I woke up today, feeling like an Ogre. I mean I just glanced at my reflection in the toilet and my hair is a mess, I have one giant zit which I strongly believe is housing all of my ansty emotions – hence its size, my pants doesn’t feel like it fits me properly – they never do and tbh, I hate wearing pants and can’t wait to stop wearing them and…today is basically the kind of day I would have very much opted to hide from, at home had I been able to. I can’t wait for tomorrow! I hope I wake up feeling a tad bit prettier.
And as an afterthought, why do I associate feeling pretty to having a good day?
Christina, 38, NYC, in a relationship
“I didn’t want to end up like my mom.”
I didn’t have the happiest childhood with two parents who loved and respected each other, so the idea of having a husband and children was never one of my life goals. The women who fascinated me the most were the ones who never married and never had kids and got to travel everywhere and live life on their own terms. My mother said repeatedly that she ruined her life by getting married and having a child (thanks, Mom!).
As a single person, my mother worked for Pan Am and loved it. But then she got married and moved across the country. And my dad wasn’t exactly Husband Of The Year. So all of a sudden she’s stuck with an alcoholic philandering husband and a kid in the California suburbs. She would have been so much happier as a single career woman, versus a stay-at-home mom in the ’burbs.
If I’d grown up in a family where being married was the best thing that ever happened to them and having a child was the second best thing, I might feel differently. But I don’t know…I always knew I didn’t want to end up like my mom. The whole image of having a husband and a kid isn’t always rosy.
The women I looked up to were the ones who didn’t have to do the family thing. They were so well-traveled and glamorous. And they seemed happy even if other people looked down on them. People in my family would say, “Oh, there’s Aunt Connie, she’s the spinster.” But she seemed perfectly happy to me!
Of late, I no longer can be bothered with bodycon anything. Primarily because I am suddenly incapable of sucking my stomach in.(I honestly have no idea how I used to do it all those years at Butter Factory.)
Here is a new look I tried over the weekend and actually ended up liking quite a bit. Points for comfort, weather friendly and making me feel pretty this weekend!
I will never tire of writing or having conversations about the terrible twenties we are all forced to survive. The lack of sleep, lack of confidence, lack of money, lack of love, lack of faith, lack of every-fucking-thing; as transitory as it is on its best days and endless on its worst are simply put – quite fucking tiring.
And here’s the worst news – I actually don’t think it gets better in our 30’s. I think after having spent 10 years adapting to shit, we just become masters of defecation.
“It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for the next morning. If you could keep awake (but of course you can’t) you would see your own mother doing this…you would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.”
Think my mum is the sort who would take one look at what’s in my head and douse me in holy water, hahaha. :)
Anyway, yo living nightmares, stop hitting like such a basic bitch. You can me make cry but you won’t make me die!
WHERE IS MY BEER?!
So life right now has become, somewhat worst. Suppose I have two choices in times like these: wail and succumb to another panic attack or dig my toes into the soles of my shoes, keep calm and ride this shitty storm out.
I chose the latter and I hope I stick with my choice.