One of my childhood’s bestfriends is getting married! That’s the D day and she is counting on my presence more than ever. Everyone I remember from my childhood is counting on it. My parents’ friends and their sweet and sour offsprings, the old neighbors, the new neighbors… All the people that I would like to meet when I’m in the best shape and color ever. I want my bright and large smile to be able to properly answer the Question: what have you become?
But guess what? I look like crap (sorry for the bad word, but I can’t find a better one eloquent enough to describe it). No wonders! I’m just recovering from an exhausting intestinal flu that ripped away from me every piece of energy I didn’t actually have and left me with a big red fever blister to remind me that it could come after me any time. I have been beaten up to death but I actually fought this thing all by myself (mostly by sleeping all the time but it’s not like I could do anything else). Even my hair doesn’t obey to anything, be it physics or the flexibility and strength of my hairdresser’s hand, it looks messy and unhappy to be stuck to my head and so am I. In fact, if I were to do a complete checkout of everything that was going wrong in my body , I’m pretty sure that I might burn down the whole system due to engine overheating, in simpler words, I would lose my mind, or worst, trigger an endless migraine and regret to be alive (just get used to it, it always escalades that quickly).
My friend counts on me, though she knew me well enough to know that it wasn’t a bright idea, that would require a little bit more than just my presence, THAT I wasn’t even sure of! I thought about all the ways to avoid both of us mutual frustration and disappointment, cause I wouldn’t want me for a bride-maid or even for a guest. I feel unable to smile, laugh, talk, walk, dance, share or even clap my hands. There isn’t much I CAN do either am I of good company, so what am I supposed to do?
I spent days complaining around, moaning about it to everyone, which I’m sure, made me look more dramatic than ever, stressing out for not being able to be at my best for a wedding?!! no one should take it seriously. No one, but only someone who knows me well enough to understand that there is something wrong behind it, cause me not being enough in shape for a wedding doesn’t really sound like a usual source of stress and anxiety for me. Then the D day arrived and I had to get myself out of bed and go to the hairdresser (who I complained to the whole time i spent with her until she whispered at my ear « You don’t look good, maybe you should just stay home ». Well I can’t. Even though the beauty seance was more of a « torture » seance (imagine if princess Rapunzel had fibro) and that two hours later, I realized it was for nothing because I look more like a jackson five than beyonce due to over-sweating and a natural frizzy hair that is as sensitive to humidity as I am 🙂
I came up to the conclusion that unless something really bad happens, there is no way I am not going to this wedding and doing my best to look good enough. That is the most twisted part of this all. No one knows and No one can know (unless they really want to). I decided a couple months ago to stop seeking understanding about my possible condition and hide it as well as I can to avoid disappointment, misunderstanding, desillusion or sometimes just stupidity (I already discussed some of the motives behind this decision in STOP! In the name of love ). I am aware that it is not the best decision I ever made and that it won’t take too long before I cannot do it anymore, but for now, at these early stages, I can hardly understand it and cope with it myself and every attempt of sharing it with close ones, has been a disaster. I am not ready to deal with others even though I know, that in the long-term, I will eventually need their support and help, or at least, understanding, to finally get closer to a possible « normal » to me.
So I get dressed, put some jewelry and make up (no need to tell you that nothing that fits in my makeup case could cover it), nice high heels (keep this one in mind), took my man’s hand and headed to the party!