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So, I`m standing in a line at the post office, patiently waiting for my turn and minding my own business. Suddenly I hear a quarrel and the woman in front of me storms off angry as hell.

“Did you see that?!” the clearly surprised and offended bank employee asks me behind the counter.

“Ahm, actually… No. Not really.” I reply, hoping that she won`t drag me into her own personal drama because I already lost half an hour standing there. As it turned out – I was wrong.

“All I did was to congratulate her on her pregnancy! How in the hell should I know that she`s just obese?!” – the woman continued clearly upset.

Aaaaaaand that was it. I could, heavens know I could zip it, ignore it and do what I was supposed to and get the hell out of there. But no, for some reason, I decided to open my mouth and reveal to her my point of view.

“Well, for the sake of argument, let`s say that I congratulate you know for being blessed. How come you are obviously not, the only logical explanation is that you are fat. Now, tell me, would that be a compliment or would you spend the whole day nagging and cursing?”

There she is, looking at me, not sure should she punch me in the face, throw a stapler at my reasonably big head or argue with me too. Honestly, it looked like a scene from a spaghetti western. You could almost hear Good, Bad and the Ugly soundtrack.  And then she decided, wisely, if I may add, to just sigh and say:

“You people are all so unreasonable…”

I had a friend with the similar situation – some girl she hasn`t seen in years told her “Oh my God! You are pregnant!” At the time my friend was on some insanely hard diet, trying to chase away the extra pounds, tormented by hunger and those skinny jeans that look good only on the window shop dolls. She was hurt by those words. So hurt that she started crying in the middle of the club.

Then when about those nasty bladder infections? I don`t know about you but during it, my tummy has a life of its own – it grows in all directions. Before that event, it never occurred to me that someone may think that I got pregnant.

The thing is that I don`t think that that girl or the woman in the post office wanted to be mean. That was just plain stupid. Inconsiderate and dumb. And in the end, why in the world would someone else be bothered by the size of your stomach? Why would they even care? The answer is – maybe not intentionally, but they are still proud on their flat tummy. So damn proud that they will use every possible situation, not even thinking about, to show to the world that THEY are the proud owners of a nice flat belly area. And you are not.

Honestly? I dont mind to have it unless it really starts to mess with my clothes. You know the situation; you really want to go to work in that pair of pants but somehow they refuse to collaborate and let you in. I love to eat. I really truly enjoy every bite. And I have a love-hate relationship with my scale. Usually, I swear it, get angry and ignore the damn thing for weeks. Then, after the loud argument with my favorite pants, I humbly get back to the scale almost praying to find a revelation that I haven`t climbed for few more pounds. And almost every time the scale starts to laugh frantically and I march away from it.

But does it matter? No.

I’ve spent years in dieting, almost died in a gym, (well, it felt like it) and spent money on several magic potions. And yes, I lost few pounds, then started to eat again and after it, I was right at the start. I really hope that I won`t allow myself to turn myself into a whale one day, but after all those years I came to the conclusion that my quality of life and how much I enjoy in it is what is important.

Not the size, not the weight, and definitely not random strangers and their opinions.

And that should be the motto of all of us.

In my world, the only blessing I need is my personal happiness. And I do hope that it’s yours too.

Because we deserve it, 174.

 

 

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We all know stories about arranged marriages when the family find the perfect spouse. And yes, we think it’s weird, unfair, ridiculous and humiliating. But what if the future bride arranges her own marriage?

She was 32, fairly good-looking, independent, willful and above all – sick and tired of dating. You know the drill: trying to look your best, to please, compromise, be tolerant, patient, interesting, funny, will-he-call-should-I-call-him-and-how-long-should-I-wait, hell, the whole popular package. Our heroine had really enough of it. So she decided that it’s about damn time that she gets married and leave the whole complicated dating scene. For good.

So she picks a guy, someone she’s been told that he is a good and reliable man, checks his Facebook page and… simply sends him a message. Something completely ordinary like: “Hi there! Would like to go out for a drink?”. He responds, they meet, she’s not pushy or complicated and then offers him to take another drink next week. He agrees, she seems like a pleasant person. The week after that they went on a simple dinner, then on a weekend out of town and before you know it, 3 months later, they started to live together. After 9 months she calls telling that they are engaged to be married. Just like that.

Through all that time, we’re all been baffled – how in the world you can just decide to get married for a guy you don’t even know, before you spent one day with him? Then she simply said: “Look, I knew what I want – a good, peaceful life with a nice man. And he is a nice man, so what’s not to love? I love him, our life together and our days to come. In the end, it’s simple, really, you love what you choose and I have chosen to be happy. Yes, I could chase rainbows for years, but a quiet happiness is what I really need.”

And she did it. She actually did it. Married the guy, had a son, and they are still living happily ever after. Because that’s what she decided, to be happy on her own terms.

You know what, after all those love shipwrecks, I can honestly say that she deserves every dash of joy she can get.

After all, don’t we all?

Because we deserve it, vol. Husbands choosing187.

Do Less to Impress

Years back, my mother started a tradition – when guests are arriving all hell must break loose.

It doesn’t matter who is coming, the preparations must be professionally done for any guest. The president or a family member, the drill is the same: everyone must lose their minds in hectic cleaning and occasional shopping for the new furniture. And it doesn’t help if you try to intervene with a casual “But it’s only aunt Kate” or “Mom, she will stay only a day, we really don’t need a new mattress”. When you try to make a joke that you are not living in a museum but in a house where people are actually living – brace yourself for a fury storm.

This is why I found myself anxiously turning around, trying to find everything which I must clean, move and throw into the trash. My head was throbbing, my palms were wet and all because of a family member coming for a visit. But then I stopped – why in the world would I do this? I am who I am, my living room is always crowded with books and a thousand little things that make it my home. Yes, my home. Not some strange sterile place meant to present someone’s ideal picture of what a house should be. And even if the guest finds it ugly or repulsive in any way – well, tough luck!

Expectations, that is the problem. Trying to fulfill someone else’s possible expectations of what we should be. Even if we are someone completely different than the person we are trying to present.

So, this is how it’s going to be – I will do a little dusting, clean the table and the floor and this is it. No more and no less. Because this is who I am: a casual person and lazy housekeeper but a friendly host. Because I would prefer to be hosted by someone who is laid back and pleasant, not a nervous wreck and cleaning freak. Starting a tradition f my own, doing less to pleasantly impress.

Because I deserve it, 179.

Cleainging house

Aquatella's Blog

QueenThere was a time when she would wait for his call. The same call which would mean that He is on his way. His arrival was always something special: flowers in his hand, a nice dinner, lots of laughs, and pretty good sex. She loved the way he was looking at her with those deep brown eyes, always hiding a spark of something unsaid. He was polite, kind and thoughtful. And distant.

Yes, distant. At first, she was sure that it was just a result of physical distance. He lived in another city and they didn’t have the luxury of everyday things, like a simple afternoon stroll in the park. And she didn’t mind, not really, thinking that these are the perks of the long-distance relationship – every date and every weekend are special. But a year passed. Then another. Their third anniversary came so quickly that it surprised even her…

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