On some days, I am incapable of finding the exact words that will express the inner workings of my mind, my spirit, my very being.
I'm not suggesting, of course, that my very being is too complex to be captured thoroughly within the limits of the English language. Good God, no! As much as I'd like to be thought of as complicated and intense, my fondness for Maeve Binchy and pretty blouses salts that whole game right off the bat.
No, it's just that sometimes, my mind is like my desk at work. There's a lot of silly stuff piling up, but none of it is overly complicated or worth more than five minutes of time and a minimum of concentration. It's just that the sheer volume of it is daunting, making me want to throw up my hands and say, "Bah! I can't deal with this! It's too hard!" I don't know where to start. I've no idea how to prioritise items into categories that would have no choice but to be labelled things like Silly, Sillier, Shallow, Vaguely Important and Too Far In The Future To Worry About Now.
So. Here's the deal. I'm going to share. I'm going to spew. I'm going to open my brain and drain off the excess silliness. Perhaps, if I put it out for the public to read, the shame of it all will stop me from letting such a build-up happen again.
1. I'm going out to dinner on Sunday, and fear the outfit I want to wear will not fit.
2. I lost a pound, but am worried that the weakest part of me will want to celebrate the loss with a giant Tootsie Roll.
3. I'm dreading my cousin's wedding in October, because the thought of going without a date is torturous and more depressing than I like to admit.
4. I think I'm getting Four-Boob Syndrome again, and I don't know if this is because of weight gain or an improperly fitting bra.
5. I'm afraid to adjust the bra.
6. Two weeks, six days and 10 pounds to the reunion.
7. Ten pounds. I can lose ten pounds! It's mostly water anyway, right? Right? The first eight pounds is ALWAYS water.
8. I could really use a haircut, but am worried that Victor will cut too much off and then charge me too much for it.
9. I'm worried that I'm the worst kind of meek, in that I'm afraid of my hair stylist.
10. I'm afraid that if I stand up for myself, I'll lack the panache to do it with class, and will end up sounding bitchy and ignorant.
11. I'm starting to hate Fridays, because all it brings is a weekend that gets ruined because I'm worried about the things I've got to do at work.
12. I'm breaking out for the first time in 9 months. This scares me, as the preceding months in question were the first time I've gone without a minor eruption since puberty, and I really don't want to ruin that clean streak. I'm 29, people!
13. I'm 29, people.
14. Ooh look! Something sparkly!
15. I worry that this entry is the one where Mare-Ingenii jumps the shark.
It's time for me to go back to work. If you're still reading, I offer my congratulations. And heartfelt apologies.
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