Kinky Bitches

I am having a bad day. One of those days when you feel like everything is collapsing around your ears. It is spreading into every area of my life, my lucky beans are all gone and the Dark Age is fast approaching. Dramatic I know, but when I am feeling particularly hormonal, and a few crappy things start happening in my life, I just want to retreat to the comfort of the nook and hide away from everything for a while. But the nook is cold, and I cannot retreat there, so I feel like I am running around, lost, trying to find my other comfort zone. I am an independent woman! Comfort zone? What the hell is happening to me? So instead what do I do? I put up a wall, I close the door, shut the window, and flip around the “Out to Lunch” sign. I am done.

My bad day is not of course not just due to the shit going down in my work and personal life, nor is it to be totally blamed on my forthcoming ‘women’s issue’. But when you stay up late, drinking wine with the girls, and then writing your memoirs into the early hours, you have really no-one else to blame but yourself for being a grouchy old bitch the next day. Channah I blame you!

Last night was a really fun night. The girls all invaded my apartment, armed with bottles and ready to talk dirt and dirty. The wine was poured, consumed, and the volume in the apartment rose to such levels that the neighbours are now wondering if I am opening a brothel. I guess when they turn up with a wad of cash, then I will know if I am in business or not. As, we sat around discussing life, work, men and all that jazz, I looked at the friends I have; the ones with boyfriends, the single and dating ones, the single and playing the field, the ones dealing with the depraved world of Israeli men, and I really did not know where to place myself. I know that we (the guy and I) are label-less at the moment and in some ways I like that, but when everyone is talking about their relationships or lack of relationships, for the first time I was speechless… I sat back and tuned out, tuned out of the urge to drunk dial him, and tried to tune out of the nagging thought of “Why has he not called me today.”

The evening continues, and in the same way my guy friends would come back from their stag weekends chanting, “What happens in Amsterdam stays in Amsterdam”, I have to say what is discussed in the four walls of my apartment stays there. I guess the only thing to be said is that it is funny how you meet these people a number of weeks or months earlier, see them as sweet and lovely girls you want to hang out with, and then you get to know them better and realise that they are Kinky Bitches! It is always the quiet ones you have to watch out for! And the loud ones, and the ones feigning shock with a cross of her chest! Hence the orders soon to be coming in from my neighbours… I could do with the extra cash.

By the end of the evening I was left alone with my two favourite drunkards, otherwise known as my original drinking buddies, and notably the last two standing (or trying to stand) at the end of a long night of wine.

EG: You’re soooooooooooooo pretty, do you know how pretty you are?
SD: I’m not sure I want you to get any thinner… I mean you’re so cool, so pretty, if you were thin then you would be too perfect… I don’t think we could be friends anymore.
EG: Seriously don’t you think Channah is stunning… you are stunning you know that! I don’t think she knows that!

So by the time I dragged my sorry large ass to bed I was well aware of how pretty I am, and aware that there are plenty of guys who would come a flocking as soon as I get to the perfect size 10. But who really wants that? I want someone to like me for me (doesn’t everyone?). I like who I am. Ok, so yes I am doing some renovation on my life, but I am changing myself not because I am uncomfortable with myself… I think I hold myself in a way that shows how comfortable I am with my body and who I am as a person. So why have you changed yourself so much over the last couple of years? So why are you continuing to battle on though the war is getting so much harder?

You want to know? Well I am comfortable in my own skin, in the same way I am comfortable in my favourite jeans and T-shirt, but that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t like to slip into a little black Prada dress every now and then. My outer appearance is not me, it doesn’t define me; it is my costume. In my drunken state I wrote all this down, I wrote so honestly and openly about the topic I never really talk about on my blog, because I reserve it for my book, and then when I came in to work this morning to post it, I found that the disc I had saved it on had not been formatted and so it sits in my bag… so close and yet wasted! So instead I am sitting with my bowl of chicken soup, writing my thoughts, because I am purging myself, detoxing my life, getting on, dealing with my issues, facing the challenges ahead of me, and with everything else… I am done.