Today was not a good day. Right after getting out of bed I made the one great mistake. I weighed myself. Don’t stare yourself blind at the scales, they say. The mirror and your clothes are better tools. So they say. And I agree with them, most of the time. But not today. Not when the scales showed a number far too high (it’d be a great pleasure to throw them off the balcony, in real rock n roll style), when my jeans felt too tight in the wrong places (silly me… and stupid shops that don’t sell pants for people who actually have a pair of hips) and the mirror was showing a pale freak show (at least the sun isn’t too far away). I don’t care if it’s because my mind is playing tricks on me (it always does. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself so that I won’t have to face the disturbing reality). I don’t care if it’s because all those liquids always to come screaming at that particular time of the month (is this true or a myth made up by suffering women?). I don’t care if it’s because I’m a lousy shopper who always buys trousers meant for people with thinner hips than mine.
The thoughts that have been invading and taking over my mind today were far from pretty: actually they were quite disturbing, and I ‘m thankful that these days only occur once or twice a month. Otherwise I’d rapidly be turning into a rabbit, only chewing on carrots all day long.
At least my hair was shiny and nice. And thank heavens for that little glass of red that is sending soft and tasty vibrations to my mind and body.
Tomorrow will, probably, be a better day.