Life on The Nexplanon

Contraceptives are weird. There are penis sacks and vagina anchors, and pills that builds a wall around the entryway of the twinkle.
I thought I was well informed of the many different types of pill, but I have literally only just discovered there are three types of pill, one of which ‘thickens cervical mucus.’ Doesn’t that sound fun?

When did all of these methods appear? Now there is a ring you can stick up your lady bits and it stays there, chilling and killing sperm.
At school I was only shown the vagina anchor (IUD), the penis sheath (Condom) and the morning after pill.

All of which didn’t appeal to me. I’m far too forgetful for any sort of pill you have to take regularly, and I have a general rule that nothing should be shoved up your va-jay-jay. Especially anything that resembles a corkscrew.

So, I got the implant when I was 18. I still don’t 100% understand what it is that is inside me, but I have the image of one of those electronic air fresheners. But instead of spraying freshener, it sprays hormones in me every morning. Then the hormones float around my body until they find sperm to destroy.

The side effects haven’t been too bad, but they haven’t been non-existent. These are the few that I get:

• Irregular Periods – I did have these anyway, but it has made them worse. I often go without bleeding for a few months, and then spend a whole month on. This side effect is not for the weak.

• Weight gain – Or am I just fat and making excuses?

• Swelling when I’m ‘on.’ – This is a pain in the arse. My jeans go up 2 sizes, which means every month I end up crying because I’m fat.

• Mood Swings – I often get happy but snappy. My boyfriend just throws chocolate at me when I’m like this, so it’s all good.

After being on the implant (Nexplanon) for three years, I decided that I would get it replaced when it expired. But, to do so, I had to get an appointment.

I moved Doctors when I came to university. I used to live in a tiny village, the nearest Doctors was in a small town (population 4000) so getting an appointment was not difficult. The population of where I live now is 71, 722.

Getting a Doctor’s appointment was next to impossible, I rang them at 8am every day for a week before getting one in three weeks’ time.

I also had to go and pick up the implant myself. I told myself before collecting it I wouldn’t look at it. Alas, curiosity got the best of me and within 30 seconds I had opened it. Have you ever seen an implant gun? The needle is a thing of nightmares. I wish I had never looked. Curiosity brutally murdered the cat, and I made the same mistake.

The day came of the appointment (at 8am, the sadistic buggers.) I was still sleepy when I arrived, and I couldn’t even find the surgery room.

Eventually the Doctor came and found me, wandering around like a little lost puppy.
He described what he was going to do (basically cut a hole into my arm and pull the old one out before shooting the new one in.) I tried not to listen for the sake of my sanity.

I lay down on the chair-bed-thing and he dug in. I went in knowing I was going to write this article, and I was going to take pictures. But when it came to it, I couldn’t even look. I pretend to be braver than I am, that’s just a fact about me as a person.

He was trying to talk to me casually and he slit my arm open and stuck tweezers in me. I guess he was trying to distract me, but asking me ‘whether it’s going to snow Christmas day?’ doesn’t make me forget that you are literally inserting a machine into my arm. Nice try, Doc, but I know what you’re doing.

Overall, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I think the idea of getting it put in was a lot worse than the practice.

In conclusion, I wish I was gay.

Side note: Sorry to all those that follow The Jist. This will be my next article up, but with added content! (Basically I’ve done some doodles and diagrams, so that you can all see why I failed GCSE art.)

Christmas Ad awards and Sausage Massacres

It’s over.

The Veganism that almost destroyed me is over, I’m back to my meat devouring self and I have never been so relieved.

I actually have energy now. Well, as much energy as I had before the Vegan thing, which wasn’t much.

My first meal back was meant to be a feast. I bought everything on the McDonald’s menu, but felt sick after eating a single cheeseburger.

I am not usually a sharer of food, but I gave my friends the rest. Now I fear that they will want to share all my food, and I would like to take this moment to clarify:

It’s never going to happen.

Now that I’ve done that, I can move along and talk about what I’ve done this week…

Which is nothing interesting. Bloggers always seem to have money to go and do interesting things every week.

I wish I could go to Borneo and help Organgutans, or skydive in America. Alas, my budget only allowed me to get drunk one night and eat 3 cans of beans and sausage. (I think most people regret more than that when they get drunk, but it adds to how uninteresting I am.)

Aside from the sausage massacre, I’ve either been at work or in uni every day this week. I practically live at uni, in fact I have even started bringing a blanket. It helps me concentrate for some weird reason.

