Operation Mini-Skirt: I'm still not sure. I haven't stepped on a scale, and today I had to slap myself because I became convinced that my chest and shoulders were starting to get fat again. I think I want to go back on the Nazi Diet. I feel a little lost without it.
Mental State: See above.
I woke up this morning, and I'm telling you, it was like I was a whole new person. The quality of sun that was streaming through my window made me question that this is only darkest February. The hint of springtime was in the air and I wasn't even out of bed yet. My ulcer-that-shall-henceforth-be-known-as-Fred remained lightly dozing while I was fully awake, which was lovely. All week long, Fred has been a constant in my life, every single minute of the day and night. But this morning, perhaps due to the atrociously expensive Nexium I've been taking since my doctor's appointment, he managed to sleep in for a few minutes, allowing me time to have a relatively pain-free shower.
Oh, and last night, spurred by a conversation I had with Pierce earlier in the day at work, an idea broke through the fog and I wrote and wrote and wrote, until smoke came out of the tip of my pen and I was no longer a human being, but a mass of creative energy powered the force of my own adjectives and alliteration. Funky, no?
Hell, I even look good today! I caught a Piranha checking out my arse, and Ginger and Mary-Anne are firmly and happily ensconced in the Brassiere of Ninety-Degree Points. I'm stylin' a pair of hematite earrings that catch both the light and one's attentions in the most precocious yet charming of manners. Much like myself, actually.
I'm back, my beauties! I had a bit of a bad stretch, but Mare-Ingenii, in all of her positive and sunshiny glory, is back! (More or less. A wee bit of woe remains, but I keep that around to add to the mystery. I let it cross my face in a fleeting shadow sometimes, so that my most ardent suitors can destroy themselves by wondering at my many layers. Tricky, eh?)
Now, I only have to deal with the eighty-year old ivy that's starting to cling to the tops of my boots. God... I really need to shave my legs...
Love you, darlings. Do watch Friends tonight. Sitcom therapy can be so much fun!
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