I got up, chatted on the PC and read most of the morning, went for a nap, had some (too much) food, spent some more time reading, had a long relaxing shower and now I am here, ready to write.
About? About how much I love being home by myself, doing my own things. It's a precious treasure, my privacy. It's just... that I can relax I can stop worrying.
Worrying about being beautiful (the strange thing for somebody who hates her body when I am in public, is that when I am on my own I feel beautiful. I love my long slightly curly hair that has been dyed with hennè so many times that has all the shades of red in it. I like the look in my eyes, light brown but not less beautiful for that. I even like the heavy curves of my breast tights and belly)
Worrying about showing off. I am a perfectionist to the point of damaging myself and when I know something I like showing it off for people, even if I am afraid of the potential price. Envy is one price. Being wrong and ending up looking dumb is the other.
Worrying about my illness showing. Being too hyper, too cheerful (although I have found myself laughing more since I started working in the new job. Surely the new colleagues help a lot,) or too dark, so tense that I bite the inside of my mouth.
There's nothing of this once I close the door of my home. I am smart, pretty, sane in her.
About? About how much I love being home by myself, doing my own things. It's a precious treasure, my privacy. It's just... that I can relax I can stop worrying.
Worrying about being beautiful (the strange thing for somebody who hates her body when I am in public, is that when I am on my own I feel beautiful. I love my long slightly curly hair that has been dyed with hennè so many times that has all the shades of red in it. I like the look in my eyes, light brown but not less beautiful for that. I even like the heavy curves of my breast tights and belly)
Worrying about showing off. I am a perfectionist to the point of damaging myself and when I know something I like showing it off for people, even if I am afraid of the potential price. Envy is one price. Being wrong and ending up looking dumb is the other.
Worrying about my illness showing. Being too hyper, too cheerful (although I have found myself laughing more since I started working in the new job. Surely the new colleagues help a lot,) or too dark, so tense that I bite the inside of my mouth.
There's nothing of this once I close the door of my home. I am smart, pretty, sane in her.