I am absolutely loving how festive everything is though, but like the rest of the nation, I am very disapointed in John Lewis’ Christmas Advert. I don’t care how much of a ‘treasure’ Elton John is, he is nothing compared to that animated bear and rabbit a few years ago.

So far, Aldi and Iceland are winning all the christmas awards from me. I mean, Iceland’s is so informative, well written and even cute.

And Aldi’s is about a carrot who stole the coca-cola truck and has a parsnip for a nemisis.

I feel like they’re opposite ends of the spectrum, but who doesn’t love a good carrot at Christmas?

Veganism turned me into a vampire

Have you ever had a bad idea?

Have your friends ever told you that your bad idea is, in fact, a good idea?

And have you proceeded to go ahead with the good-bad idea?

Then you know exactly how I feel this week.

Let me take you back two weeks. Me and Nat were sat in Wagamama’s, (The day of the cider incident,) and we were talking about the blog we’re working on for uni. (I will link it at the bottom. Self promotion ftw.)

I had no ideas apart from Disneyland reviews, and was facing a pretty bad writers block. Nat was saying that another member of our group wanted to do a Buzzfeed style article, like ‘I tried ….. for a week.’ She then suggested going raw vegan.

Now, even as stupid and stubborn as I am, I knew I could not go raw vegan. But, a few days later, I suggested veganism to the class.

Basically the response I got was: ‘Fuck no.’ from everyone except Nat, so on Tuesday we began our Vegan diets.

It was a huge mistake. I was excited and optimistic at first, but as soon as my body lost all the nutrients it had stored, I began to suffer. I am 4 days in and can see no hope or sign of happiness in this lifestyle.

Don’t get me wrong, I know I was an idiot for going straight from a meat-loving, coffee addicted devourer of cheese, to eating nothing but vegetables. But I’m an ‘all or nothing’ type of person, and I wouldn’t have stuck to it if I’d stopped eating one thing at a time.

The weird thing is, on my 4th day, the thought of beef makes me feel sick. I think I’ll have to wean myself back onto meat, which is a literal nightmare for me. Though for some strange reason, I do fancy venison. Maybe that’s because I want to get straight to blood? Has Veganisn turned me into a vampire? Who knows?

The other interesting thing is, when I’ve told people about this experiment, the meat eaters are the ones who have been most supportive.

Whether it’s because vegetarians think they could give dairy up easily, or that I’m dramatic because I eat meat, who knows?

I just think carnivors have more sympathy. They know how much they love meat (and, in this case, dairy) and they aknowledge that this shit it hard.

But, by far, the worst response I’ve had from this entire thing was by a vegan. Which baffles me.

One of my classmates, lets call him Doris, saw me with my packet of vegan cookies and Mylk. (God knows what was in that abomination. Anything that advertises itself as ‘grassy’ should not be eaten. By anyone or anything. Even a cow would hate it.)

Doris immediately assumed I was going to diss his lifestyle, which I wasn’t. Not until he said it, and my petty, nutrition deprived brain went: ‘Okay, I will.’

I started out this experiment to find out the impact on me and my health. I never started it because I knew I would hate it and could talk about it online. Even if that’s what I’ve ended up doing.

Anyway, Doris continued to say:

‘You can’t only eat vegan cookies and replacements for milk and call yourself a vegan. That’s not vegan.’

Normally, I’m not a confrontational type of person. I will just agree with people to keep the peace. But I was ready to sharpen my spear and go into full on war with Doris.

I replied with:

‘I’m not eating meat. I’m not eating dairy/eggs. I am, by defintion, a vegan.’

To which he shook his head at me, patronisingly.

Are vegans not allowed snacks?

I would understand if he was annoyed by the fact that I’m not doing it for animals, since he preaches his beleifs at everyone, despite never even visiting a farm.

But being annoyed because I was eating cookies??

I’m aware I sound bitchy right now, but this is the first time in adulthood that I’ve treated someone with respect and in return they knocked me down. And as a general human, that is not an okay thing to do.

Why can’t people just be nice to eachother, despite their beliefs?

I think my body has mostly suffered because I not only gave up meat and dairy, but also caffiene and sugar. I hate Coffee with soy/almond milk, and I was having 3+ cups a day before. I’m going through withdrawls of everything, so I recognise that I’m probably suffering more than an average vegan does.

You can read about what I’ve eaten, and how my body and brain has hated me for it, on my university blog: (The Jist.)

https://thejistmmu.wordpress.com/

The post won’t be up until I’ve finished the week (Tuesday) so you may want to give it a follow. Please. It would be nice.

I’m going to Disneyland as an adult and let me tell you, I will not ‘Let it Go.’

