I love my boss. On top of being quite cute (good style, hair and shoulders) he is smart, understanding, values my work and is altogether the best support I could have by my side on a day like today.
Why today? Jake is in town. Flying in from somewhere, on his way to somewhere else.
He was going to come in last night. I prepared for the occasion living mostly on a liquid diet for a week. I have been to the gym practically everyday and am attending Pilates classes at night as well. And, contrarily to all I have affirmed to my friends who are quite surprised by my sudden addiction to endorphins, I had been hoping to get into my size 8 skinny jeans.
So I got up early this morning, showered, blew dry my hair and squeezed into them! Victory! Then I looked in the mirror and - it looked as if I’d squeezed into them !!!! My love handles (the largest hypocrisy in English language) were bulging at the waist and my shirt looked really weird. Damn, damn, damn!
So I went into the ritualistic, hysteria lane process of changing clothes – and after 4 tries I decided black is beautiful, black is safe. Strapped on my brown boots (these boots are made for walking…) and left the house. Came to work listening to “Love is in my fingers, love is in my toes” in Gonzalo´s car. Thank God that tune is so corny it makes me laugh rather than daydream.
And I just went to tell my boss I wouldn’t be coming back this afternoon, as I’d meet Jake at lunch and he was so cool about it I almost cried. Plus, smart enough to say I look great today, which, whether it is or not true, definitely helps and lets me know he cares enough to want me to feel good. (did I mention he plays the bass and I like his music?)
Back to Jake. Which, by the way, I know is boring - all obsessions are if the obsessed protagonist isn’t into murdering the victim or papering the whole town with naked pictures of him.
I was expecting to have dinner with him last night, but he lost some connection and is only going to manage lunch today. Which is safer, as he has to fly out of town again just after dessert, making the possibility of my pouncing on him and forcing him to make love to me minimum. He could, of course, have a heart attack whilst he was at it and feel some of the pain I did, but handling a naked dead corpse is so not my style...
I am wondering what his approach is going to be. I had thought cold and final, but his last messages (no, no calls, he doesn’t do calls) called me “amore” and said I am still “his Diane”. Am I hopeful? Did an apple fall on Newton’s head?
Why today? Jake is in town. Flying in from somewhere, on his way to somewhere else.
He was going to come in last night. I prepared for the occasion living mostly on a liquid diet for a week. I have been to the gym practically everyday and am attending Pilates classes at night as well. And, contrarily to all I have affirmed to my friends who are quite surprised by my sudden addiction to endorphins, I had been hoping to get into my size 8 skinny jeans.
So I got up early this morning, showered, blew dry my hair and squeezed into them! Victory! Then I looked in the mirror and - it looked as if I’d squeezed into them !!!! My love handles (the largest hypocrisy in English language) were bulging at the waist and my shirt looked really weird. Damn, damn, damn!
So I went into the ritualistic, hysteria lane process of changing clothes – and after 4 tries I decided black is beautiful, black is safe. Strapped on my brown boots (these boots are made for walking…) and left the house. Came to work listening to “Love is in my fingers, love is in my toes” in Gonzalo´s car. Thank God that tune is so corny it makes me laugh rather than daydream.
And I just went to tell my boss I wouldn’t be coming back this afternoon, as I’d meet Jake at lunch and he was so cool about it I almost cried. Plus, smart enough to say I look great today, which, whether it is or not true, definitely helps and lets me know he cares enough to want me to feel good. (did I mention he plays the bass and I like his music?)
Back to Jake. Which, by the way, I know is boring - all obsessions are if the obsessed protagonist isn’t into murdering the victim or papering the whole town with naked pictures of him.
I was expecting to have dinner with him last night, but he lost some connection and is only going to manage lunch today. Which is safer, as he has to fly out of town again just after dessert, making the possibility of my pouncing on him and forcing him to make love to me minimum. He could, of course, have a heart attack whilst he was at it and feel some of the pain I did, but handling a naked dead corpse is so not my style...
I am wondering what his approach is going to be. I had thought cold and final, but his last messages (no, no calls, he doesn’t do calls) called me “amore” and said I am still “his Diane”. Am I hopeful? Did an apple fall on Newton’s head?
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