OH, I was so busy thinking about myself that I forgot I had to write this.
I’ve discovered that now I am a part-time fat-fighter, I have become even more self-obsessed than usual, which, in my case, is quite the achievement.
However, it was during a casual lunch with friends when the topic of shopping (and not fat-fighting, as I might have led you to believe by my introduction; I’ll attempt to join the dots at some stage over the next few hundred words) briefly arose.
I mentioned, quite off the cuff, that shopping for new things was one of the greatest pleasures in my life.
That was when a male associate of mine (for the purpose of this column we shall call him Dan, although that’s actually his name) said something along the lines of “you must lead a soulless life then”.
Horrified I was, horrified, not to mention terribly indignant.
My life is not soulless, I tried to convince myself, as I stood outside a shopfront pretending to look at the clothes in the window, but actually looking at my own reflection in the glass.
I lead an incredibly fulfilling life, I tried to convince myself, brimming with parties, friends, family, casual drinking, an occasional and utterly pointless trip to the gymnasium, work, a relationship and shopping (which, I’ll have you know, takes up a surprising amount of time).
Sure I could visit an old person from time to time or something like that, but, generally speaking, I prefer not to feel any emotion towards people other than disdain because, you know, feelings are for fools.
Also, I have two grandmamas, and they fulfil my old-person quota perfectly.
And yes, I suppose I could do charity work in the evenings, but really, I enjoy spending my evenings thinking about myself, so I just don’t see how I could possibly devote any more time to thinking about others.
I could, perhaps, look for a hobby.
Stamp collecting: that could be an option, except I firmly believe that people who collect stamps also enjoy collecting cats, and I have little or no time for cats, so, unfortunately, that is out of the question.
Massage: I could perhaps do a course, given that I have a dickey right shoulder, but then again, one can’t massage oneself, and I’m not entirely sure I’d enjoy the rigmarole associated with massaging others. Also, I have a wonderful lady I go to who solves all my shoulder issues.
Aromatherapy: I’d quite enjoy this, but again, I’d fear my interest would wane once I’ve uncovered all that is to be known about the different scents.
Photography: yes, yes, but I have several friends who are extremely talented photographers and I fear if I took up the art I would become overly competitive and it would ruin our relationships.
Rock climbing: this is simply not an option, I’m afraid, given my horrific fear of heights. Escalators, stairs, balconies, cliffs, basically anything that I can fall from. Planes are fine.
Team sports: no. These are not an option. Team sports lead to a pack mentality, and I sail a lone ship. Also, I would become enraged if there were people on the team better than myself, and given my propensity for clumsiness and a slight issue with me being unfit, I’m afraid team sports and myself will never be a union.
Music: no. Well … I’d love to be able to play an instrument but I’m afraid I would simply get far too frustrated with being a novice.
Really, I’m afraid there is simply nothing I could commit my time to at the moment, other than part-time fat-fighting, of course. (I told you I’d bring it back.)