Day 210: Fearing and Fasting

Week two of fasting didn't go as well as week one. But it is a learning process and what I learned was that fasting on a day off doesn't work. If I am trapped by the confines of work where accessing anything but what you have brought in involves either the easily avoidable vending machines or a fair-to-middling walk in a limited time allotment, and where my time is filled with having to work instead of choosing to, then forgetting about food is much simpler. On my attempt to do this on a day off I got to one a.m. and just. had. to. have. something. NOW! I ended up with pie. And real coffee. And then I didn't eat for another twenty four hours. So in a way I both did it and didn't do it. As of last monday (today, in blog land, but it is almost a week ago—don't ask me? Time is a strange and allusive concept) I had lost a kilo, but this week I don't feel that it is working. It would be better if I could actually eat 'normally' on the rest of the days. The normal days are the harder challenge for me as normality and shift work are not condusive. The best man in the universe has left me blogging while he does my grocery shopping. What would I do without him? My new jelly-bean shoes would still be at the post office holding warehouse, the local cafes would be one breakfast short of profit, and I would be living on double-yolk eggs (which frankly freak me out a little) and sponge finger biscuits. But with some groceries in the fridge, maybe I can attempt a semblence of regularity in the food department this week.

Irene               List_Addict
It was daylight but I was still in bed (broken record, but think night shift) and I hear 'knock, knock' somewhere behind the headboard of my bed. A little pause and then another knock. The Warrens—Ed and Lorraine—say, in The Conjuring, which we watched, me through the gaps between my fingers, at the cinema a couple of days ago, that demons like to knock three times as it is a mockery of the holy trinity. Um. No knocking in my house after that movie please. A person at work was nervous to see it. I said, all blasé and all, just remember it's not real. Someone else put in their two cents: 'It's based on a true story.' [Possible Spoiler Alerts] OMG! Can I possibly recommend not seeing this movie in Gold Class. While you do have the benefit of being able to lie in a foetal position to make it all feel a bit better, and there is even the option of getting a blankey which you can hold while you rock in fear, or just hide under, the sudden appearance of ever-so-quiet staff members with your mid-movie latte is enough to send you to an institution. I'm just glad V—— was on the side where they did their thing as I may have screamed and flayed my arms in a latte-disasterous way if they had suddenly apparated next to me. (And yes, that is a word in the Harry Potter dictionary.) And who, in their right mind, starts a movie with a demonic doll! It's all downhill from there as far as I am concerned. I can't do the Chucky franchise. The others I can do for the love of that feeling of 'alive' that hair standing up on the back of your neck gives. There are three stages of demonic possesion: infestation, oppression and possession. By the time I got through watching the first two I was so infused with fear that watching the third was easy. They have set it up for the sequel with that little music box, which is always a little annoying, but for a good scare and some great seventies clothing, I would have to recommend The Conjuring. Just don't stay in bed if you aren't asleep for about a week afterwards.

The (Petrified Because I'm on a Plinth Half Naked) Outfit Coat: Op-shopped, Vintage Tights: Gifted Necklace: CCJJSS Shoes: Irregular Choice

Photographer de Jour: V——

Who wore it better?

Making friends today with:

Suburbs Mama's What We Wore #7