Satirical snapshots bringing you whimsy on a Wednesday
On the wagon of despair
Look, its very difficult to be whimsical when you’re trying to be “normal” and adopt an everyday lifestyle like no alcohol, green food and practical accomplishments. I’ve got to tell you it’s put me in a bit of a tailspin and I’m not all together at one with life. I really don’t think it’s for me and I’m far more fun when I’m being self absorbed, drinking Margarita’s and being inappropriate.
Narcolepsy is no joke
Being normal also brings about severe drowsiness. I don’t know if it’s because of the detoxification process or the fact it’s so utterly boring. I find that by nine ‘o’ clock at night I am falling asleep to the crocheted scarf in my lap as I watch something on the telly. I used to be able to stay awake until 4am. This is ridiculous and a total waste of my time and brilliant personality which is being soaked up by A-Zinc vitamins and early nights. I had a complete meltdown the other night about this and went out for a Chinese and three Margaritas. Never felt so good in all my life until I got home and noticed my skin was burning. My inner forearm and outer thigh felt like they’d been scalded by hot water and yet this was not the case. I checked the areas and they looked absolutely normal: no rash, no cuts, no hives, no evidence of foul play and yet I burned like a whore in church. I looked to my friend Google for answers.
WHY IS MY SKIN BURNING FOR ABSOLUTELY NO REASON WHATSOEVER?
Foot and Mouth
A list of other made up diseases.
Or, the work of dark magic.
I decided to opt for the latter as I have no tolerance for intolerances. Isn’t that about right? You try and be good and then you have one little tiny bit of a cheat and get afflicted with a vile, scorching punishment. Thanks.
Attitude is everything
And having a bad one never did me any harm in the past. However, I thought I should give my brain a bit of a detox too. It makes sense to deal with the mental part first, right? Allegedly, meditation is extremely good for…well, apparently everything. Especially brains. I decided to start slowly and do one at night in bed that aids deep and relaxing sleep. The woman taking me on this hippy trip took so long to get to the point that I fell asleep before the good stuff started. I woke in the middle of the night being strangled by my headphones. Pointless. Normally, I would have put it down to useless psychobabble and never attempted such rubbish again but I’d read somewhere that people who can meditate develop really cool mind control skills that I’d rather like to have so I gave it another go the following night. I found some bloke on Spotify, lay down and listened.
The journey of self examination
‘Relax your whole body and do not open your eyes..’
‘Feel how tight the muscles are at the top of your scalp…’
‘Ow. OW! How have I not noticed this before?’
‘Concentrate only on your breathing…’
‘In, out. In, out. Shake it all about. ha! NO! I must concentrate. OK, breathe and breathe and Oh God I’m hyperventilating.’
‘And release your shoulders…’
‘Shit! I forgot to take my coat out of the washing machine! Damn I need that tomorrow. Shall I get up? But he said I can’t open my eyes. I’ll just open one and see what happens….’
‘Check that all the tension has left your body…’
‘What?’ I opened my eyes, lifted the covers and had a look. Couldn’t see any.
‘Feel yourself sinking into the mattress…’
‘Why has this bloke got a dodgy Essex accent? He’s probably some lightweight who’s taken a weekend course on hypnosis and now thinks he can make a few quid sending gullible chicks to sleep….’
‘Picture yourself walking down a beautiful path to a special place…’
‘Oh, right. Damn it. I’m behind now. Quickly walking down very bright path. Looks a bit like Disneyland or Oz. What does that mean? Maybe I’m out of touch with reality…hmmmm. Got to special place. White beach, blue sea, waiters with cocktail lists. Nice.’
‘What does the path look like?”
‘What? I’ve already been down the sodding path! I’m already at my special place. I mean why don’t they tell you to stay on the path at the frikkin’ beginning? Bloody hell. Now I have to walk all the way back and I was just about to order a Pina Colada.’
‘Picture the flowers and shrubbery around you..’
‘I wonder if Spotify check out the credentials of these people? How do I know I’m not being groomed? Hypnotised into doing something I don’t want to do? Why has nobody thought of this?’
‘Now picture an elegant staircase..’
‘Hold on, I’m supposed to be on a bloody path with flowers. Mine had cacti, just sayin’. Now I’m supposed to be on an elegant staircase? Fine. OK, Elegant double, sweeping staircase. Quickly changed from swimwear into swishing frock and long gloves; martini in hand.’
‘Begin to walk down the steps..’
‘Oh yeah. Look at me on my staircase being all lah-de-dah…Total class. Look and weep, peeps!’
‘And now you’re at the bottom of the few steps..’
‘ERRRR, NO. No I’m not. What kind of elegant staircase are you thinking of, pal?’ A few steps? Mine has at least a hundred! Oh yeah, charlatan from Essex, only used to a two up, two down. Pillock.’
I flew downstairs, dropped my martini and tore my pretty frock. The tension flooded back like a tsunami. And all this was just in my imagination. I ripped my earphones out mid trance temper and went downstairs for a cuppa until 3 am. Problem is, I feel very spaced out and out of sync. Do you think I’m still under hypnosis?