I’m taking (as in, already started) a course in…pause, heart jump…
I know it sounds a bit facetious. I know. But it’s not. I love hair. I love make up. I love skin stuff. I love manicures.
Working as a corporate bitch for the last two years has meant that my personal maintenance has meant a huge salon bill every month. I know where all the best treatments are, I know what massages are used for what ailment, I know what is needed to look like a million dollars.
I want to know it from the other side. And when I do, after my UK certified course is completed, I’m gonna freelance my ass off, while working in some upscale swanky salon or as a personal beauty consultant or in some corporate setting (haha NOT) to deal with the beauty industry, or, or, or….
Yeah. I’m gonna work and save and I’m going to open my own spa. It’s gonna be great. I’m so excited I can hardly contain myself. I’ve found an excellent course with qualified instructors, and I’ve finished my first week. I’ve got theory, demonstrations and practicals to get through with a vengeance. I’m loving it.
OMG, I know what NEXT!
WOOOHOOOOO! 3 years ago
...like one never ending disaster area.
It’s never been simple, not from birth. Being a mixed baby of expat hippie parents, one of which wants to put you up for adoption, isn’t a very auspicious start to life. Doesn’t seem to count when one lone person wants you, and everyone else sees you as some living disease of societal culture degrade.
It set a tone of disdain and carelessness that I’ve fought against my whole life. I tried to fix it by a marriage that I hoped would be safe and turned out to be an abusive and controlling nightmare. Out of that, even, the flowers still bloomed emotionally in the form of my children, but they were also tethers that were used to hold me, long after I would have flown.
And even that, I managed to come out of it, with tears of blood that flowed for years until there was nothing left, nothing left to think or say or do; my mind a fog of drunken nights and hungover days dreaming of little faces I might never ever see again, little arms that I had placed on the altar of my own happiness, to see flourish and grow, only to lose them anyway.
The aftermath of a tycoon is a horrible thing. My life now is like that. The storm is over, the sun shines again, and illuminates the destruction of the last 3 years all the more starkly. Like Kali’s dance, my own dance left a void.
So now what next? How to build what I never knew? Where to start?
My keys are my children, for them I’ve been capable of anything. What’s next is them. 3 years ago