for feeding her three hours late and drunk by throwing up in three different places, including on the rug in the hallway outside my room. Damn cat. I spent my morning hungover and on my knees, cleaning up vomit that wasn’t even mine.
If I was feeling a bit peckish before I put it on, suddenly I’m ravenous. I know how to make myself eat- put on lipstick. There’s nothing I want to do more once I feel like I can’t do it.
Damn you lipstick. Damn you for making me feel this way. You think you can tell me what I can and can’t do? You’re worse than my “lactose intolerance”. I’ll show you both at once by eating a ton of cheese right after I’ve put on my lipstick. Then we’ll see who’s in charge of my face.
Gotta say, I’ve heard of worse problems to have. You would think they’re all over the place the way he went on about it… bagels piled on top of the fridge, bagels stacked on our stairs, bagels festering underneath our cat… Can bagels fester? Maybe we actually should be nervous.
I better go check the cat.
Remember when I was all ‘Why did I eat the dairy when I knew it would hurt me?” I know why now.
I was slowly being able to eat more dairy without feeling sick. So this one morning I made myself a bowl of Cheerios before work. After I ate a couple of spoonfuls though, I could tell it was not going down well. I asked my Dad if he wanted to finish it for me. He asked me why I didn’t want it and I told him my stomach wasn’t sitting well because of the milk; I thought I could handle it but I couldn’t. He said ok. I took my spoon and he took the bowl. Dad added some sliced banana, some granola, even a little bit of chocolate powder on top and began to eat. After a couple of spoonfuls he began to clutch his stomach:
-“Dad, what’s wrong?”
-“…It’s the milk. I can’t take it.”
Jesus Christ. Difficulty accepting reality is a family trait apparently.
it’ll come into being. Just through sheer will power. How could it not? I’m willing it so fully, so forcefully. I wish that was a thing too- if I were just to focus all my energy on this one thing, really focus, it would happen. But nope. Still can’t teleport.
Someone who’s sick can spread their germs to you and you become sick like they are.Wouldn’t it be cool if you could spread health instead of sickness though? You could become healthy again the same way you got sick, by catching it from someone else. If you’re sick, you just drink from the cup of someone who was healthy and you get better. Like healthy germs. I wish that was a thing. I wish that was the way it worked.
There was a whole page on Facebook dedicated to them. I was fascinated. I had to Google it to find out more about it. Basically, they’re just giant dimples on your lower back, like two giant thumbprints above your butt. And they’re cute as hell. After finding out about these, I was instantly enraged that I did not have them. And I mean instantly. They are seriously beautiful. I never wished I had something different on my body so badly, I was so mad I would never have them. I was fine before I found about them. But after that, whenever I thought about them, I always felt a little pang of sorrow that they would never be a part of me. There were people out these who had these wonderful huge dimples just floating around on their back, and I wasn’t one of them. Those people had no idea how lucky they were to be blessed to be born with these beautiful giant natural imprints.
… And guess what….an entire year later, while trying to check out some tan lines, I discovered I actually do have back dimples. And they are awesome. But I also felt incredibly dumb for being so mad that I didn’t have them. When I did. This whole time. And I didn’t know because I never actually bothered to check. I guess I figured that if I had them, I would already know about them. Not the case. I went twenty years without knowing I’m a little bit better than everyone else. That is incredibly humbling to find out about myself.
Like really looking forward to it. But I’m going to miss the sound the heat makes when it comes on. Nothing is more comforting than hearing a blast of hot air gush into your room. Except for maybe actually feeling that hot air.
I think that if I pretend I’m not sick, I really won’t be sick anymore. And it works. It really does work. I believe it entirely. But positive thinking only works for a little while, and then I have to get a new strategy. But it’s good for when I just need to make it through something.
One of my insecurities is that I’ve never shovelled snow. Sometimes, I feel like people can take one look at me and just know I’ve never shovelled. They know I’m not a real Canadian. How can I be? I’ve never shovelled the sidewalk after a snowfall. I think I’m missing a classic Canadian experience. I’ve heard it’s really hard.
I really don’t like the cold either so I can’t say I’ve put in a solid effort to do it either. There’s always been all my other family members who’ve jumped up to do it before me. Every time. There’s been my mom, dad, older brother, and then little brother. I think they enjoy it. I’m the only one who’s never shovelled the snow. What if I’m in a life or death situation that involves me shovelling snow? I won’t be prepared. I’m lacking this life skill that could potentially be really important one day.
What if I’m living on my own one day and I have to do it? All my neighbours would know I’m a noob. You can’t fake shovelling the snow. At least I don’t think so. No one will want me as their neighbour. They’ll think I’m useless. I’ll have to really show them all my other better neighbourly qualities to redeem myself, like hosting a great karaoke party or being really quiet (but not at the same time). I feel like those are things neighbours could potentially really care about, besides if you can shovel your part of the sidewalk effectively. What if I look like a jerk one day because I didn’t volunteer to shovel my elderly neighbour’s driveway because I was just waiting for someone else to do it because I don’t know how? What if I do start shovelling the snow and have to quit half way through because I’m just too tired and can’t do it anymore? I’ll look even more stupid. I’ve been getting away with this for too long. It’s just so public. What if the people judge me?
See, I’m over thinking it. Only a first-timer would. There’s nothing else to do but to get over this crippling self-doubt and shovel the goddamn snow. Just shovel the hell out of it. Just get in there, and shovel and just shovel and shovel and shovel until I’ve lost control of my body and I’m spazzing out and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore and I’ve blacked out from the mixture of the intense physical activity my body has just experienced via this intense winter exercise, and also from the sweet euphoria of overcoming this deep personal insecurity.
The girl who just can't play it cool 