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So, there’s me, standing on the street, minding my own business. After few minutes of such performance, a woman comes along. She stops and starts some light conversation, adding that she is just waiting for her husband to pick her up. A minute later, a car stops, the woman smiles, waves to her good man, turns to me and… She hugs me! She really hugged me! Like she knew me for years. I met a real true street hugger!

I was so surprised that I just stood there and remembered to pat her on the back because I really didn’t know what else to do. And it was a long hug. I mean, I don’t know if my mother hugged me for that long in my whole life. Don’t get me wrong, the woman seemed really pleasant, but I was so shocked that I was blinking like an idiot way after she was gone.

What in the world came to her? Why would you hug a total stranger? On the street, someone you don’t know, who is just sharing a piece of a public space with you for few minutes. And she looked really happy during and after the act. Then she got me thinking, maybe I looked sad and she thought that I needed it. If I did, maybe I should wear a t-shirt with the sign “It’s just my face. Move along”. I’m not a big hugger. I have only a few friends with which I would do it and those hugs are saved for special occasions, like birthdays and so. OK, few more when one of those friends gets a little drunk and starts to compulsively hug everyone around.

But somehow, that day that woman felt the need to do it.

And I accepted it.

You know what?

I have probably deserved it, 177. Bear hug

 

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You see a cute little top. Not too pricey. You realize they are selling it in many colors. Fabulous! Then you start thinking how great it will look with your summer jeans. The fabric on the picture looks amazing, it’s falling exactly as it should. Oh, and you bought that charming bag at the end of the last summer which would be perfect in that combo! Yeah, that’s your look for this year’s hot summer days.

But then you stop. You remember that you can’t fit in those jeans anymore. And you tried. God knows you tried. You’ve been pulling holding your breath until you almost fainted, tried lying on your bed, cursing yourself and all those pastries you had in the past few months. Sooooo, the cute top is off.

Then you remember your feet. It’s their grand opening, they have to look good. Real good. You take the cautious look and… No, that is not flattering. You should really get right to it. And what happened to your waist? Where did it go? Just vanished, without a simple “off for holidays” or “call me if you need me” note. Looking at your wardrobe you realize that ALL of your clothes are meant for somebody thin, not you. What the hell are you supposed to wear this summer?

And then you see all those memes “yay, the summer is here!” and you want to punch all of their smug faces. Or at least move to Island for the next three months. Which turns out to be a bad idea because apparently, Island is not giving the seasonal asylum to appareallingly challenged.

You’re left with no choice, stuck here with all your micro clothes. Thinking if someone will call you to a toga party.

Because you deserve it, 177. Summer is coming

 

When he met her she seemed like the sweetest thing. So caring and loving, full of compassion and understanding for everyone, a little emotional, yes, but all in all a wonderful creature. They married and she was possibly the greatest wife ever.

And then the baby arrived.

The little bundle of joy made him incredibly happy. He couldn’t wait to get back home from work just to see his precious little girl.  But as the time passed it turned out that this was his primary role – to watch the baby. Literally. No picking up or such nonsense because according to his dear wife, he wasn’t doing it right, he could drop the baby, that was not the proper way to change the diapers, she said, turn off the TV because it’s bad for the little one, she hissed. And the things went on and on.

The first year passed, then the second. Mommy dearest turned into Momzilla. All that hissing and biting spread on other people. Almost all the people. She started writing long angry posts on the social networks about anything that she couldn’t stand and it was all connected to their little girl. She was angry at people on the street because they were talking too loud when she took her little one on a walk. She had a fight with every neighbor in their building because she suspected one is smoking in his flat, the second was cooking something she could smell, the other was listening the music the baby could hear, and the list could go on and on. Nobody could visit them in their apartment because they were all annoying and not good for their daughter. In the meanwhile, the little girl continued to grow and started to become, well, to put it simply, a spoiled brat. That kind of a child that must always be the center of the universe, that won’t allow any adult to actually say the whole sentence without her screaming, yelling or throwing things just to get attention. Because everyone all the time must be listening what she had to say. All must be listening to her. Like her mother does.

As the time passed, the husband started to become quieter. He was still adoring his little one but from a distance. Because this was the only way he was allowed. He was sad and as the years come by, ashamed. Because of his wife behavior. Because of that mean, harsh and vicious woman she has become. And afraid that his little one is starting to grow into the same type as her momma. So he tried to talk with his once lovely wife, but then he discovered the hell’s fury. Her family tried to put some sense into it, but she furiously chased them away. Their friends tried a gentle approach and she spilled all her wrath on them.

And finally, she became bitter. Because from her point of view people were horrible, selfish, they betrayed her,  and she was just trying to raise her child. Not realizing that she is the mother source for all that misery.

Love is grand. Love is beautiful. Love can exist in so many ways and transform into most incredible shapes. But only if we respect it. And the people who are giving it.

Because we all deserve it, 177. Momzilla