I was on a crowded train on a Friday morning, with my back aching and feet sore from the constant walking in my new and impractical high heels. So far I'd never had a stranger breathe so closely and so intensely down my neck without even meaning too. Nor had I ever asked myself so many times if the man behind me was purposely pushing his bulging crotch into my arse, but well, this is rush hour. Or to be more specific, London rush hour, the worst kind in my opinion. Where people barge, push, shove and tell those of us lucky enough to be in this damp and overcrowded train to move down the carriage. To this I squint and roll my eyes at the fact that there is no damn space on this carriage and no I will not move down anymore than I already have. Sorry, catch the next train that's coming in approx.30 seconds.
Having finished my undergraduate degree just this summer, the luxurious life of the working woman has yet to set in. Mysteriously, I'm actually poorer now than when I was at Uni, and my dress sense has taken an inevitable nose-dive as a result. I always imagined that I'd be fabulously running around London in 6 inch heels, holding a wet latte screaming "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY, YOU PEASANTS, I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT PLACE TO BE", all the while perfectly balancing a Celine bag casually filled with £20 notes (And also rocking some cat-eye shades might I add). Needless to say, this hasn't happened yet, and I'm not particularly bothered... Because you see, in the midst of the crotch-pushing man on the train that Friday morning, I was smiling ear to ear. I took a single look at the tumultuous train and it struck me that I am a lucky person to even be able to go to work. And it's an absolute blessing to make a living doing what I love doing.
One thing that I will never deny, is God's favour upon my life. So sure, the journey to work might be pain-staking, but I've been through worse, and besides, this is where I've always wanted to be. To be independent, creating and designing things, paying my own bills, buying my own things and going wherever I please. Very often, it is so easy to look at your immediate circumstances and complain, when in reality, this is nit-picking. I do this ALL the time! If I'm not complaining, then I'm worrying about something that is out of my control and then even when things are going right -I get skeptical! Sometimes I think we ought to take a step back and carefully analyse if where we are is where we want to be. If it is, then the little details don't really matter and if it isn't, then taking steps to change that might be useful.
That Friday morning when I looked at my surroundings in that thick and humid train, I was happy. I know that I'm not exactly where I need to be, but I thank God that I'm not where I used to be. I'm grateful for so many things in my life - for the physical things and the stuff that God is brewing up behind the scenes. Very often Christians are assigned the stereotype of perceived perfection, when actually this couldn't be further from the truth. I have way too many imperfections to count, and unlike Beyonce's anthem, I didn't wake up flawless. At times, I wake up flawed, sinned and downtrodden. I often have people say to me 'Oh Sherida, you're much too smart to believe in organised religion'. To this I don't have a particularly witty or a calculated answer, I have my testimony of what God has brought me out of, and that can't be reasoned or argued with. So when I'm going through a bad patch or my morning seems just a little more stressful than normal, I remind myself that through the grace of God, I worked hard to be where I am. So I need to be grateful. My life may not be the most glamorous [yet], but that isn't what I'm aiming for [for now ;) ].
+BUT! Trust and believe hunny, I will be fabulous...If I'm not already (I'm being totally serious, don't laugh at me.) One day, and that day is coming very soon, I'll be rocking my cat-eye shades, hailing a black cab to take me to Somerset House in London, where all the fashion and blogger people, even Karl (Yes he's Karl to me, Lagerfield to you, darling) will be fainting at my feet. At which point I will roll him over to the side with the tip of my MiuMiu heels. You do not touch The Sherida, Karl, we've been through this!
+This may never happen.