May 21st, 2015


(no subject)

The bike ride felt like a cop-out. 5 flat miles where I hadn't really pushed myself, punctuated by a delicious lunch with a friend. I'd locked up the bike moments earlier, fully intending to ride further before the day was out, and collected my stuff.

Upon opening the door, a blast of too-hot air greeted me. I dropped my stuff, and verging on losing my lunch, stepped back outside. On the third try in the door, I was finally able to stay inside with just one more retch. I desperately felt the need to be free of what covered my head, but at the same time, I wasn't okay with what removing it would share about me.

I'd looked into it when the problem first happened. I had to assume my changing body chemistry had triggered it. The other option, given what I found, was pregnancy. The mere concept that I'd conceived seemed like a cruel joke. But here I was, for the second day in a row debilitated by a sudden rise in temperature. I pushed thoughts of what it meant for my future out of my head as quickly as they arose.

I hate myself for my vanity. I've not always respected my body, even if at this point in life I have finally learned its value. But the shortcomings of what I do have, perhaps superficial, are still hard to face consistently. I can tell you I've resolved to address it. But the truth is I will deal the best I can having no other choice, and that dealing will unfortunately offer you countless opportunities to see me falter for the foreseeable future.

Be gentle. Please.