I went and got a pedicure today for the first time in at least two years. I was afraid to go to the place I used to go, because I thought the ladies there would talk about how fat I had gotten. Maybe that's silly, but you know, I always wonder what they are saying when they talk in Vietnamese and then giggle. I was also afraid I'd be the fattest woman there. I was sure a bunch of skinny, young girls would be there getting their toes done for the weekend.
I was wrong. I wasn't the fattest lady there, and I wasn't the oldest, and none of the ladies that worked there two years ago were even there. Besides, what if I had been right? So, what? It's funny (not funny, ha ha, but funny, odd) how I create scenarios in my head that keep me from doing the things I'd like to do, scenarios that paint myself as some distorted, ugly version of the truth. Maybe I'm trying to hurt myself before anyone else can do it to me, but the thing is, rarely does anyone ever hurt me in the way I fear they will.
Anyway, I have pretty toes today.