Wednesday, August 10, 2016


Hey! I decided I'd write a post simply as an excuse to sit down. Funny how I still feel like I need to make excuses when I want to, you know, rest. Funny how I associate "resting" with "failure" and "guilt." Funny how I associate a lot of pleasurable and often necessary aspects of life with guilt. Funny! Funny! Funny! A laugh a second, a second of laughter, laughter is the best medicine unless you have irritable bowel syndrome and then maybe laughter should be lower on the list of medicines to take. Although not too low because guess what? IBS is often a side-effect of anxiety and stress. And laughter relieves anxiety and stress. And so I guess you can say that laughter is a fairly effective medicine when it comes to chronic gas/bloating/constipation/diarrhea. Why am I writing so much about irritable bowel syndrome? Well, only because I am almost certain I have it and this is my blog and this is my brain and the words you read here are the thoughts that are going through that aforementioned brain.

"Aforementioned." Look at me, an IBS sufferer and occasional guilt-ridden rester, using fancy college words. Is "aforementioned" a college word? What even are college words? I assume more college-y words would be kegger and dreadlocks and crippling student debt.

Yeah, I didn't stay sitting for long. But I only got up because I had to pee. I got to sit down to pee (in case you were wondering), though, which was nice. Yep. Just telling you far, far too much. It was not my intention to mention details of what goes on when I go to the ladies room, but then again, I'm no lady. I am a sexless alien trapped in the body of a lady.

I am also so freakin' tired. I don't think I realize how tired I am because I am always tired, thus tiredness is the new norm. (Don't worry, mom! I will work on getting to bed earlier! No need to be anxious about this! Love you!) Those parenthetical exclamations were humorous, yes, but they were also a window into why I struggle with food and the body -- because I am a people pleaser. A perfectionist. Always trying to be everything to everyone, glossing over any problems or issues, forgetting to pay attention to my own needs and desires. I feel like I just described most women I know. Sigh. Let's knock down this patriarchal system, ladies! And men! And gender fluid humans! And, yes, even you sneaky aliens.

I got up again. I can't remember why. It's unimportant. What IS important, however, is that I venture outside and lose (and find) myself in some clouds. I can -- and should -- do this while freely lounging in a damn hammock. It is National Lazy Day, after all.

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