Sep. 2nd, 2017

spikethemuffin: (Default)
Those Vicky Justiz 5-minute, "tiny waist" workouts? Y'all know I have been eating healthy and exercising in other ways, but... in two weeks, my waist has shrunk by six inches. Although I obviously expect diminishing returns here, I may be a shapewear six by end of the month.

Weird side effect: my (twenty-six years old in five days!) post-pregnancy pooch pouch, the one that always may me look like I had a three-month baby bump, is not so much diminishing as it is slowly making its way up my body... Miz Justiz, please design some boob workouts!
spikethemuffin: (Default)
Orpheus, torn apart, still singing.

There are some days
That he cannot even remember her name.
These are the best days, and the worst.
(He cannot say that he minds being dead.)

But then---
A smell. A pair of lovers arguing. The pause of a slim-ankled faun,
And she comes crashing like a hurricane into his head.
The oak that grows where his heart used to be
Groans, its leaves inverting like rain is coming.

Eurydice! A noise like the clatter of
marionettes, their strings cut.
Like the shuddering four-part intake of breath between sobs.

He never says a thing,
But you will know these days:
They are the days when Persephone waits
until she hears the even breath of sleep, and
Turns the door handle so deliberately
It does not even click as it closes.


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