Thank you to all the old followers of my previous blog for joining me in this new chapter, and welcome to all those who are starting this new journey with me.
My age is creeping up on me. I will 24 in a few weeks.
"I'm too old to do shit like this," I told Harry when I woke up in his bed a week ago. It's true, I am, it's not the life I want to lead anymore - it never was.
The problem with me is that in all my 24 years of life, I don't think I've ever learnt any lessons from my multitude of mistakes. I am disappointed in myself, because I know that Harry will become one in a long line of men who wanted a piece of me, but didn't want all of me - and like all the men before him, I will blindly continue in my teenage fantasy that he will put a ring on my finger.
- Ok I don't want to marry the guy after having spent one night with him - but it doesn't mean to say that I haven't thought about him every day and obsessed about when I will see him next.
It's Rob's birthday in two weeks, and although he hasn't confirmed the plans, as one of his best mates, it's pretty much a dead cert that Harry will be there.
This has sparked off the player in me - the Game player that is.
I mentioned the Game two posts back, and here is a prime example. A target, a strategy, a challenge: Harry, starve, get the guy.
The foundations of my eating disorder grew out of these little games I played - the challenge of attracting a new man, the thrill of squeezing into a brand new dress, the adrenaline of looking my best and winning. I've never been able to starve just for the sake of it, I have to have an end goal in sight with a prize to win if I can be thin and beautiful enough.
And I love it. I can't say I don't love it, because I do, I love it so much. I live for this.
It's fucked up, I know, but... I love it.
Game plan until Rob's birthday: Week One - Vegetables and Juice, Week Two - Juice only.
Yeah I'll probably have one or two patchy days, but I'm going to love every second of it, buzzing off the energy of knowing that in two weeks I'll be wearing that dress, making Harry's head turn, thinking only of that end goal to get me through.... and when it all comes crashing down, well, then I pick up the shattered pieces and sick myself back together again, wobbling precariously until another target promises me another exciting challenge.
I've started reading 'Liar's Poker', which is about a trader's experience working for Salomon Brothers Investment Bank back in the '80s. I've read other books of a similar genre before and was disgusted at the caricatures I found between the pages - and although I know these monsters do exist in those high-rise glassy offices, I also seem to have convinced myself that such sickeningly greedy and immoral fat-cats are so rare they are the stuff of legend. Perhaps I am too naive.
The curious cat in me wants to dig down deeper into this world. I want to meet more of them, I want to understand their culture, their mindset, I want to see that they are human...
truth be told,
I want to be a part of it.
So I have this job, and it's great. I get to travel across Europe, the Middle East and North Africa meeting clients, I get to learn about trade and investment, I get to talk with Senior Economists, Strategists and Policy Makers, I get to understand how the players play risk and ratings in their card games to build empires. And sure, I absolutely love it.
I jump out of bed at the crack of dawn wired for the start of another day. I can't believe it. I used to be impossible to drag out of bed. Of course there are shitty boring parts to the job as well, but it's not enough to hinder my energy.
But... who am I really, what do I do?... I don't work for an Investment Bank, I don't work for a City Law Firm, therefore I am nobody.
In my opinion, because I am neither a banker or a lawyer, I am nothing. I have not made it.
This job, for which I worked so hard for and for which I feel so incredibly blessed to have been given is just a stepping stone to where I eventually want to be.
All I ever dreamt of since I was a little girl was 'making it'.
But I fucked up my life, I concentrated too hard on having fun and looking my best while the graduates who have now passed through the gates of these prestigeous institutions were concentrating on completing internships and winning academic prizes.
Losing years of myself to depression and an eating disorder was unfortunate. But I can't change the past. The way I look at it now is simply that I just have to wait a few years extra before I too can pass through those gates of success and status. This job is my stepping stone.
But the job itself is not enough. I have a 2:1 Literature degree. Even with the experience I will gain in this job, my degree means that in the world of big-swinging dicks I am qualified for nothing. So I have to go back and study part time. As much as I'd love to study Finance and get myself into an Investment Bank I know I don't have a good enough head for figures. So I'm going back to study Law and to get myself into a top City Law Firm and maybe once I'm there I can specialise in Banking and Finance Law.
Everything is in the right place now, everything is in the right place.
Harry has spurred me on in this game too. Because deep down, I know he'll reject me, and in a few years time, I want to meet him again across a boardroom table and look him in the eyes with a look that says: You thought you ran this City and could walk all over me - but anything you can do I can do better.
I have so much to prove.
Is it a game or is this my own personal war?
Hillary Clinton meme
9 months ago