Before I start, I’d like to do a promo for the other blog I’m writing for, it’s a group project that I’m really excited about! Though this peice will be there, I promise there will be extra content that I won’t be put on here!

Give it a follow at:

https://thejistmmu.wordpress.com

Now, I have very exciting news…

The wise Peter Pan once said: ‘Keep adventuring and stay not a grown up’ and I honestly could not relate to anything more. Because, let’s face it, being an adult sucks.
Yes, I am legally old enough to drive. But do I? No, because I can’t afford to sell my soul away for the insurance.
Sure, I drink alcohol and do cool (sometimes sexy) adult stuff, but do I always regret it the morning after? Yes, yes I do.

As a semi-functioning human who tries her best, Disney has found a hole in my heart and filled it with something day-to-day life seriously lacks: magic.

I wasn’t enthusiastic about Disney as a kid, and when it got to the corny part of the movies where they’re all singing and dancing and I would cringe. Why are they singing? Make them stop. Why does that rat talk?

But now I know. Why shouldn’t the rat talk? And why can’t we all live happily-ever-after singing songs out the blue?

So my Mum bought a getaway to Disneyland for my 22nd birthday. That’s right folks, I’m going to where the literal magic happens and dragging my 13 year old sister with me. Nothing can stop the hype.

The thing I’ve found about planning the trip, is that there’s a lot of it for somewhere that’s meant to be fun. You need to know where you want to eat and what time you want to eat three months in advance.

To be honest, I eat when I want to eat, (which is probably far too much to be healthy.) I can’t even tell you what time my dinner is tonight. Or what time I’ll have lunch tomorrow.

I feel like a panda, sleeping my way through life and occasionally waking up to eat and, once in a blue moon, have sexy time.
Disneyland is trying to tame the wild panda in me, and so far, it’s bit of a rocky start. God knows how parents plan that far in advance, but I salute you.

I did book Inventions though, where you eat with, and meet up to 8 characters. Mickey is almost always there, since he is the most iconic mouse on the planet. I have such high hopes for meeting him, I tend to forget it’s a guy in a suit that was too short to get cast as a Prince.

When Mum first told me about the trip, I was excited. But then I realised the timing ties in with the Halloween festival, which means all the baddies are going to be out and about. Fuck Aurora, I’m meeting Maleficent and channelling my inner witch.

I have organised costumes, which is hard because you’re not allowed to dress as Disney characters, but you are allowed to dress like them (AKA: ’Disneybounding.’) So, I’ve bought Stitch and Angel onesies and I’m Disneybounding as Gaston, and Ruby is going as Jack the Skelington King.

Another thing I didn’t expect was the number of apps I’d have to download. The official Disneyland app, which tells me queue times and has a map of the park. The Photopass app, for all of the photo’s the professionals take. And then there’s Revolut, for emergency money in case I run out of cash. I feel like I’m definitely going to need a portable charger, or my phone is going to melt into my hands within an hour.

We are travelling by coach from Cumbria to Paris, overall it’s a gruelling 16 hour journey. At least there are plenty of alcoholic drinks being on board, it’ll be a miracle if I make it to Disneyland to be honest. We’re taking a blanket, snacks, books and the tablet so we won’t be bored or uncomfortable. I also have a onesie that my mum made for me, because she is a literal saint.

Of course, nothing is going to go to plan but I will update you all with everything I can next week.

Also, here’s a lovely quote to think about in the mean time:

‘I only hope that we never lose sight of one thing — that it was all started by a mouse.’ -Walt Disney

Puzzles, Garlic Bread and Surprise Parties

Guess what guys?

I am now officially 22, which means my bones are clicking and my hair is turning grey.

Okay, so I’m lying about that, but I am struggling to get out of bed. Though truthfully, I think it’s due to the bitter winter mornings that have made a sudden appearance, but it could also be my age. Which is why I have a jar of Nutella on my bedside table, ready to fuel me through the day.

I went back up north for my Birthday, it was nice to see my family and we all went to the pub. But my presents were questionable. My sister gave me those puzzles where you have to rearrange letters to make words. She told me however many I got right would be the amount of Euro’s she gave me for Disneyland. They were impossible. I spent all day, literally ALL DAY doing them and still couldn’t figure them out.

Then, about an hour later my mum gave me my second present which was a puzzle and a word search. At this point my brain was frazzled and even Google couldn’t help me. Turns out the wordsearch had nothing to do with anything and she ‘just wanted to keep me busy.’ Because, you know, I hadn’t already been busy all day with puzzles a 13 year old made.

I think I’m just bitter that my 13 year old sister outsmarted me. To be fair though, that doesn’t take much.

