In This Skin

Ah, pain.
Widespread, aching, throbbing, insane, everywhere and burning.
It got to the point where I did take a Soma, about two hours ago. I was dancing around the kitchen singing, "I wonder if this is how normal people feel." Adam laughed and told me he loved me. It was a night without tension or spasms. I took a Soma tonight, which means I can take another on Friday night or Saturday night, but not both. Twice a week, that's my rule.
I did squats for five whole minutes. I know it was five minutes; I timed it with the stove clock. I need to do more of those.
My gods, people, is this how not being in pain feels? I envy you. Every day for me, it's not "I am in pain!" it's "What kind of pain am I in?"
The problem with a prescription drug -- with any drug, even natural -- is that it is temporary. To get to the source requires a life change. I want to lie down and let the agony and exhaustion wash over me, but I can't I have things to do. I must push past the pain. I have been fighting since the minute I was born, two minutes to midnight. Why stop now?
I am babbling.

I concentrate on silly things. My skin tone is so difficult to match that the only foundations and concealers I can use must be ordered online from stage and theater and mineral cosmetic websites (Cinema Secrets, Ben Nye, Miessence, Cory Cosmetics), and I don't have yellow undertones after all or truly yellow foundations would work for me and they don't. My veins are blue. My skin is fair and porcelain white and rosy. I am neutral with a bare touch of pink. I am a Winter. But I can also wear foundation colors that are designed for pale Asian and pale olive skins. So that is interesting. But I can also tan well. I burn slightly at first and then I become golden. Romanian-Russian gives way to Italian.
Little things, you see. Little, silly things. I love skin care. I love examining a person's face and seeing if her skin is oily, dry, combination, normal, sensitive. I love recommending regimens and products. I love giving facial massages. I love advising. Take care of your skin, I say. You need to do this, but she needs to do that. I want friends to come to me and say, "Help me fix my skin problems."

I concentrate on small things. I have to, or I will effectively lose my mind.

Adam and I had stir fry with beef and string beans. We made brownies and dusted them with honey powder.

He is leaving for Nashville tomorrow.

I concentrate on small things. I have to, or I will effectively lose my mind.

I need to keep myself hopeful, if not happy. Fretting about everything does me no good.

In This Skin

Ah, pain.
Widespread, aching, throbbing, insane, everywhere and burning.
It got to the point where I did take a Soma, about two hours ago. I was dancing around the kitchen singing, "I wonder if this is how normal people feel." Adam laughed and told me he loved me. It was a night without tension or spasms. I took a Soma tonight, which means I can take another on Friday night or Saturday night, but not both. Twice a week, that's my rule.
I did squats for five whole minutes. I know it was five minutes; I timed it with the stove clock. I need to do more of those.
My gods, people, is this how not being in pain feels? I envy you. Every day for me, it's not "I am in pain!" it's "What kind of pain am I in?"
The problem with a prescription drug -- with any drug, even natural -- is that it is temporary. To get to the source requires a life change. I want to lie down and let the agony and exhaustion wash over me, but I can't I have things to do. I must push past the pain. I have been fighting since the minute I was born, two minutes to midnight. Why stop now?
I am babbling.

I concentrate on silly things. My skin tone is so difficult to match that the only foundations and concealers I can use must be ordered online from stage and theater and mineral cosmetic websites (Cinema Secrets, Ben Nye, Miessence, Cory Cosmetics), and I don't have yellow undertones after all or truly yellow foundations would work for me and they don't. My veins are blue. My skin is fair and porcelain white and rosy. I am neutral with a bare touch of pink. I am a Winter. But I can also wear foundation colors that are designed for pale Asian and pale olive skins. So that is interesting. But I can also tan well. I burn slightly at first and then I become golden. Romanian-Russian gives way to Italian.
Little things, you see. Little, silly things. I love skin care. I love examining a person's face and seeing if her skin is oily, dry, combination, normal, sensitive. I love recommending regimens and products. I love giving facial massages. I love advising. Take care of your skin, I say. You need to do this, but she needs to do that. I want friends to come to me and say, "Help me fix my skin problems."

I concentrate on small things. I have to, or I will effectively lose my mind.

Adam and I had stir fry with beef and string beans. We made brownies and dusted them with honey powder.

He is leaving for Nashville tomorrow.

I concentrate on small things. I have to, or I will effectively lose my mind.

I need to keep myself hopeful, if not happy. Fretting about everything does me no good.

In This Skin

Ah, pain.
Widespread, aching, throbbing, insane, everywhere and burning.
It got to the point where I did take a Soma, about two hours ago. I was dancing around the kitchen singing, "I wonder if this is how normal people feel." Adam laughed and told me he loved me. It was a night without tension or spasms. I took a Soma tonight, which means I can take another on Friday night or Saturday night, but not both. Twice a week, that's my rule.
I did squats for five whole minutes. I know it was five minutes; I timed it with the stove clock. I need to do more of those.
My gods, people, is this how not being in pain feels? I envy you. Every day for me, it's not "I am in pain!" it's "What kind of pain am I in?"
The problem with a prescription drug -- with any drug, even natural -- is that it is temporary. To get to the source requires a life change. I want to lie down and let the agony and exhaustion wash over me, but I can't I have things to do. I must push past the pain. I have been fighting since the minute I was born, two minutes to midnight. Why stop now?
I am babbling.

I concentrate on silly things. My skin tone is so difficult to match that the only foundations and concealers I can use must be ordered online from stage and theater and mineral cosmetic websites (Cinema Secrets, Ben Nye, Miessence, Cory Cosmetics), and I don't have yellow undertones after all or truly yellow foundations would work for me and they don't. My veins are blue. My skin is fair and porcelain white and rosy. I am neutral with a bare touch of pink. I am a Winter. But I can also wear foundation colors that are designed for pale Asian and pale olive skins. So that is interesting. But I can also tan well. I burn slightly at first and then I become golden. Romanian-Russian gives way to Italian.
Little things, you see. Little, silly things. I love skin care. I love examining a person's face and seeing if her skin is oily, dry, combination, normal, sensitive. I love recommending regimens and products. I love giving facial massages. I love advising. Take care of your skin, I say. You need to do this, but she needs to do that. I want friends to come to me and say, "Help me fix my skin problems."

I concentrate on small things. I have to, or I will effectively lose my mind.

Adam and I had stir fry with beef and string beans. We made brownies and dusted them with honey powder.

He is leaving for Nashville tomorrow.

I concentrate on small things. I have to, or I will effectively lose my mind.

I need to keep myself hopeful, if not happy. Fretting about everything does me no good.