Kaitlin Pignataro

I think I want a really big sandwich for lunch, a super icy bitter long black, and I have to go buy a 'Secondary A' from the hellscape that is Chemist Warehouse on Swan Street, which I'm just dreading. Not because of the interaction with the pharmacist, who is usually relatively sympathetic to my perceived stupidity. Swan Street my swan song

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I'm acutely aware of my own irony. I refuse to take birth control because ‘I just don't want to take something where I don't really know what it is’. Despite having made two attempts with the mini pill, even still, it was too threatening for me. All those little pills in their blister-packed beds staring at me meanly.

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CENSORED

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I'm not a prude when it comes to taking, like whatever, and I'm a regular drinker. I personally say that I am a reformed smoker. However, I'm not quite sure what that means. I just know I never do it alone and like vague labels to mitigate feelings of guilt.

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I take all my vitamins obsessively, and of course my one dose of SMILEANDJOY every day (obvs I have no idea what this is made of or actually does, either). And whenever I go to a friend's house, especially if they still live with their parents, those cupboards are being raided for any supplement I can find: spirulina powder, CoQ10, zinc, vitamin C, magnesium glycinate, NAC, fish oil, collagen, jujube dates, chicken of the woods supplement, ashwagandha. Whatever it is, you name it, I'm taking it in double the amount.

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My particular favourite is BioCeuticals ArmaForce, in its sweet teal, oblong form - a cure-all really. I really appreciate how funny a lot of my friends think this is instead of thinking about the fact that I am generally consuming at least $60 worth of supplements on every visit. It's an impulse I can't even describe; I just know there is nothing in the world that could restrain me from engaging in my sacred praxis of pill gobbling.

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At home, I watch the documentary, A Certain Kind of Death (2003) on YouTube. I know I want to be turned into a crystal or a tree when I die. To see all these leaking, purple, distended bodies treated with such indifference by those performing their jobs is fascinating. I always had an interest in becoming a mortician, but in Year 12 at a careers fair in Flemington, I was told it is a limited job market, and I would have to have a degree in biology. I don't like doing hard things, and it isn't exactly a role where you can get work experience, so I went to the next closest thing, the Arts, because there is a limited job market and it makes you wanna die.

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Hamish texts me to tell me my writing made him giggle, and I say his new bald-headedness is handsome/hamsome.

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Carlton Wine Corner across the road issued a statement on their Instagram a few days ago saying that you can’t drink on the median strip anymore because of police intervention.

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I went to the chemist for one thing and and left with another (VÖOST effervescent multivitamin tablets, super-absorbent tampons, Clairol Blonde It Up Kit in Platinum Blonde and Le Tan Coconut Gradual Tan Lotion). I think being tanned and blonde will fix a lot of my issues and distract from my treatment-resistant acne.

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The total of this costs over $40, and the hair dye admittedly has terrible reviews. I realise now I should have bought the Platinum Bronde kit instead of the Platinum Blonde kit.

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I am what I can only describe as literally addicted to buying various hair dyes, bleaches, toners, etc.

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After the chemist, I went to IGA and bought a vegetable pasty and this sort of miscellaneous yogurt protein pot. It's virtually impossible to buy anything that doesn't have protein in it nowadays. Considered buying some chocolate from the company I had my interview with today, only to see that for an incredibly small square, it is $8.

$8 for dark chocolate with buckwheat in it. It piqued my interest.

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I eat no sugar added sour gummy bears, no sugar added Paul’s protein custard, and drink sugar-free ginger beer in excess as well as Diet Coke. For my long black, I fish out two Sweet’N Low packets from my beloved Marc Jacobs leather bag that I take in fistfuls from 7/11 and dissolve them by stirring with my finger.

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Every. Single. Day. Is aspartame and stevia poisoning real? Because if so, I'm living through it right now as it corrodes my omentum and teeth. I got my bag from The Mill in Daylesford, a wonderful memory. That same day I also bought my wedding dress, and six months later got engaged. See it and believe it.

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It’s pure cream silk made in the 80s. Circle skirt with a tiny waist and very subtle gathered pleating at the top that dissipates as it hits the ankle. The top half is fashioned as a cowl neck, but on me it sits off the shoulder and has, again, very slight puffed sleeves that fasten at the wrist. It is a two-piece wonder, and I really adore it.

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It sits mostly getting dusty on it's hanger that is hinged ON the wardrobe, not IN.

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Looking at pictures from Princess Di’s wedding. God bless.

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Just learnt of a ‘dead link’.

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I have finally picked my Halloween costume.