I still don’t know what my brother got me. When I got back from the pub I was pretty drunk and then he decided to give me his present. I unwrapped it, it was garlic bread.

But here’s the thing, about 3 years ago my family went for a meal at Nando’s. Jak had garlic bread with his meal.

The meal was great, very tasty, 10/10. But Jak went to the toilet and had a little bit of garlic bread left on his plate. And I mean a tiny bit, it was kind of like a crust.

Everyone had finished and the waitress came whilst he was in the toilet and took the plates away. Jak returned, disapointment in his eyes.

‘Where’s my garlic bread?’ He asked. And that’s when Mum said it. The thing that has haunted me for years:

‘Lucie ate it.’

I was confused. Betrayed. Horrified. But he believed her over my sincere disbelief. Everyone joined in. Ruby, Harley, Ian. They all plotted against me, and Jak is the type to hold grudges.

His birthday card to Ian said: ‘It must be hard living with a garlic bread theif.’

I have a notebook in my shower, on which he wrote ‘I steal garlic bread.’

He brings it up every. Single. Time we’re together.

So it seemed perfectly believable that he got me garlic bread for my birthday. So I put it in the freezer and forgot about it.

Until it was time for me to leave the next day. We popped into my mums work to say our goodbyes, and she asked me if I had the garlic bread for lunch. When I said no, she asked whether I was taking it home. I said ‘No. Because I trust you not to eat it and there’s no room in our freezer.’ To which she almost screamed: ‘You put it in the freezer?!’ Before dashing onto the phone to Ruby, telling her to get it out the freezer.

I still don’t know what is in that box, all I know is that it isn’t garlic bread and it isn’t freezable. I feel like this whole thing could have been avoided if they’d just given me my present like normal people.

When I got back to Crewe, celebrations with Ian began. We got a train to Alderley Edge to go to The Alchemist because I love cocktails. But when we got there, we found it had shut down in June. Thank god we had a meal booked at The Botanist after, so we just had a few drinks at their bar instead.

I don’t know how they make their Crispy Onion Petals but they are the literally food sent from above. We had a bowl of them each and some sausages, that was just for starter. I have a feeling I eat far too much, life would be so much cheaper if I hated food.

My birthday was on Wednesday, and Natalie’s birthday was on Friday. (Remember Natalie? My friend that can’t say no?) So Sadia, (Nat’s girlfriend) planned a surprise party for her. I thought it was a pretty good idea until I got there and remembered that Nat doesn’t like surprises, or attention. But she seemed to enjoy herself after she got over the initial hatred.

Sadia went all out, and got us a joint birthday cake. I mean, Natalie doesn’t like cake but since it was also for me I thought it was lovely and I will eat so much of it that I’ll hate cake until Christmas. Which isn’t that far away but would still be an accomplishment.

When they lit the candles all the fire alarms went off, so people went from singing to screaming. Turns out drunk people and fire alarms do not mix. Me and Nat then held hands and cut the cake like we were married, but watching the footage back, it wasn’t that graceful. It was mostly us trying to figure out how two people can hold one knife.

Today I had a spring autumn clean and bought some fake plants from Aldi, which is why the photo at the top seems random. I have this thing were if I get really stressed, I will clean frantically.

Nothing can stop me doing it, Ian has tried many times. I think it’s just my way of having a mental breakdown.

The plants were a bonus because I don’t trust myself with real plants, and they’re perfect for the calming atmosphere of the bathroom. Or at least, that’s I told myself when I was convincing myself to buy them. I almost didn’t because I thought: ‘No Lucie. You don’t need them.’

But I’m glad I did in the end.

The Sweet Taste of… Bonfires?

Hello! It’s me again, which is no surprise considering this Blog is literally named after me, and all it’s content is about me. In real life I’m not this self-obsessed, I promise.

It’s been a busy week, between working and my friends arriving back from various parts of the country. University is weird when your accent adapts easily. One minute I’m talking in my usual posh accent (which is very misleading) and the next I’m using proper northern dialect. Have you ever heard a southerner say ‘Gaa’n?’ Turns out that’s for a reason. I sound like an idiot.

So, in a proper student fashion, we went out to the uni bar. I’m not a clubbing person, my body moves in strange directions when I’m drunk so I prefer sitting down and rambling.

The uni bar is good because you can dance, or you can drunkenly sit and drink more and more until you want McDonald’s. I like Observing as other female students ‘twerk’ in the direction of anyone that likes it. I thought the twerking phase of life was well and truly over, but apparently not. Do people actually find it attractive? Isn’t it a bit forward? I feel like arse moves should be saved for later on in the night, when you’re alone. Like the final part of a mating ritual rather than the first thing you do. Slut dropping is fun though, but only because it’s so dramatic that it’s more about confidence than sexual lore.

