After writing the title 'holes' I've been contemplating the little word. Trying to make a little joke about being Whole except for the 'w.'
I've been toying with a very unconventional fashion post for a while, but it's just not my style (where as writing bad jokes about holes is clearly right up my alley).
The truth is I want you to meet someone (not lion cub. or a puppy, or a kitten, or baby. Seriously people. If there was a lion cub in my life I'd be Whole.)
No, I want you to meet my yoga mat.
And these? Well, these are my favourite yoga pants that I got in 2003. And that's my finger poking through the seams. I was cool with having some holes down my thigh, but now there is a giant hole in the crotch and well, I draw the line at wearing them now.
I have a pair of green striped men's boxers that I bought myself as jammies in 2003. I brought them to college with me, to Australia, back to college, to India, to Australia, to Colorado and back to Australia. They've been around the world and one day as I was getting changed the door bell rang and I had a package! I rushed to put on the nearest item of clothing which happened to be my boxers and as I put my foot through I heard a rip - knowing if I dilly dallied they'd leave with my package I went rushing out the door wearing boxers that had ripped completely down the front.
So, what's my point?
Why am I telling you this. Because I'm feeling a bit like swiss cheese myself. Full of holes. I'm trying to fill up with things that make me happy (skype dates with my best friend, knitting adventures, yoga, cooking), I'm applying to jobs and using my networks - I'm putting my best foot forward!, I'm taking care of my body by eating right to minimise my Endo and conquer Jorgita (bitch). I'm trying so hard. And I can see the holes.
As a separate note and a complete aside, I took these photos on my way home from yoga today. I love Australian trees, their seed pods are like little alien creatures to me.
I think that bird is a king parrot, but I'm not really sure.