Sober Acting Drunk

Months of study meant that I was now well accustomed to student life. I awoke at 9am, giving me enough time to shower, brush my teeth and get to yoga. I’d spend the next hour stretching and de-stressing with the Mum Crowd. Having returned relatively unscathed from the school run, they’d tottle into the studio, clad from head to toe in Lorna Jane, peppered with inspirational quotes that just made me want to puke.

Actually, it may have been the lack of caffeine that led to my lack of tolerance – I’m not pleasant to be around when I’ve yet to ingest a soy latte.  And yes, I acknowledge the hypocrisy of being a yoga-attending, latte-drinking, Vespa owner who’s taking the piss out of the school mums for wearing Lorna Jane – but I’ve never proclaimed to be perfect.

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The Sneaky Drink/s

I gifted myself one weekend of socialising before beginning my studies in earnest and it would have worked out perfectly, if I wasn’t still recovering from a hangover on Monday. I used to bounce back so quickly but alcohol was no longer my friend. Well, it was, when I was drinking it. My mortal enemy, social anxiety, scooted as fast as my bright yellow Vespa when alcohol and I got together. But the next day, my body is on par with a Brisbane City Council bus – slow, needing to stop constantly and a bit smelly (on account of not having the energy to shower or the capacity to care).

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The First Lecture

It had arrived – my final day as a full time employee. I was so busy packing up my desk, I didn’t realise I’d had an epiphany until I’d already blurted it out loud.

‘Oh no! I have to be a professional lawyer from now on. That means I won’t be able to say the F word anymore!’

I’m a bit of a swearer. As far as I’m concerned the word sh!t isn’t even a swear word, it’s common vernacular for a crappy situation. Lucky to work in an office where swearing was the norm, I hadn’t considered Life After Rampant Profanity (or LARP, as it shall be known from hereon in).

My colleague laughed.

‘True. You’ll have to use the L word from now on.’

‘The L word?’

‘Litigate.’

‘Oh, good point.’

And it was. I could tell someone to f*ck off. Or I could tell them I was going to litigate. Either way, they’d be sure to leave me alone. Law school may have its perks after all.

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The Toga Party

Although I’d accepted the offer to study full time, I’d yet to inform my employer as such. Exactly one week later, resignation letter in hand, I began the trek from my desk to my boss’s office. It was less than twenty metres in total but I was sweating as though I’d run a marathon. I felt a medal, banana and cup of Gatorade were warranted upon arrival, it was the least he could do.

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