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| Currently not cleaning my mirror. Not now, not ever. |
Feeling itchy. So okay, the backs of my legs are almost always itchy and have been for a lot of years and I don’t know why. Especially the little secret parts behind my knees. Sometimes in the shower I put the water on as hot as it will go and lean forward so that only the bottom part of my body is under the faucet and let it throw hot water on my stupid itchy legs while I balance my weight on the very not-sturdy shelf I put together at the end of the tub and listen to Amberlynn Reid on Youtube via the brand-new phone Diego got me for Christmas that I’m not only using to watch trolls on the internet in my very wet bathroom but have also already dropped into a bowl of eggs and cinnamon that I was using to make French toast and I think, “This is why everybody hates you.” But it feels good for a minute. The hot water. Anyway I’d been at work for about an hour this morning when I noticed one of my elbows was very itchy, so I kept scratching it and finally I looked at it and it’s all red and puffy. My legs usually aren’t. When they’re itchy. Usually they’re not red either but they are often quite puffy. Then it was my other elbow, and up my arm a little, and now the FRONT PARTS of my legs are getting itchy but I can’t check and see if they’re red because you’re supposed to keep your pants on at work mostly. I guess I could go in the bathroom but also I don’t want to take my pants off, like that’s why I quit ballet when I was a kid because I didn’t like that I couldn’t wear underwear with the leotard and something about taking my underwear all the way off and putting the tights and the leotard on and taking the tights and the leotard back off and putting my underwear back on just seemed like a lot of effort for one night of sequin-y glory a year. Also my mom yelled at me because I kept moving around while she was trying to put makeup on my face and I cried because my bun was too tight and both of my armpits are rashy and itchy too, now. And my scalp a little too.
Anticipating the Women’s March on Saturday. Look, guys:
Things I Like To Do in Parks
Read.
Sneakily imbibe.
Lay quietly.
Maybe swing.
Things I Do Not Like To Do in Parks
Exercise.
Most group activities.
Be physically uncomfortable (see also: most group activities).
Things I Like To Do on Sidewalks
Walk. ALONE.
I don’t have the right temperament for a lot of demonstration-like activities, and also I not-so-secretly think that most of the “protests” that’ve blipped on my personal radar are way too vague and not nearly well-thought-out enough to have any meaningful impact. (I’m not saying protesting is stupid, just that I’ve seen a whole hell of a lot of stupid protests. Be wise with your resources, sweet summer children.) I also don't want to involve myself in anything hateful, even if the hate is directed toward something I don't like.
However I do believe that protesting can be VERY powerful and impactful, if executed correctly, so in that spirit I will be participating on Saturday. I’m very lucky because the company I work for is paying for a bus for anyone who wants to go. Also there will be sandwiches on the bus. (“So basically you need there to be a free bus full of sandwiches in order for you to stand up for anything,” you said. “YES OBVIOUSLY THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I AM SAYING,” I replied. “YOU REALLY NAILED IT. ALSO I NEED TEGAN AND SARA AND GLORIA STEINEM TO BE THERE AND THEY’RE ALL IN SO I AM ALSO IN.”)
Truthfully the anticipation is erring a bit on the edge of nervousness – I fully expect to walk directly into a shit show, but I also fully expect that everyone get to go about their lives without being dehumanized. Or, you know, be forced to LIVE in a shit show. So. Here we are.
Eating steamed broccoli. I only need twenty-nine bags of it per day to feel almost satiated!
Bleeding moderately, as of this afternoon. Which I at first thought might make this weekend rather inconvenient, but then I realized that when life gives you a uterus you could potentially use its product to make a political statement, say, on the lawn of the White House. (I don’t know why our organizer feels the need to continually remind me that “this is a peaceful gathering” and “nothing should happen that you could get arrested for” and on and on and on. Like, I get it lady, geez.)
Wishing I still had my purple Lion King sweat suit (also The Little Mermaid one) to wear to The Lion King on Sunday. Or to wear to anywhere, really.
Feeling also tired now because I took some Benadryl because of being so itchy. I guess it’s harder to feel itches when you’re sleeping.
