It was first wonderful and then disastrous. (Say that with a CAPITAL ‘D’.)
I’ve never really been distinctively shy of my dark circles, but come September end – when my insomnia was at its peak – I found it hard to dismiss the idea that I had started to – as my mother put it – ‘mildly resemble a raccoon’.
I had the face bone structure for it (not kidding), and the fact that a large part of my wardrobe is dominated by black, only happened to reinforce my mother’s above-mentioned hypothesis of my rapidly developing appearance.
There’s a vase of wilted flowers by my bedside that I refuse to throw away. Outside my window, there’s a tree the colour of the setting sun; its leaves are hanging so loose like they’re about to fall. After a minute or so, a light breeze sweeps one of those leaves right past me. It takes a mid air twirl before gently falling to the ground.
A butterfly is fluttering around the potted plants; there’s a jingle in its flight, but its wings are mellow.
“Real transformation requires real honesty. If you want to move forward – get real with yourself.” – Bryan McGill Sometimes I can’t help but notice that there is something about the transformation from a girl to a woman, that marks a transitional change from the way you used to perceive things then, to how you perceive them now.
Whether it is being honest with yourself, taking responsibility, making career choices, dressing yourself – or in this case, accidentally perceiving a denim dress as a denim overcoat.