I got very drunk, but managed to not throw up, which is a big achievement for me. I think I’ll put the excessive drinking on hold until my birthday now, which is only like 2 weeks away, but still.

It has reached that time of year where the rain is pouring down relentlessly. And I love it. There’s that crisp taste in the air that’s refreshing, but not enough to freeze your teeth like it does in winter. I live for oversized jumpers and blankets and cups of tea with an occasional hot chocolate.

I’m also basic enough to love Pumpkin Spice Latte’s, or as Coasta’s have decided to call them: ‘Bonfire Latte’s.’ Like, what? When has anyone drank something and gone ‘Mmm, I can really taste the bonfire in that?’

Costa needs to up their game, first reducing the White Hot Chocolate to a tiny weeny cup obviously meant for hamsters, and now this. The only reason I keep forgiving them is because the one back home is inside Waterstones, and there’s something so cosy about a cafe surrounded by books.

I have just remembered the cup of tea I made, it has gone cold so I will bid you farewell as I go and make another one.

Simon says: ‘You’ll never escape.’

Okay, first thing’s first:

Yes, I haven’t written anything in like two weeks.

Yes, I am ashamed.

And yes, it will happen again. I could make plenty of excuses as to why I Hobbit-holed myself (Well, I am never saying that again.) But the truth is that I’m lazy and up until now, I’ve done well to hide that fact.

But fear not, as I have returned with stories of dark rooms and floating chairs. That’s right folks, I got myself locked in another escape room. This seems to be becoming a problem, and I should probably seek help. I would say it’s because I love working as a team and bonding with people, but in reality I probably have some sadistic dark side that has become BFF’s with my competitive demon.

This time it was with a new company, Lucardo (The name kind of reminds me of that blue ninja – fox Pokemon.) and I had a fresh team: Ian, his brother Ali, and my sister, Ruby. To be honest, I had no faith in us. I thought we’d just end up bullying each-other and the guy would just let us out before anyone died.

Lucardo’s building is pretty scary. You have to press a button to get in, and once you step inside there is what looks like an abandoned reception desk. It looked like a huge corporate company (Wait, are they the same thing?) with white walls and the smell of an empty hospital. I guess you could say it looked apocalypse-y, and you had to climb up a lot of stairs until you found the massive Lucardo sign.

Inside ‘the waiting room’ was nicely decorated, but then black and red are my favourite colours so maybe I’m biased.

The staff were friendly, Luke was our own personal Oversee-er. He was very helpful and clear when giving us clues, though if anything I think maybe he was a little too helpful. Without him, we wouldn’t have escaped, as he gave a lot away, compared to other escape rooms where they would help us through riddles.

So thanks Luke, if not for you and health and safety laws, we would still be stuck in that room.

The room we did was called The Dream, though personally I think it should be called ‘Wasted’ or ‘God, I should not have smoked that.’

The story is basically that you’re dreaming you’ve won the lottery, but to actually win you have to wake up and escape your subconscious, or be trapped there forever. Sort of spooky, sort of random.

Our newfound buddy Luke blindfolded us before leading us into the room, and when we took them off I didn’t know what to look at first. The floating chairs, the sheep (Toys, not real. Though that would have been a twist), the bike wheel or the watering cans full of balls. It was insane.

A few of the decorations were just there to throw you off, which was different to the other escape rooms I’ve done. I also spent a good ten minutes playing Simon says before Luke told me that I was supposed to do that later. I’m glad he told me, because I would have been touching my toes and lifting my arms for the whole hour.

And my team worked surprisingly well. I stood around sounding stupid, Ali and Ian figured out the puzzles and Ruby put the codes into the lock. It was pretty smooth and we escaped with two minutes to spare.

I feel like the room was decorated amazingly, and it has a lot of potential. I think the two problems I had was that the website description didn’t really advertise it well enough, and the numbers don’t really work with the dream theme. Maybe it should be called The Lottery, because saying you’re getting ‘locked in the dream room’ doesn’t sound very PG.

Overall it was a fun experience, and definitely worth a try. I feel like Lucardo is much more suited to families than Breakout, and would be great for kids as well as adults.

We finished our day with a victory Nando’s, and I totally dragged Ruby along to see Hotel Transylvania 3. You can tell from this photo how much fun she had!

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FYI: Yes, I know Ali is prettier than me. Damn him.