FOMO

Do you find it hard to say no? If your friends are planning a night out when you’re a) broke, b) tired or c) can’t be fucked, do you still go anyway? Do you fret at the thought of others partaking in drinking festivities while you’re holed up at home or work?
Then, my friends, you may be suffering from FOMO: Fear of missing out.
Ha! Isn’t it brilliant? While I’m wary and, quite frankly, a bit concerned about my increasing acceptance of acronyms, this is one I love! Our friend Jaimee educated me on the concept of FOMO on the weekend and I think she’s got a jolly good point.
Quite regularly on a Friday night I find myself reluctantly blow-drying my hair in the mirror and downing a bottle of Sauv when, deep down, I know all I want to do is eat sour skittles and watch New Zealand’s Next Top Model. But this desperate little voice in my head says “come on now Christine! Everyone else is going! They could be talking about this night for years!.” And so on. And so I go out. And by the end of the night I realise I would have missed out on very little had I stayed home.
FOMO is responsible for the messy areas in my life, eg, finance, weight and lack of willpower. FOMO is why I forfeited overtime on Thursday night in order to drink wine + talk shit with my girlfriends. I can’t miss out, after all.
I realise I’m offering no solution to this FOMO conundrum, but now I’m fully aware of this tragic motivating factor for going out, perhaps I might learn to keep a lid on it and spare myself the cash and calories on occasion. Right? Right.
Ps: The picture? It doesn’t relate whatsoever, I know. But it’s a black man wearing fluffy trousers, raging to a boombox whilst riding a dolphin. Why not.