Sometimes I change my mind

We nixed the juice fast until next year. Wheatgrass is not a pleasant thing, y'all. And walking around Christmas parties looking parched and maniacal shows a lapse in etiquette and inspires others to go through your wallet because, hey, you're delirious and can't have cookies. Juice fasting isn't something you do when you'll be faced with food, food, food everywhere you turn.

I stand by the benefits. The time will come and it will be terrific.

I removed my skunk from the dark depths of the Internet and stuck it back in the sunshine. The internship I was about to win turned out to be a smack in the fanny. She was a nice lady and all, but during the interview she asked about my relationship with my parents and I lost all confidence in one major soul suck. She also wanted more days than she'd advertised. She also wanted to know my star sign. I can't say I was devastated when she said we weren't right for each other. I agreed.

Maybe I should've told her about my plans to juice fast. Or that I don't wear deodorant anymore. Or that I value silliness and finding self-reliance in your late twenties. I'm a bit disappointed in my reluctance to be myself. Once the family question hit the fan, I began to feel stupid about my accomplishments. I felt like she wanted me to say, "My parents have been married for 50 years. We're all best friends and every Christmas we gather 'round the ham and sing all four bars of Jingle Bells. We don't own painkillers. We sleep in the same bed."

Lesson learned. Back to the drawing board.