WAKE UP WOMAN!

There are some days when you just don’t care about anything. You wake up, put your tracksuit on, carelessly tie your hair with an elastic band, and with shades on your face instead of a make-up, you’re on your way to get some bread rolls. And it is when you, out of a sudden, meet your primary school friend not seen for a long time, that looks like a one-million dollar baby.

You’ve been walking these street for fifteen years and never ever bumped into her. You are an elegant women, you try to keep up with the newest trends with a different outcome, yet you do try. And never ever you leave home without a make-up! Just this once. After all it’s Saturday morning, people are still asleep… And just now, when you wanted to sneak unnoticed to greengrocer’s, this bitch had to appear. Well, 1:0 for her.

You go back home and swear by all that one holds sacred, that it was the last time you let yourself for such insubordination. It will never happen again. Starting from today on, you will take care of yourself in the greatest details, with no excuses and putting things away for later.

Two weeks later you realize with a delight that no one has backbitten you on Facebook or on any other social networking website. You got off scot-free this time. You forgot about this tragic humiliation. In the evening, while having a relaxing bath you realize, you legs need an immediate intervention of a shaver. Unfortunately, it’s placed on the shelf next to a mirror, so far, you would have to leave your lovely bath to get it. You don’t fancy that. ‘I’ll have them shaved in the morning’ you say to yourself and submerged in scented bubbles.

A stomach ache wakes you up at night. So strong that you can’t catch your breath. Painkillers, and herbal teas don’t help. You’re pregnant and frightened. You put on your good old tracksuit, huddled like an old lady you get to your car and drive to the nearest hospital. Waiting in admissions you recall hairy legs and pray that the night shift is carried out by a female doctor. And what? It’s so obvious. A young, blue-eyed, 1.9m high Apollo sees you and with disarming calm asks what troubles you. But you aren’t troubled anymore, and blushing crimson you forget about the pain, nervously working out how to escape from his surgery. Too late, 2:0 for the medic.

Again, you take an oath that you never keep. Just tomorrow, in the morning when you stand in front of your wardrobe and decide to wear granny panties (yes, yes, these biiig panties), since you aren’t going out. It will be just tomorrow when your husband cooks you a dinner surprise, just to, soon after, in the privacy of your bedroom win with you 3:0.