A Day in the Life: The Morning Edition

Why vlog when you can  blog ? (Since that’s considered retro these days, does this make me a hipster?)

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5:00 a.m.: First alarm rings. Phone is under my butt, not sure how, don’t care enough except to shut this damn thing off. Even if it is John Legend serenading me with Good Morning. Cue frantic searching for Le Phone. White iPhone in white sheets, oy.

5:02 a.m.: Johnny love, pleaseeee stop. Wait. Is that my phone? I feel it! I got it! No I don’t. It’s wrapped under some layer of sheets. Somehow John’s incessant “good mornings” begin to sound more and more like a lullaby…

5:05 a.m.: …right! Phone! Alarm! My eyes flutter open again. This time I have successfully recovered this damn thing I (unfortunately) love so much. The push notification has one single emoji of a flexed bicep. Ugh. I remember when I used to wake at the crack of dawn to do one full run of Tracy Anderson’s mat exercise. That was a long time ago. Like, a looong time ago.

5:10 a.m.: Guilt settles in. Why am I wasting my life away when I could be, oh I don’t know, working out and looking like Iza just in time for Halloween? I’m too lazy to get out of bed, but too guilty to fall back asleep. I settle for laying there. At least I’m flexing my brains.

7:15 a.m.: …by which I mean checking texts (there were 20 overnight, 17 of which were from a group message with my best friends, three of which were actually not from my BFFs. I am suddenly grateful I’m no longer be single; being “In A Relationship” is a pretty damn good filter for weeding out the gratuitous. Life is good.) I launch into a day-long texting fiesta with one of said best friends, as we tend to do to make up for the fact that were hundreds of miles apart.

7:20 a.m.: My stomach growls, I am hungry. One large banana (size is everything) and two cups of green tea (one matcha, one Kirkland teabag). I am two days sans espresso in my life, I am proud.

7:30 a.m.: The morning ritual has officially begun. I’m too far into brushing my teeth to regret gulping down the scalding hot tea. What will I wash my face with today? A new exfoliating cleanser I’m testing for work, or my trusty Cetaphil? You know, I once read that certain film sets use Cetaphil cleanser as, you know, the good stuff. It does not faze me.

7:45 a.m.: I have 15 minutes to get ready for work. Moisturize face. Straighten hair. Curl lashes. Blush or bronzer? Both, I’m looking a little bit sickly today, too many late nights. One coat of mascara. Dammit, a smudge… but don’t the infamous French girls strive for that imperfect look? I’m not French, but I’ve decided today is a good day to start living like one. I tsuzj some serum into the ends of my hair. Two spritzes of perfume. I don’t smell, I look decent, I am good to go. If it worked for the French…

8:00 a.m.: Simultaneously start the car and my commute playlist. As soon as I take the first exit, I am craving caffeine, and not the green tea kind. The quad-shot latte kind. Resist, Kim, you are better than this! But rush hour has this funny thing of foiling all grand plans and pulls me into the dark side. I will get my caffeine fix later, I need it. Somehow the thought of Starbucks soothes me and road rage no longer consumes me. The devil on my shoulder wins the debate; I will succumb after two days sans coffee.

8:45 a.m.: I enter the office through the back door and zigzag through a maze of shipments. Must. Drink. Caffeine. So I fill my reusable Starbucks cup with hot water, pop a teabag in, and start the computer. Both screens light up—too bright, not enough caffeine. I remember banana #2 and promptly begin unpeeling it. I should’ve worked out, I reprimand myself, conscious of feeling my derriere sink into the swively, leather chair. I briefly fantasize/nightmare-ize the idea of my behind slowly (but surely) flattening into the shape of my seat. I’m horrified, but it doesn’t do nearly enough to get me to start doing daily squats again.

I wait one minute to take a sip of my tea. Too hot. Just how I like it.

Let the work day begin.

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xx