confessions colored by pms

confession: due to the copious hallucinogens i’ve ingested in my lifetime, flashbacks are a common occurrence in my daily life. certain songs, smells, places, and people can trigger a flashback for me. on sunday afternoon in my car i discovered that a certain dance move (rave-style) can also trigger a flashback. i enjoy the freebie trippy moments my mind and body give me, but i ought to stop flashback-inducing rave-dancing  while driving.

confession: he asked for three photos. i surprised myself by the first one i sent. the butt crack one didn’t surprise me. butts are funny. girl crack in copenhagen, germany was worth sending. he commented about the first one. he didn’t comment on my butt crack.

confession: i had a long honest conversation with the reflection in the mirror. hopefully she’ll listen.

confession: my favorite part of going to yoga class yesterday was getting in my car after class and blasting hip hop music. i love jarring my namaste with sex-driven bass beats.

confession: today was haircut day. my stylist blows out my hair and i leave with poofy straight hair (which defies logic) and i let her blow it out because she wants to, not because i want her to, and she puts fourteen different products in my hair which means i smell like the aveda hair product factory and i always want to shower when i get home but i make myself workout before i shower but that means my sweat mingles with multiple hair products which icks me just shy of gagging. i have lots of friends who are hair snobs but i love them in spite of their snobbiness and they love me in spite of my unkempt frizzy hair which physically and psychologically pains them to see and that’s kinda fun for me because i like torturing people i love about their snobbiness.

confession: the only reason today was haircut day is that i was procrastinating doing other stuff and i got stuck in a problem i haven’t yet figured out how to solve and my stylist had a last minute cancellation. i could’ve gone another month before i needed a trim.

confession: i’m pmsing and writing about my hair so that i don’t write about food, especially salty fried foods and chocolate. while i was at the salon waiting for my haircut and drinking the salon’s fancy tea with honey and lemon that tastes like sweetened dirt with a tangy aftereffect i read the umpteenth article in every bitch rag on magazine stands this month about power moves for flat abs and i made myself memorize the six suggested exercises (which actually just means remembering them since i already know them, because i wouldn’t be a half-decent 30-year-veteran eating disordered chick if i didn’t know the entire encyclopedia of abdominal exercises) and promise myself i’d do them when i got home but i haven’t…yet…because i’m pmsing and i don’t want to workout. i want salty fried foods followed by a mountain of chocolate and then wash the hair products out of my poofy straightened hair.

 

 

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About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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