One more day, one more hangover. Last night was Flora´s birthday and we were up speaking about Jake (yes, I know, this is getting boring) until 2am. And drinking. Flora is my closest friend in town. We decided on a quiet dinner for her birthday, at her home, including her family - husband, 2 kids - and myself.
We got all dressed up and I noticed my favourite party dress is tighter than usual. I officially hate Jake! Breaking my heart is one thing; making me gain weight is so not acceptable!
To make matters worse, I had a presentation first thing in the morning. A very boring presentation. But it did include fresh croissant, so Fatso and Her Hangover had 2. And 2 cups of coffee with milk and sugar. What´s wrong with me? Someone tie me down!
Flora said that Jake is a selfish bastard. She also said we are going to get back together, but I think she said that because she loves me and knows that hearing it from her makes me hurt less. She knows that it´s what I want and that I would love to believe it, that these fantasies make life possible when one is feeling down. Or hungover.
I used to have the best fantasies in the world. The house that Jake and I would share, how we would read by the fireplace and exchange intelligent conversation in our old age. Our gorgeous and brilliant children. Yeah, yeah, yeah – I know - going over these scenes is masochism, an act of self-inflicted pain guaranteed to keep me feeling sorry for myself and not get on with my life.
Like the croissant. I know it will hurt me, but I just can´t keep my dirty little fingers away.
We got all dressed up and I noticed my favourite party dress is tighter than usual. I officially hate Jake! Breaking my heart is one thing; making me gain weight is so not acceptable!
To make matters worse, I had a presentation first thing in the morning. A very boring presentation. But it did include fresh croissant, so Fatso and Her Hangover had 2. And 2 cups of coffee with milk and sugar. What´s wrong with me? Someone tie me down!
Flora said that Jake is a selfish bastard. She also said we are going to get back together, but I think she said that because she loves me and knows that hearing it from her makes me hurt less. She knows that it´s what I want and that I would love to believe it, that these fantasies make life possible when one is feeling down. Or hungover.
I used to have the best fantasies in the world. The house that Jake and I would share, how we would read by the fireplace and exchange intelligent conversation in our old age. Our gorgeous and brilliant children. Yeah, yeah, yeah – I know - going over these scenes is masochism, an act of self-inflicted pain guaranteed to keep me feeling sorry for myself and not get on with my life.
Like the croissant. I know it will hurt me, but I just can´t keep my dirty little fingers away.
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