I am currently having a bikini wax. I thought blogging would be a good way to distract myself from the skin ripping but of course, it’s pleasurable for me. Even better that I don’t have to make any effort. Weirdo that I am. But I hate the salon therapist small talk so I’ll just look like I’m working on my iPhone or something. Career woman who can’t switch off, she’ll think. Indispensable, she’ll reckon. If she only knew.
I just had a major dizzy/weak/prickly burning episode in a café. My Lady has taken ElsaDaughter and I on a two night break to a lovely big town with a famous festival running at the moment. Maybe I mentioned that last night. Sievehead.
So here we are. This morning I was very panicky, hot but clammy cold to the touch. Uneasy.
The (beauty, not psych, for once) therapist remarked that there’s not a bother on me, not a flinch. No, I’m used to this, worse than this. Rip them off a bit more forcefully if you want.
But we got here. Somehow. I wasn’t up to much in the car, couldn’t talk much. I get to the point that noise, especially voices, grate on my nerves to the point I have to walk away. Like Shouty Phone Company Woman. Or quietly spoken therapists. Or daughters. Or strangers. Or dogs, who talk to me in my own voice which is doubly strange as I’m both talking to my dogs and answering myself and my own internal voice is the primary source of sustained irritability.
Im back in our hotel room now. Bliss. My Lady and ElsaDaughter are out shopping. Give me a leg wax over a high street and branded paper bags anyday. I’m calmer now although I really should be out with them, enjoying the couple of days. But this solitude is what I crave. And if I get an hour of this then dinner out with my senior and junior might be dizzy free and maybe even a pleasant experience.