The Desperate Diet
Google is on fire these days. “How to lose 9 kilos in 5 days”. You change the numbers and the metric systems and you press enter again. You act like a crazy person. Stop it. It’s too late. Either learn how to suck your stomach in, or accept your extra love handles. It’s fine. Who cares? You’ll lose it when you’re ready. You just got out from months locked at home, next to your fridge, your delivery guy’s scooter was your favourite sound. Be easy on yourself. Nothing depends on your little extra quarantine weight.
The pants you never wear cause they’re so uncomfortable you swear you won’t buy their kind again but then there’s that day during ovulation and you have just watched Lopez dancing naked and you buy them again. Now you have a drawer full of them, with tags on, some oversized, some tiny, depending on the month you bought them. Your man has never seen them and when he does, he’ll probably think you lead a double life or have a night job. There’s no way to prove your innocence cause you pack them in the hope you’ll make an appearance at the holiday resort, cause that’s what they do in movies but the reality is you went out to dinner, you had too much wine and you most probably won’t even take your make up off, let alone your sexy laced underwear you had on all night, itching and squeezing and it’s now too tired to show up, just like you. Go to sleep, this was a huge mistake. It always is.
The Coffee Press
You carry it with you everywhere cause you need a coffee, to help out your bowels and then do your job, shower and go sit by the pool for breakfast pretending that’s how you wake up, serene, fresh and carefree and that your second coffee is your first. You can enjoy it all cause you’ve taken care of your business and everybody’s happy, plus your man who is infinitely less neurotic cause he doesn’t have feminine hormones (and doesn’t create life as a consequence so is not entitled to an opinion) will have his breakfast first, and then go about his number two like a normal person by which time, the bathroom will be fresh and clear for him without any signs of human nature from your end. Genius or what?
An average holiday nowadays, if one’s lucky, is a week. Exactly how many books do you think you can read in a week? One? One is a good answer. Even that one book will need an alignment of factors to successfully conclude itself. Like, the resort is shit and you’re trying to forget about it, you had a fight with your partner and it’s a good way to ignore them, your phone battery is dead (dedicated to iphone users) and you don’t have a power bank (all iphone users do, they’re not stupid). Ofcourse there’s the highly unlikely possibility that the book is amazing but really, how many page turners do you come across in a year? What are the chances? So, again, my point, if all this is the case, you read one book. Please tell me why you have to carry five books with you and buy some more on your way? What kind of high hopes do you set on those seven days of holiday? What’s next? A summer resort for postgraduate studies? Meh…
Yes, sunscreen please, very important. The problem begins when you carry the whole swiss lab of cosmetology. You are never gonna use it all! Just like books, all these bottles and jars and whatnots are taking space in your luggage in vain. You haven’t used them since last summer’s online sale when you bought them, you’re not gonna use them now. You don’t live inside a commercial. Wear sunscreen, wear a day cream for extra water. The rest is a stupid purchase you made so you don’t eat that fourth piece of cake and you don’t call that loser who told you it’s not you, it’s him.
Have a lovely summer, take care of yourselves and remember to always find ways to fill your luggage, without baggage. For those who might notice, I probably won’t be posting this Sunday cause I will be on holiday myself, with small luggage, some baggage but also with much appreciation for being able to experience the Greek islands this summer. Be good and stay cool.