Not often do I feel alone, but, yesterday, between the hours of 11am and noon, I did.
Walking through the shopping mall; hand, leashless; heart, disgusted; I scurried past the greasy smell of Auntie Anne’s Pretzels and of the ho-ho-ho exclaiming Santa Clause who made imaginary promises to hopeful children. Feeling like a zombie was an understatement, but I was forced into this shopping mecca to have my MacBook Pro’s track pad replaced.
Fake conversations with the oh-so-dorky Apple Store man and with the annoying, newly hired take-out-girl for my veganised luau chicken salad later, I was home to Gwendolyn. And happy.
And we chose to fly away to the enchanted forest. ’Twas the prettiest November day of my life, except for my fat, which, of course, I am working upon.
No worries. The UnderArmour sweat pants paint the image of fat legs. But my legs, stationed at a conventional American Size Zero Point Five, are not fat. They are simply unacceptable to moi. Yet Gwendolyn sees me as perfect. She loves me without judgement.
Gwendolyn is perfect.
What makes you feel lonely, and how do you fill that void with love?
© Nicole Marie Story Enterprises, LLC and nicoleandgwendolyn.com, 2011, 2012.