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Jan. 22nd, 2012 07:17 pmWell, then.
I felt completely apart post bellydancing. Today, through no fault of the teacher's, it mostly felt like paying money for the joy of going somewhere to feel fat and awkward for an hour. I could not find a way to understand what I was being asked to do, and even when I did understand, I couldn't find a way to make my body comply.
And then my side started to ache, and it's a very fast trip to me from 'my side aches' to 'i hate my new boobs' to 'i hate me.' I want to be happy, I think. I want to be comfortable in knowing that I did what I could do with the information I had on hand, I want to be grateful because there are so many worse things that could have happened.
I keep, I kept thinking about things in terms of the possible outcomes for everything being X or Cancer. And there's almost nothing that makes the Or Cancer side of the equation the more appealing one. So when I go down the path where I hate my new boobs, I hate my new granny bras, I hate that none of my clothes look right to me anymore, I think I should be able to tell myself that I probably did the right thing and that should be the end of it, it can't be undone, it was the best possible choice, why I am still wallowing and wailing?
But Light lets me sob into his shirt, and then we go and we spend an improbable amount of money at Penzeys and go buy booties for Moppet, which are funnier than they have any right to be. I imagine she'll get used to them eventually, but at the moment, her attempts to rid herself of them are aneurysm-inducingly hysterical. There's three kind of soup in the fridge a new RA MacAvoy book (which makes a grievous copy-editing error on the first page, but I'm trying to forgive it) and I remembered to buy oyster crackers.
Or close the wall up with our English dead, after all.
I felt completely apart post bellydancing. Today, through no fault of the teacher's, it mostly felt like paying money for the joy of going somewhere to feel fat and awkward for an hour. I could not find a way to understand what I was being asked to do, and even when I did understand, I couldn't find a way to make my body comply.
And then my side started to ache, and it's a very fast trip to me from 'my side aches' to 'i hate my new boobs' to 'i hate me.' I want to be happy, I think. I want to be comfortable in knowing that I did what I could do with the information I had on hand, I want to be grateful because there are so many worse things that could have happened.
I keep, I kept thinking about things in terms of the possible outcomes for everything being X or Cancer. And there's almost nothing that makes the Or Cancer side of the equation the more appealing one. So when I go down the path where I hate my new boobs, I hate my new granny bras, I hate that none of my clothes look right to me anymore, I think I should be able to tell myself that I probably did the right thing and that should be the end of it, it can't be undone, it was the best possible choice, why I am still wallowing and wailing?
But Light lets me sob into his shirt, and then we go and we spend an improbable amount of money at Penzeys and go buy booties for Moppet, which are funnier than they have any right to be. I imagine she'll get used to them eventually, but at the moment, her attempts to rid herself of them are aneurysm-inducingly hysterical. There's three kind of soup in the fridge a new RA MacAvoy book (which makes a grievous copy-editing error on the first page, but I'm trying to forgive it) and I remembered to buy oyster crackers.
Or close the wall up with our English dead, after all.
