Just thinking aloud

Whoever said fights make people come closer must have said so under the influence of cheapjack alcohol and distasteful drugs for there is no buzz of excitement or anything, just a bad hangover to nurse, that’s all. I for one seem to have a doctorate in this department. Put me in an awkward situation, I smile and ignore as much as I possibly can at first, throw a harmless (yet sarcastic) fit, bid a supersonic clarification as a final counter and when all else fails, start a verbal war. You see, I have the shortest fuse known to mankind wedded to a vicious tongue. So, our wars are everything but honorable. It’s ugly & offensive; painful & quick. No one dies but the soul chokes up a few times and picks itself up in no time but somehow, the pieces don’t fit the way they used to- there is a word for it I think, I don’t know. Patience may not be one of strong suits but I always (always!) make an effort to see the other side of the argument despite seething blood gushing through my veins. Even when I don’t have an urge to justify, I feel I owe it to my sheer existence as a woman to stand up for what I believe in at all times. As though, a clever (or a loud) comeback somehow justifies the fact that a bazillion womanlikes from motherland are hushed without sound logic making way for a patriarchal society to thrive and grow.

Anyhow just wanted to get that off my chest. I hate fights! Moving on.

I’m 28 weeks today. A little wobbly, liking my food super-spicy, working out almost every day, painting furniture and shopping baby stuff to create a small nursery for our winter baby. This is probably one of the best years of my life and I’m reveling in the melodrama as much as I humanly can. Here is what month of July looked like! + a hundred other things of course.

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