A day in the ‘oh-so-fabulous’ life of an independent woman
When I was in high school, I couldn’t wait to start adulting — to have my own place, go partying with my friends on the weekends and trot around town in fashionable clothes. You guessed it, like Carrie in Sex and The City or like Monica or Rachel in Friends.
Not the best idea of adulting to have as a teen, is it?
I was quickly made aware of this a few years later as I got a job and got my own place. The reality was blaring and not quite as “fabulous” as I had expected.
If you’re an adult on Medium reading this, you probably know how things are about to go down. But I still thought I’d bless you all with an account of what a day in the life of an independent woman, working from home looks like. Ready? Let’s go!
The waking up
6 am is when my first alarm rings. But like for many other millennials, it is the first in a series of rather loud and irritating alarm bells. After six alarms, and two phone calls from a friend I’ve assigned the task of waking me up to, I drearily pull myself out of bed at around 6:45.
Yes, I know that still counts as being a morning person which is so unlike life in any of the 90s sitcoms. I tried living that lifestyle — waking up at noon and having cereal and orange juice for breakfast. My boss and my body both didn’t like it.
Now, since I live by myself and there is no help or aid of any sort to get me coffee in bed, I drag my feet into the kitchen and with half-closed eyes and prepare a brown concoction closely resembling coffee.
By the time I’m done, it is already 7 and I’m gulping down the boiling liquid, using the bathroom, and looking at memes on Facebook, all at the same time while also trying to avoid getting late for the gym (cannot take one more taunt or disapproving look from the trainer).
Disciplined life, you think? More like obligation because my mid-twenties’ body cannot really keep up with the shit I subjected it to when I was 20!
The working out
I’ll admit it’s intimidating to witness hunks and hunkesses in the gymnasium, pounding away at the machines as I try to lift 2.5kg dumbbells while looking like I’ve got it all under control.
I’m really more of a yoga person, but since that will require me to be more disciplined and workout at home, I settle for what the trainers have to say.
Gym time, needless to say, is also laced with me sneaking out to look at Instagram on my phone at 10-minute intervals. By the end of my 45-minute session, I am a lot stronger about my knowledge of Kim Kardashian’s latest antic and a lot closer to getting yelled at by my trainer.
After a slight altercation, it’s time to head back home for, you guessed it, breakfast!
In an Indian household, when you’re young, everything is kind of done for you. That’s how parents do stuff. They’ll cook, clean and basically take care of the house while your only job is to focus on your studies. So you can imagine what a shock it is to the system when you have to do it yourself.
Since there is no one around to help, creating a menu and then deciding what to cook is probably one of the toughest decisions I’ve had to make in all my years of existence.
And although I love breakfast and watch recipes on repeat on YouTube on a daily basis, I settle (and this is the case five days out of seven) for some form of eggs, a glass of milk and maybe some fruit if I haven’t forgotten to purchase it the previous day.
Let’s work, work, work, work…
Now that I’m fully awake, exercised and fed, I am ready to start the day. A big part of living independently is earning the money to support your independence. Therefore the massive hoohaa.
So, I start by binge-watching some random show on Netflix for two hours. Since I work online (writing and creating content mostly), this counts as research. By the time I’m done, I’m hungry again, have probably written two paragraphs, and am feeling weighed down by all the hard work I’ve done.
Needless to say, I proceed to address the hunger first with whatever I can get my hands on and whatever I have leftover from breakfast. And you can’t really have lunch without YouTube playing in the background. This also counts as research btw.
Once, I’m done (two-hours later) it is time to get back to writing, but because I’ve stuffed myself too much, my eyes have a hard time staying open. Obviously then, it is coffee to the rescue. I prepare a decent cup this time around and gulp it down in an attempt to get rid of the drowsiness.
Back to work, work, work, work…
Okay! Finally, I open a new document, adjust the font and stare at the screen for I-don’t-know-how-long, waiting for creative inspiration to strike. By this time it is already late in the afternoon and I need to pick up the pace.
On most days, I work like a frenzied maniac during the second half of the day and finish my articles for work, write a piece for my blog, edit some photos, and also think of content for the coming days before I shut my laptop. Clearly, I don’t believe in balance. If any part of adulting closely resembles the shows I dearly watched through my teens, it’s this.
It’s time to partaaay
When I finally shut my laptop and it isn’t 11:30 pm already, I will call one of my two best friends for a night out in the city. Living in Delhi, one of the most culturally vibrant cities in the country isn’t to be taken for granted!
But since they all have more happening lives than I do, most times they’ll not be free and I’ll be left with the internet for company. Pretty damn glamorous, isn’t it? And I’m left wondering if I’ll ever find the Mirandas, Samanthas, and Charolettes to my Carrie.
On the rare occasion that my friends are free and we do get down to deciding where to go, by the time we’re done, I’m already exhausted and decide to sit the meeting out. On the even rarer occasion, I do actually step out, I have to ensure that the neighbours aren’t disturbed when I come back home at night because, trust me, you don’t want to be the woman who was judged by Indian neighbours for living on your own without your parents or husband.
The bed is calling
If I’m not already exhausted from all the working and partying (read staring at the laptop all day), I’ll pick up my kindle in an attempt to read something meaningful and then doze off with the gadget in hand. That is why my alarms are set for all days of the week. The next morning? It is get, set, repeat! Pretty damn fabulous and glamorous, isn’t it?
PS: If you don’t have a sense of humour and took this post literally, you are right, I need to sort my life out.