Dear self image,
Oh you sweet, silly thing. You have this adorable idea in your head that being the international woman of mystery is sexy and sophisticated, when actually, being the international woman of mystery, means you arrive with five extra pounds and looking bedraggled like fat, fat the water rat, and feeling about as light and graceful as the plane you came on, and it’s going to take a good day for each hour of time difference before you feel normal again. So don’t go stepping on that scale and depressing yourself for at least the first week. Pretty soon you’ll feel better, (and lighter). PS. You know all of this!
I love you and want you to have the best of everything, and have really, really tried to live with your crinkly tube toy, and especially since it only cost $3 at the charity shop, but I can’t stand looking at that tacky leopard print. It reminds me of a call girl’s mini skirt, and, even if IT was cheap, I know YOU don’t want to be. So play your little hearts out…it doesn’t have long to live.
Dear smuggled San Francisco jade plant,
What can I say? I’m so completely over the moon in love with you and your little roots and new little green shoots. Thank you or not dying in my absence. I’m sorry I couldn’t find a way to smuggle your British orchid sister to Vancouver, but then we probably would have been pushing our luck and, if I go to jail, who will admire you and write you love letters? So the best thing for you to do to say thank you for my love is to grow your little heart out. Grow for two. Glad you see things my way.
Dear my mobile phone provider,
Stop calling me at suppertime! Stop calling me pushing your new contracts! Stop calling Chloe! Stop trying to sign me up for new options! Stop trying to explain those options when I tell you I’m busy making supper! Stop trying to argue when I say I don’t want my monthly bill to increase! Stop trying to insist that an increase of $7 will be the same as the contracts I have right now…$7!…That’s almost two Sbux chai tea lattes right there! You know what, tell me when your suppertime is and I’ll call you.
Do you see this right here, this tile? Last week you insisted you could never make something like this and this week you’re considering a series of bespoke tiles for the fireplace. How hard can it be? You can figure out how to do anything, let alone design, paint, and fire a few poxy tiles. So do myself a favour and disregard the odds against anything you ever feel like you want myself to do. Now follow your instincts, listen to inner desires, and be determined and persistent. Now chant this seventeen times/day.
Now that I got that off my chest, I’m sharing with Nancy 😀