My Life = Dancing Queen

Freedom.

Fucking finally.

Last Monday marked the end of my servitude to the hospitality industry. There are probably things I will miss, but they’re things like stealing food from work and being able to swear loudly and frequently. These things I can still do, because I still have a key. JUST JOKING. Not that I have a key, I do, but its just so I can use the skip out the back to dump my rubbish in (we are currently moving house and there’s some things even Salvos wont take). And of course I can and will still swear a fuckload. I ceremoniously burnt my chefs uniforms, something I probably should have done even without leaving the industry, wearing the same whites for 6 years is a bit AIDS. The last week has been one of pure elation, besides the 6am starts and cycling to various gyms in 35 degree heat. My chef life entailed both extreme heat and early starts, the difference being with my new job I don’t fantasize about hurting myself with various equipment so that I can go home (via the hospital). This would be easy to do at a gym too. ANYWAY. My point is, sometimes getting what you have absolutely busted your ass to achieve is every bit as wonderful and amazing as you hoped for. AW.

Ages ago I saw that speech that Jim Carrey did about his Dad, you know the real inspirational Ask The Universe one. Hes like, you can fail at doing something you hate too, so may as well make a go of what you really want. So fucking true. I was never an amazing chef, I once boiled sesame seeds by accident, mistaking them for quinoa, and my general response to any criticism, constructive or otherwise, was I DON’T CARE. I hated anyone trying to talk food wank to me or even ask my advice about something they were cooking. Normally I love knowing more than people (who doesn’t lets be honest) but in this case I think I would be more interested in the AFL scores (big call). I wore the same jacket for 6 years, that’s some serious lack of care factor, and the one knife I owned wouldn’t have cut through my soft wrist skin no matter how many times I thought about it.

In contrast, I currently own 6 pairs of training shoes and have a savings account just for future courses I want to do. On my birthday wish list is a new fit bit and PT sessions with my new boss, or just anything with a tick on it, preferably lifting shoes (HINT HINT. If someone could forward this to my Mum that would be sick, she doesn’t have Facebook). I have goals upon goals and anyone or thing that gets in their way is getting a smooth jab/cross to the jaw, which I will be accredited for in my upcoming boxing instructor course. Basically I have no choice but to own this shit. Jim Carrey, along with being my childhood dream-husband (alongside Rowan Atkinson, bizarrely, least I wasn’t shallow) is one inspirational motherfucker (STILL SWEARING). ASK THE UNIVERSE people, but if it tells you to do a sequel to Dumb&Dumber, don’t, coz it was shithouse and I fell asleep.

PS My birthday is on March 8.