A spiritual awakening in a TK Maxx changing room
and a treat for all you snort-laughers
Going home over Christmas is always a trip down memory lane. A run-of-the-mill dash into the town centre can suddenly end up as an unexpected return to the late 00s and early 10s, to the giggles of growing up and the carefree calamity of being a teen. Oh look! The Nando’s where I had a first date I was so nervous for, with a boy I couldn’t believe might fancy me too! Hark, the unit that used to hold Hull’s big Topshop, where I spent all of my hard-earned money on weird cat t-shirts and denim shorts!
Of course: famously, growing up isn’t all roses. Another stop on the EK tour of the city centre is the TK Maxx, where I always, without fail, used to break down sobbing in the changing rooms. As someone who’s always felt larger than the average size (and I say felt because actually, I’ve been the bang-on average size for a woman for most of my life, but we all know that doesn’t translate to clothes buying in shops which seem to predominantly carry 6, 8, and 10s), shopping has never been as easy as it could be. Usually, as so many of us have to do, I took it in my stride. Until it came to TK Maxx.
Something about the TK Maxx changing rooms just always sent me. I don’t know what it was: perhaps the particular mirrors, maybe the bright overhead lights, or possibly just the sheer exhaustion and overwhelm of facing everything TK Maxx crams under its roof; but without fail, every time, I’d fall into a fit of body image sobs at some point in the cubicle. It didn’t matter how I felt going in — I came out every time feeling the same.
Fast forward to 2022, just a few days shy of 2023, and I’m yet again at the scene of the crime. I’m in the same TK Maxx changing rooms, waiting for my wonderful, brilliant Mum (who was always, always there to comfort me during my sobs, in changing rooms and otherwise). Whilst chilling in the cubicle opposite her, I just so happened to look down at my shoe - and caught sight of a very faint rainbow arcing across the ankle.
Whilst logically I know that this was just light refracting from some kind of prism, my emotional reaction was strong and immediate. That the exact combination of mirrors and lights (because I really don’t think they’ve changed anything in that shop in 12+ years) which had so often sent me into meltdown as a youth could now send me a little rainbow felt like a love letter from the universe: one that said you’re okay. It’s going to be okay.
So that’s the energy I’m taking into 2023, for little Ellie and big Ellie alike: it’s going to be okay. And I hope you can take that energy into this new year too.
Happy New Year ❤️
Here’s a little window into what I’m enthusiastic about at the mo…
01 lusting after
This Babak Ganjei poster.
02 currently reading
Beach Read by Emily Henry (affiliate link). It’s a lovely, witty book, but I particularly loved the bit I read yesterday where January describes her best friend’s snort laughing:
“I love when people do that…I always feel like she’s drowning in life. In a good way. Like it’s rushing up her nose, you know?”
As a fellow person with a very notable and noticeable laugh, I coulda burst into tears because it was just so lovely.
03 wishing I wrote
“The Year We Wanted To Be Fancy Little Bitches”, on Eater. (Please note the excellent URL, which ends with martinis, caviar, classic luxury but also: nihilism.)
04 whipping up
Lots of stuff with olive oil - because IT’S HAPPENED, I’VE BECOME AN OLIVE OIL GIRLIE, after I said I wanted to be last year. I got 6 bottles for Christmas! SIX!!!
05 listening to
Greg James and Ed Gamble on the Taskmaster podcast, after the NY Treat episode (if you missed it on my stories the other day…I shared a vid of Carol Vorderman, one of the contestants, saying how we all fancied her, and she saw it. 23 hours into 2023 and I’d already embarrassed myself; a new record, perhaps?)