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rmMy powers of recovery never cease to amaze me. Because despite drinking quite a bit last night and feeling really queasy when I did get home (helped as much, perhaps, by my bus driver getting arrested for driving with an open Heinekin as any alcohol I actually consumed), I more or less feel fine now.
I have a set of memories that lasts years, it seems, of moments in bar bathrooms, hands washed where I'd stop and look at myself in the mirror, just to assess, well, everything. I suppose most people do this when they are drinking, but I don't really know, I've never asked. Anyway those were the years of being young, of being insecure, of being with Michael or going to clubs lots. There was a lot to assess, and in those thiry seconds I would remind myself how to sit, what to say, that I was in a story, that I was, if nothing else, the most beautiful girl in the world, which didn't mean I was hot, just eerie. Last night, I took the pause, as I usually do -- I love mirrors as if it's a chance to see what no one else bothers to, maybe I'm just vain -- and had a moment of Damn. Three weeks, and my shoulders are different, my arms are different. I don't know if anyone else can see it; Kali said she could when I mention it, but she's also nice to me so it's hard to know, but there it is. Three weeks. I may have all sorts of issues about my appearance, but I get to look exactly the way I think I do far more than most people, and that's a privilege. The Wednesday to Monday gap with the fencing classes utterly sucks though; there's some ongoing noise about it eventually going to three days a week; a Saturday afternoon would rock my world.
Working on P.S. I Love You tomorrow and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
coyotegoth reports that if you ever wanted to see me naked, yes, you really only do have to go see Fur.
LJ is being wonky. Work got a certified letter and WHERE IS MY MONEY? Tonight I'll write the James Bond review for Associated Content and the Snakes Alive article for Gather.
I have a set of memories that lasts years, it seems, of moments in bar bathrooms, hands washed where I'd stop and look at myself in the mirror, just to assess, well, everything. I suppose most people do this when they are drinking, but I don't really know, I've never asked. Anyway those were the years of being young, of being insecure, of being with Michael or going to clubs lots. There was a lot to assess, and in those thiry seconds I would remind myself how to sit, what to say, that I was in a story, that I was, if nothing else, the most beautiful girl in the world, which didn't mean I was hot, just eerie. Last night, I took the pause, as I usually do -- I love mirrors as if it's a chance to see what no one else bothers to, maybe I'm just vain -- and had a moment of Damn. Three weeks, and my shoulders are different, my arms are different. I don't know if anyone else can see it; Kali said she could when I mention it, but she's also nice to me so it's hard to know, but there it is. Three weeks. I may have all sorts of issues about my appearance, but I get to look exactly the way I think I do far more than most people, and that's a privilege. The Wednesday to Monday gap with the fencing classes utterly sucks though; there's some ongoing noise about it eventually going to three days a week; a Saturday afternoon would rock my world.
Working on P.S. I Love You tomorrow and
coyotegoth reports that if you ever wanted to see me naked, yes, you really only do have to go see Fur.LJ is being wonky. Work got a certified letter and WHERE IS MY MONEY? Tonight I'll write the James Bond review for Associated Content and the Snakes Alive article for Gather.
