I have been receiving (is it ie or ei – god I’m a bad sub) mixed reactions to the colour of this blog but as Blogthings says ‘I am a yellow crayon’.
I don’t feel like a yellow crayon though. Warm and fuzzy or whatever. I feel black – no grey. Last night it closed all around me and I ended up shouting at V while we were both on the treadmill in the gym (not on the same one – if we could fit on the same treadmill we wouldn’t be in the gym). I wouldn’t have shouted if it hadn’t been for the noise in the gym and V making patronizing remarks such as ‘you should be grateful for your job’ – as if I didn’t know – when I was mid-rant. The guy running next to us must have been pretty scared because contrary to popular belief these Cantos sneakily also speak English – though they refuse to. Then I stomped off to the bathroom to cry. And when I came back V was gone – to another machine – but the Canto guy was still running. How long can a person run anyway?
And anyone who said that it’s good to excercise when you’re depressed is wrong. It is only good to sit down and eat chocolate and imbibe vodka (neat) and cigarettes (if your husband does not threaten to throw a tantrum that will overtake yours). When I am depressed I feel like I cannot move a step – so thick is the fog of everything – so running is pretty ambitious. So now, not only am I depressed but fat too – though when I weighed in I had lost a kilo (V has unkindly pointed out that I always rejoice when I lose a kilo but if I put on a kilo I attribute it to ‘daily fluctuations’ – hmph! Really V should be cured of stating the obvious).
When V and I next saw each other – after I lamely attempted to work on my abs – we were sheepish and loving (and slightly sweaty yuck – gym romances always astound me. For the longest time I refused to join the gym with V because I didn’t want him to see me sweaty although we were already married. I was going through a phase that was contrary to popular wisdom that said that you should let your partner see the true you and instead was going for being attractive at all times so that your partner thinks you’re wonderful. However, I have abandoned that as is obvious to anyone who has seen me in my flat lounging around with some old vest on refusing to have a bath despite V’s pleading. I mean think of the wells running dry by our compulsive bathing).
Ok this post has been pretty random but I felt obliged to entertain – did I? I am not going to start on the cause of my depression – same old same old.