‘over-stressing’. Goal three: develop an earlier bedtime routine. Well, maybe I’ll just actually go to bed. Let’s start small.

My new job is going fantastically. I have proven to myself, and everybody that ever doubted me that I am capable of anything that I put my mind to. I am not a morning person, I never have been. Yet these last two weeks have changed me. My new job gives me purpose.

Boneata Bell

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