My weight. I am overweight. Not in a Christina Hendricks or Nigella Lawson kind of way. That is, no hourglass curves or voluptuous hips, or cascading, flowing locks of hair. I look like a store bags of crisps under my top and tuck pillows into the back of my jeans (who would do that?).
My skin. I don't have terrible skin; that needs to be said. But I have definitely not been blessed by the happy-complexion fairy. She decided not to wave that wand over my face for some reason.
My hair. Curly, frizzy, tangled mess. Mess. Best way to describe it. No Merida locks, no Andie Macdowell face to make up for the hair (see above).
My teeth. Again, not awful, but not lovely. Not white, not even. Big gap in the middle.
My social life. I think I touched on this in my last post. I had a few good friends but I don't have them anymore. The ones I have seem to be afraid of getting close to people, or maybe just me. So conversations may be frequent but they do not pass beyond the threshold of small-talk. Heart to heart conversations are things I miss.
My mother. She has grown increasingly hyper-sensitive and paranoid over the years. Literally anything I say in passing can trigger a tantrum. Sometimes it includes throwing things. Sometimes only cutting passive aggressive remaks that eventually boil up and lead to throwing things.
My father. Absent. Physically, emotionally-just in all the ways.
Boys. Last but not least, I think. In a nary she'll: no boy has ever flirted with me, asked me out, kissed me. I think points two and three and any others that coho slow were unnecessary after point one.
THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY
After writing the first list I don't feel like writing this one. I will do this later.
No comments:
Post a Comment