The party was okay, slightly better than I expected. I didn’t get any of those comments, though I did receive a few appraising looks from some of the older ladies there. I was on edge all day though, expecting someone to say something. When my godmother spotted me and called me over I was worried, but she only chastised me about not visiting her, then gave me £50 as she used to do when I was younger. I had to accept the money to be polite.

With my brother’s girlfriend and one of my cousins around, I wasn’t the only young woman of ample proportions, which probably stopped me from being a target.

Every so often I would retreat to my bedroom, though I wasn’t always alone in there as my brother and uncle would come up and ask me to burn a dvd or discuss some TV show. My brother’s friend’s wife said that I should have spent more time downstairs, as she’d barely seen me. I felt a bit guilty when she said that, but I honestly felt really uncomfortable trying to socialise with all the people who were around, and had to fight the urge to escape. Also if I hung around downstairs for too long, I ended up becoming a waitress, taking food orders between the domino table and the kitchen.

Talking about the domino game, it was quite amusing when the men moved the table nearer to the house after a while because they were getting bitten by mosquitos!

My dad ruled the turntable with his old school reggae, until my brother slipped in some modern tunes as a respite from the “dead music”.

Although mum was exhausted by the end of the day, she seemed happy with the outcome, which was the most important thing. However, I did cringe a little bit when she mentioned repeating the exercise next year.

I’d love a back massage right now, my body is aching from hoovering the entire house after a long day at work. Of course I should have done it yesterday when I had the day off work, but of course I am Queen Procrastinator and I couldn’t summon the strength to do it at that time.

My bedroom is a tip, well my bed is anyway. I put loads of junk on it to force myself to organise it (i.e. hide it all in the bottom of the wardrobe) for the party tomorrow.

My cousin, M, sent me a text message saying that he’s looking forward to all the good food that’s going to be on offer. I’m glad that he’s coming, as he’s a very cool dude and an ally.

For the last few weeks I’ve had a spectre lurking in the corner of my consciousness. My mum has decided to have a garden party for her birthday on Saturday, and I’m dreading it.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for my mother and want her to enjoy her birthday celebrations, but I am not looking forward to spending a whole day socialising with relatives. Being totally honest, I am particularly not looking forward to being ridiculed about my weight. Two years ago my godmother made a comment about my weight, when I was actually the lightest I’d been for many years. Though she’s not a slim woman she felt it was okay to put me down in front of other people. It hurt me that instead of asking about my job or my interests she felt that this was the only thing she wanted to discuss with me.

Now I’m heavier than I was two years ago, and I fully anticipate that she or someone else will say something about it. I need a strategy to get through the day, to ensure that any such negativity doesn’t drive me crazy.

A few days ago I decided to tell my mum that I was happy to help her to setup the party, but I didn’t want to be there when the guests arrived. She was upset, and said that she wanted me to be there. I told her my worries, and she said that if someone says something hurtful to me I should just smile and make a swift exit.

Do you have any suggestions?

Thank God it’s Friday night and I
just-just-just-just-juuuuuuust got paid
(money, money, money, money…)
yeah, ohh…

[CHORUS:]
Just got paid, Friday night
Party hoppin’, feelin right
Booties shakin’, all around
Pump that jam, while I’m gettin’ down

Play this video with your volume on high and remember the days when boy bands could rock a stage like this (wasn’t Justin cute with that curly hair - ahhh):

You’d think that someone I’ve known since 1996 would know better than to invite me to a karaoke party!

And it’s not the first time. A standard party is bad enough, but a sing-along one sounds like hell to me!

Right now I should probably be at my workplace’s Summer Party, but instead I’m staying in. I live about an hour away from there, and as it’s in London zone 1, I have to spend several quid to get there (which is okay when I’m actually being paid to be there).

That’s not the main reason that I’m not going, of course. I have not named this blog The Urban Recluse for no reason. I’m not going because I don’t want to suffer through tedious small talk with people who just see me as the Admin Monkey (no offence to administrators or monkeys).

I can imagine myself standing around on the outskirts of the gathering, nursing a glass of orange juice, my gaze constantly returning to the clock on the wall. Is it okay to leave after half an hour or an hour? I ask myself.

When the 59th minute finally approaches, I collect my jacket and head towards the exit.
“You’re not leaving now, are you? The fun is just beginning!” says some inebriated partygoer.

I mumble something about feeling unwell or having to meet someone, and slip away.

Why bother going in the first place?

Yesterday I went to my friend Miguel’s place for a New Year’s get-together. He had invited a few of his other friends for food and relaxation. I was rather nervous, as I usually am when going to such an event where I don’t know anyone apart from the host.

His friend, Charlene and her 3 year old son were staying there for the holiday weekend, as well as Miguel’s mate, Rick, who is currently living in the front room for the time being. Later on, another friend Chantal turned up. We all feasted on chicken, rice, potato, etc. and chatted about random stuff.

In the late evening, after Chantal had left and the child had gone to bed, we somehow started talking about sex. I would call myself “open-minded” about sex, although I don’t sleep around I’m quite open to hearing about other’s exploits and adventures… Charlene was rather more forthcoming about her activities, boasting about oral sex, anal sex, sex during her period, female ejaculation (hers), receiving a lapdance from a girl in a stripclub, getting caught being naughty with a fella behind a curtain in the aforementioned nightclub, etc. Somehow she assumed that I was equally sexually active and was rather embarrassed when I later revealed that I haven’t been serious with a guy for a few years (though I dated a couple of times last year).

The discussion ventured onto the subject of “size”. Miguel and Charlene were adamant that it had to be big (at least 7 inches), as a hetero guy Rick didn’t express an opinion, and I told them that size didn’t matter to me, I was more concerned with other issues. Charlene didn’t believe me at first, but Miguel confirmed that I was looking for a deeper connection in a love interest.

I had fun and I didn’t want to leave, but I left at 11.45pm. Luckily the tube was still running and it didn’t take too long for me to get home.

Today, I haven’t done a thing. I’ve got two more days of freedom, I’m going to enjoy them. Over and out.