I pee in the shower.
Oh come on, who doesn’t? You who is smirking at your screen right now – yes, you – don’t lie to me.
I sit in bed and listen to dramatic film soundtracks and cry my little heart out.
I may or may not have done this to the soundtrack to The Lion King. Yes, Hans Zimmer is the king of plagiarism but it’s still sob-worthy, okay?
I sit in front of a mirror and play with my tummy flab.
Sometimes I hunch over and make faces with all my rolls. And do voices to go along with them. Anyone else?
I google myself and wonder what it would be like to have the paparazzi spreading rumours about you.
The size of my ego is perfectly normal and healthy, I promise. *googles past achievements and wonders what kind of scandal I’m most likely to be part of*
I browse Amazon and Etsy for hours, making lists of everything I want to get but never end up buying anything.
Okay, sometimes I get one item on the list. Or two. Or more if it’s pay day and I’m feeling impulsive.
I put music on and dance to it – whilst watching myself in the mirror.
It’s a strangely masochistic thing to do when you have dance moves like mine. Also one of the many reasons I’m not a fan of clubbing – when I do go, my go-to move is to jump up and down.
I sing along to my favourite tunes… and wonder why it never quite sounds the same in front of someone else.
It’s strange how you can DIY karaoke (backing track and all) with yourself one minute and sound worse than your neighbour’s cat the next.
I pull the most hideous faces I can muster and take selfies.
Analysing yourself at your worst is a strangely fascinating process. It’s almost as if I want to stop but I literally can’t look away.
I sniff myself and wonder how pheromones have the power to fool some people into thinking I smell nice.
Much more pleasant alternative to Novichok in that perfume bottle, wouldn’t you agree?
I narrate whatever I’m doing at the time in the most dramatic voice I can muster.
“Before the cheese can take charge and amalgamate with the bread, the egg must be cooked to that delicate balance of runny and fluffy. The epitome of culinary perfection. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where the true beauty of the humble egg and cheese sandwich lies.” I am insane, aren’t I? Diction is everything though.
Please, please leave a comment below if you do any of these things. Please. I refuse to be the only one.
Disclaimer: All images used in this post have been obtained from Pixabay under a Creative Commons License and edited on Canva exclusively for thenellybean.