I’ve always imagined myself as secretly being a bath fan, my dream bath scenario involving masses of big white fluffy bubbles, candles, great music and a large glass of Vin. I found out today that like most things, the dream is better than the reality. The Good Doctor bet me one whole pound that I would fit in to the tub, stipulations being that I wanted to fit like a ‘normal’ person so no hips getting wedged creating a dam for the water. I did a trial run of getting in to the bath fully clothed and bloody hell, I fit! I ran a nice hot bubbly bath and sank in to the tub…
I might now fit width wise in to our huge made for decadence tub but I’m still about a foot and a half too long – bugger! I can now confirm after 16 or so bath free years that although chuffed as nuts that I can hop in the tub when I want, I’m a shower girl through and through. Because I’m a lanky streak of piss I could either have the top or bottom half of me in the water which meant that while 1/2 of me was maxxin’ and relaxin’, the other 1/2 was freezing! I negotiated with the Good Doctor for a reduced rate on our bet, we eventually settled on me owing him 50 English pence as I fit and had a bath but hated it!
A few of us went over to Cornflake’s flat for birthday celebrations and Louby had cooked 3 types of curry, baked two cakes and had bought in everyones favourite drinks. She’s definitely the hostest with the mostest! They gave me a small bowl rather than a large plate and made jokes about how I should be eating with kids colourful plastic cutlery to match my kiddie size portion, the cheeky fuckers! Sadly, Pouchie got ouchie and I ended up christening their en-suite with my finest Chewbacca impressions. Twice.
I figured out pretty early on that vomit was going to play quite a role in my post op life, and it’s one thing to hug the toilet in the privacy of your own gaff but quite another to visit the shiny new flat of your friends that you’ve not seen for over a month and empty your stomach in their pristine white bathroom.
Although I was in the company of friends who’ve seen me absolutely shit faced, hungover beyond all belief and dressed as a giant purple monster I was totally and utterly mortified! I wanted the ground to swallow me whole, I mean it doesn’t show much gratitude to your host to yak up all their home cooked lovingly prepared food now does it. I made sure to send a text to them thanking them and apologising for the impromptu gastric explosion and the response was so sweet and loving it actually brought a tear to my eye because it made me appreciate my friends and our friendships in all their glory.
It’s a bloody fantastic feeling knowing your friends are proud of you and love you enough to tell you not to apologise, ever.