Feasting on fasting
So school starts in less than a week - it'll be our last first day, which is kind of scary, but whatever - and Mater and I have decided to go on a cleanse. Y'know, one of those healthy-hippie-veg-head things that I occasionally mock but partake in nonetheless. It's supposed to be for a minimum of ten days, but I'm only going to do two, and it's dinnertime of day one, and those croissants, and buttery and Parisian, look so tempting.
Anyhow, I'm taking these two days to be utterly indulgent and self-centered, and I'm not sure if it's a good thing. I plan on being deliciously antisocial and seeing no-one for these forty-eight hours, and I'll focus on chick flicks and bubble baths, on manicures and massages, and on plain water, some weird herbal tea, and the delicious blend of fresh-squeezed lemon juice, organic maple syrup, cayenne pepper and water. But that's okay. I don't feel particularly hungry, and I'm quite enjoying my unintellectual hours.
Let's see... I woke up late and read a pointless preteen novel over my AM cup of saltwater... I watched Legally Blonde... I bonded with my cat while lying on the deck in my bathing suit (it's not tanning because the point was to be all sleepy-lazy while basking in the sun, not to get darker) and reading Seventeen and Cosmo... I even watched one of those fluffy, insipid, SoCal-based teen soaps and am worried that I'll rent the whole first season one day... And I'll soon have a lovely long hot Jacuzzi bath. I'm so unproductive, and it's marvelous, an excellent reward for resisting the punnets of berries, the fresh baguettes and the mango smoothie that litter my fridge.
Here's where I could type in something punny about not feeding my stomach but feeding my soul, but that's a little too New Agey for moi, so I'll just let you know what never will be.
Hugs from the Tiber Valley!
Anyhow, I'm taking these two days to be utterly indulgent and self-centered, and I'm not sure if it's a good thing. I plan on being deliciously antisocial and seeing no-one for these forty-eight hours, and I'll focus on chick flicks and bubble baths, on manicures and massages, and on plain water, some weird herbal tea, and the delicious blend of fresh-squeezed lemon juice, organic maple syrup, cayenne pepper and water. But that's okay. I don't feel particularly hungry, and I'm quite enjoying my unintellectual hours.
Let's see... I woke up late and read a pointless preteen novel over my AM cup of saltwater... I watched Legally Blonde... I bonded with my cat while lying on the deck in my bathing suit (it's not tanning because the point was to be all sleepy-lazy while basking in the sun, not to get darker) and reading Seventeen and Cosmo... I even watched one of those fluffy, insipid, SoCal-based teen soaps and am worried that I'll rent the whole first season one day... And I'll soon have a lovely long hot Jacuzzi bath. I'm so unproductive, and it's marvelous, an excellent reward for resisting the punnets of berries, the fresh baguettes and the mango smoothie that litter my fridge.
Here's where I could type in something punny about not feeding my stomach but feeding my soul, but that's a little too New Agey for moi, so I'll just let you know what never will be.
Hugs from the Tiber Valley!