The Bags under My Eyes are Chanel

They say it's the early bird who catches the worm. Well you can have the stupid worm. I'd much rather stay  in bed anyway. 

Audrey Hepburn in 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'

Usually when someone is overly happy in the morning, I assume they are on drugs, psychologically unstable or a Scientologist. I can’t help that I love sleeping so much; I wake up tired sometimes, from sleeping so hard. And yet I've recently come to realise that being even more talkative and energetic in the early hours (if that’s even possible), probably makes ME a morning person. Standing on the crowded peak hour train at 7am in Winter isn't enough to dampen my happy mood. In Melbourne, that’s called having a mental illness.

As a kid, there was always something magical about getting up hours before my parents on a Saturday morning. Tip-toeing into the living room, I would eat a bowl of cereal in my pyjamas and flick on Saturday Disney, which held the promise of; Kim possible, That’s So Raven and Lizzie McGuire. I watched animatedly as Sally, Shay and Dan performed ‘double-dog dares’ (which usually involved consuming a concoction of baked beans and chocolate sauce) and creating scratch 'n' sniff sticker and gel pen masterpieces to enter into the art competitions. For those few hours, kids controlled the television programming (and the world) — up until the morning news flashed onto the screen, and my sisters and I would ‘BOOO!!’ while the news reporter grinned smugly at the thought of ruining the lives of millions of children. Growing up, I always wanted my own Disney Channel show. I wanted to be like Hannah Montana, and so those few hours on a Saturday morning before Little Athletics were some of the happiest of my childhood. As I grew into my pre-teen years, Saturday mornings were replaced instead watching RAGE and dancing to ‘Party in the USA’ on my Dance Dance Revolution mat, all while my dad voiced his distaste at ‘another Disney starlet gone wrong’. Isn’t it ironic how everyone who criticised her for growing up too fast now wants that ‘old’ Miley back?

It’s no wonder teenagers sleep in on a Saturday if all we have to look forward to is the morning news?! Um, no thank you. I promised my mum when I was seven that the day would never come when I suddenly preferred the news over cartoons. And I intend to stick to my word. Perhaps all we need to get out of bed is something we can’t put our finger on. Something magical that only Disney can give us.

Xx