Thursday, 29 September 2011

Wishful Thinking

  Black smudges on the pillow. Wrinkled bed sheets.  Eyes staring at the ceiling. Puffy  ones. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” was playing tonight, is playing right now in fact. I could’ve gone. I’d wanted to go since I’ve heard it was going to play today. I was thrilled because I’m free Wednesday evenings and because I would get the chance to wear one of my new skirts.

  Mirrors are tricky things though. They are honest. And in my case, more often than not, they’re not only honest, they’re blunt.

 It was an exciting morning with many planned errands run, I felt accomplished. Now, the evening has come. Time for some fun. I slowly opened the drawer, picked a skirt and anxiously tried it on. I walked to the mirror. I took a few steps forward and then a few ones backwards. Turned around, tried every pose possible. I tried on a second skirt. I tried on a third skirt. Alas.  The gods of weight loss along with the gods of self-esteem don’t want to give me a break. And I desperately need one.

 Nothing is more unsettling than the feeling of being stuck within yourself. Not with yourself, but within.  Time is another tricky thing. It just won’t give you what you want when you need it the most. You have to wait, and most of the time it is painfully inconvenient.

  Lying still on my bed fighting tears and thoughts, wishing I had a different body, at least for tonight. Or maybe wishing I didn’t care how I looked or maybe wishing I was thirteen again , starting all over and never approaching those cookies.

 Lying still on my bed, Black smudges on the pillow. Wrinkled bed sheets.  Eyes staring at the ceiling. Puffy  ones.

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