pursed lips

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i have ennui.

ennui: noun. Listlessness and dissatisfaction resulting from lack of interest; boredom: “The servants relieved their ennui with gambling and gossip about their masters” (John Barth).

yup that's what i've got. i've got me some ennui. i'm wandering around my life feeling listless and bored even when i'm in the middle of doing something that i love. when i'm out with people or at their places i catch myself staring at the clock so i can leave at the first possible second.

this happens at band practise!!! yeah exactly.

this is not just your run of the mill ennui, this is a full on dose. this is ennui that is almost worthy of a capital e except that i can't be bothered hitting the shift key. this ennui would be legendary if i bothered to write odes to it.

there could be urns.

grecian urns no less!

i don't really know what's causing it exactly. i love my activities and my friends and the things i do to pass the time. i enjoy my television shows but (get this) i'm actually caught up. yeah in december i was eight weeks behind and right now? all caught up. what the heck is up with that?

i only watch television when i don't feel like dealing with humans and suddenly i'm watching a lot of tv. i suppose i could be getting in the hibernating i sort of forgot to do in the winter. what winter? right that explains the not hibernating.

it could be a simple case of spring forward syndrome. you know where everything feels too late and too early and all discombobulated for like two weeks because of the stupid time change? where eating dinner at ten pm seems reasonable?

where you're tired in the afternoon and wide awake at night.

yup, that time change.

it could be my growing sexual frustration. i didn't actually think it was possible for that to grow but who knew. it turns out that every spring i get another layer of bricks and mortar to weigh me down a little more. to make me feel a little shittier for my total lack of sex.

yay. love me some spring.

it could be that along with spring life returns to the village. this means that there are people everywhere and lineups at the bars and that my living room window area is rediscovered as an excellent place to smoke crack or weed.

since my apartment is excessively large this also means that they keep me up half the night with their giggling and shouting and talking. sometimes they fuck outside my window too... and it's never the attractive ones either. those ones seem to be able to find somewhere indoors to boink.

i mean really, who thinks that against the wall of an apartment building is a good place? people live there. we're SLEEPING. i know, so weird. why would you want to consider others in your behaviour?

along with that comes the return of the sunday driver. you know the one i mean, scared of his car, afraid to change lanes, her head stuck to the steering wheel, death grip on said wheel and they seem to think that twenty seven is an excellent speed in the fast lane of the freeway.

what they're looking at scenery, shut up already.

ahhh spring.

oh and i almost forgot, i'm feeling fat as hell lately. i feel fatter today than i did when i was wearing jeans that were four sizes bigger. or even when i was wearing extra large shirts instead of mediums.

i feel fatter than i did when my back fat still made folds between my bra and my waist.

i feel fucking fat. and ugly and boring and lame. and it's pissing me off. i mean really there's no reason for it. i can tell when i look in the mirror that i'm thinner. heck someone called me slender the other day.

and besides? who GIVES A SHIT? like it matters if i'm a little overweight or a lot overweight or fat or not? i mean i was fat and i'm not now and neither one got me anywhere so seriously why do i care?

moreover feeling ugly? i mean seriously that's just plain stupid. hardly anyone likes their own looks but everyone knows lots of attractive people who don't find themselves attractive. hell sometimes i'm amazed at the combination of hair/eyebrow/skin that i have and how striking it is in a mirror.

yeah mirrors.

i have this mirror rule, i'm allowed to look long enough to fix what i'm wearing and not a second longer. otherwise i start to pick and to notice my saddlebags. except i work in pilates studios.

if you haven't had the pleasure of seeing a fitness studio then imagine a wood floor, some pretty coloured walls and a wall full of mirrors. or at least mirrors all over the place. take that and add one insecure pilates instructor with mirror issues and toss it all in a shaker.

decant into martini glass to provide one pilates instructor with growing self esteem issues.

it's weird because when i look at myself with my rational mind i see this mass of happy wavy hair with fantastic skin and cheekbones that used to cut glass and still bruise it. i mean what's not to like? i see a long and lean body with muscles galore and ribs that show through my clothing.

sometimes i'll catch my eye in the mirror and be stunned at that aforementioned eyebrow/hair/skin combination. it's just so many other times i'll notice that my shirt is too short or that my pants aren't quite right for my frame or that my pants emphasize my saddlebags or whatever.

and all of this is true because my clothing is primarily either handed down or was cut for a much shorter woman than i am. because i'm a medium on top i end up with shirts that are too short. or that are long enough but way too big.

no winning for me. don't even get me started on the sleeves.

it's better in yoga clothing because that tends to actually be the right length for me (dancers are allowed to be both long and not fat at the same time... regular women aren't... fat and tall or short and thin... those are your options) but that's just as bad because it's all skintight... and when you're having a fat day the figure hugging stuff does not cut it.

i mean one fat day you can fight with your sexiest outfit. two fat days you can fight with a little shopping for cds or something. a week of fat days and you can go buy stuff from mac but then what?

you can't just keep buying stuff because the old credit card starts to barf. and besides if you use client cash you can very easily spend yourself homeless without even trying. it's so hard to put cash in the bank!

so now it's a string of fat days... and no end in sight.

and for the record i'm not asking for reassurance about my looks. i am rationally aware of the fact that i'm pretty enough... and that some people even think i'm hot. let's see... married people. gay people. women, coupled people, people at the other end of the country/world, people who are otherwise unavailable and twenty year old men. that whole list thinks i'm hot.

tragically none of them are dateable.

and i get it that i'm smart and funny and all that other awesome crap. that in no way takes away from the ennui.

the sheer unadulterated boredom of it all.

there is nothing that i do that doesn't bore me. this is clearly not about what i'm doing and all about how i'm feeling. where the hell is my self esteem?

oh fuck, i bet it went back to jamaica with my sex drive!