Beaches and Ice Cream...

I have set myself a bloggers challenge to mend my broken heart. My best friend, Dynasty, unlike me, is a proper blogger. She is a fashionista with a passion for a bargain and her blog is widely recognised in the fashion/blogger community. I've gone months without even writing in mine. Shoddy behaviour.

As a fancy blogger, Dynasty is often set blogger challenges to complete by other fancy blogger types in the crazy world of fashion. I remember her creating a rather spectacular Asian style bedroom with minimal effort (she's a talented bugger that best friend of mine). With this as my inspiration, I have set myself my own blogger challenge; to test and report back the most affective way to cure a broken heart. Although my heart may not have been smashed into a thousand pieces deliberately in the form of a painful break up, it has been chipped away at until finally, last night, it listened to my head and came to the realisation that The Boy, to whom it belongs, could not give it anywhere near the love it deserved.

There's that old saying of "sometimes the kindest thing to do is to let go" and I know eventually I will see the benefit of this, however, right now, I still want to hope and letting go feels too painful for words. My heart and head have given up though and I cannot continue to hope without them.

So here I am, ready with my mission to mend all that feels so let down and inform you of my successes and failures.

As I stated in this mornings post, last night I tried the one and only cure for a broken heart I could remember from those half a dozen or so chick flicks I can actually stomach; Ice cream and a weepy film. I did not get on well.

I choose the film Beaches. I felt it was a safe choice. The main story is that of two friends, CiCi and Hilary. No mushy love scenes to pour salt into my very recent wound. Clever. There is also a fair bit of singing in the form of the wonderful Bette Midler. Yes, my Bette Midler impression is pretty dyer but being all alone, it mattered not. I could sing along to my hearts content. And of course, there was chocolate chip ice cream. A sure fire way to lift the spirits. This was bound to help begin the healing process; wrong.

The story of CiCi and Hilary's friendship just reminded me that my two closest friends were over 200 miles away in the city that is my safe haven. So very far away from my little flat in this northern capital. How were they going to come and rescue me at such a distance with their own lives to handle? Cue Niagara Falls. Have I mentioned that I am the worlds ugliest crier!? No. I am. Blotchy, puffy, snotty and all my facial features temporarily merge into one great blob in the centre of my face. When I say temporarily, I, of course, mean for several hours. My attractiveness is astounding sometimes, it really is. Even my dad once stated how unfortunate I look after crying. My dad. The man who has loved me for almost 28 years. I think you get the idea.

So with my face half swollen, red and damp from my leaking eyes, I began to join in with my favourite part of the film; the Christmas section. Cue "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and "Come All Ye Faithful" IN LATIN!! Happiness was round the corner. Christmas songs!! Oh, how many times in one evening can a girl be wrong! I was beginning to get a complex. Singing Christmas Carols when unhappy is impossibly sad and not something I shall ever repeat. Unless I'm auditioning for the part of Fantine in Les Mis. If I could sing, I would have nailed a Fantine audition last night.

So Christmas was in front of me and suddenly all things other than Christmas were vile to me. Where was Christmas to bring the snow that would wipe away my autumn blues!? I began to feel sorry for myself; an emotion I loathe even more than heart ache. Time for ice cream, I thought. I stuffed a large amount down my reluctant throat and can honestly say I felt nothing. Not one thing. Perhaps it was too soon for ice cream. Perhaps it was too late. Either way, all the ice cream did was fill a stomach that didn't need feeding. I wish I had been eating from the tub. Yes, you may resemble every girl with a broken heart cliché that has ever been written into a book, film or tv series, however, it just makes good sense. I filled a bowl full of ice cream that I forced myself to eat. What a waste of perfectly good ice cream, but I simply couldn't bare to have it sat in the bowl looking at me as if to say "You can't even manage ONE bowl? Who are you?". Ice cream doesn't speak to you, no? Just me? Well, that's a worry, isn't it. But I have other things to deal with at this time. Back to the ice cream; If I had simply taken the tub I would been able to stop after two mouthfuls happy in the knowledge that I'd tried. Not be forced to eat the entire bowl. The last time I had no desire to finish a bowl of ice cream was the day after my tonsils had been removed. I was six. It was first day since who knows when that my hearing was over 20%. I'm still awaiting the radical transformation that *this* ice cream disproval will bring. Anytime now. I'm sure of it.

Talking with The Blonde One (the other bestie) this morning, I have come to the conclusion that although my pain over this boy is very real, the biggest mind fuck about the whole situation is the thought of starting all over again.

How do people do this? Again and again?

This is clearly too large for my naive-relationship-fearing mind to cope with on its own. I needed reinforcements. I obviously turned to twitter. My beloved followers have suggested all manner of wonderful methods for me to try out. Some I already had in mind; some that made me howl with laughter and some that are down right naughty. They did good!

So for now, the next stop is; Love Actually and Cake.

As for Beaches and ice cream on the day you realise that your heart has finally given up the ghost and has gone into hibernation; I would say give these two a miss. Unless you are in fact auditioning for Fantine. Perfect blend of weepy, singing and depression. What a night in!

Oh, and for those of you that were wondering, I did go for a walk earlier, The Smiths did turn up on my iPod and there was not one sniff of a tear from my end. I'm telling you, I'm harder than SuperMan. This blog may just be working.