Fat and the Country

Exhausted with job hunting, my oversized expectations, morally challenging offer, diet and not being able to sleep more than 5 hours a night I needed an escape. So, last weekend I took a train out of London.

Instead of checking my email every second and avoiding carbs, I lied down on Harley Guy’s knees, watching Sons of Anarchy and eating pizza. And drying up bottles of rose. Doing nothing felt good, but doing stuff even better.

We went for a ride and fried breakfast to Ace Café. The last time I felt so out of place was my first dinner in OXO Tower. This time those were community tables and numbers of orders shouted out loud, which made me feel weird. I actually believe that I was the only person that the waitress actually put a plate in front of. I just ate my egg-sausage-dripping-fat sandwich and enjoyed it. Chill out girl.

To be honest there’s nothing more self-esteem boosting than a bunch of bikers staring at your ass. Yes, I was wearing leggings and heels on purpose.

What I’m actually supposed to write about are transitions between the fast and slow modes. It’s quite easy to wash off cum from your breasts, put your clothes on and get back to your life with just a nice memory of what you have been doing. Changing the pace of your life is much harder than getting out of bed.

From a total relax, no need to be anywhere or do anything to a fast London life, especially with the final assignment’s deadline coming up. Painful. And not exactly completed yet. I just can't find any strong motivation to do anything after that idyllic lazyness.

But I need to get my shit together soon. One can’t listen to Linkin Park and play solider for ever, right?