Today I put a light colored shirt. A very Suavito gray with black and yellow polka dots. With plenty of cleavage, of course, but was more than I thought and I have not put the required badges of The Kooks or Rufus Wainwright, so I've been teaching all day Pecham, which has paid me to take a piropazo Nuria telling me he did not have a groove, so that the heads praise my bra from H & M and to continue calling Mariano "breasts." But this gray
clarito has caused a furor, not so much cleavage, but by the difference in tone compared to my normal clothing. When you're fat, and I'm fat, you start to create your own dress code, you just knowing you more tricks than the designer of "Vogue." Any clothing, any style does not move around your tastes and preferences, always moves around your physique. No matter if I died with envy (not so much taste, but by the attitude) while walking by Triana in Las Palmas street and saw these big boys like sausages stuffed into a top and trousers caderero, I've always been clear. Things never too crowded (although it is impossible because almost always get things tight), never of prints, never show too much (the neck is another thing), and throw in black, because black always makes you thinner.
So my wardrobe consists almost entirely of black clothing, except some jeans, shoes, and a few dress shirts that I wear because my mother said to me very fat, and if others have told me helps me "trust me, it's because you lie." immutable truth, I like it or no.
But now is not my mother to give me cold water, so today I've been told that shirt me and I felt good I thought. I've been told I'm beautiful, and I've believed. I've been told I can taste, and surely enjoy, but do not want to realize, and I've believed. And I've noticed that, at bottom, in the church were right. It is good to believe. In the compliments from friends, in the voices that whisper to you phone, and in oneself. Although everything is a lie. There will be time for disbelief, and to be a fallen angel who returns to hell and back and see all black, clothing and life.
Today I since a coup in my wardrobe. I have gone to H & M and I bought a green shirt, a bustier top and a bathing suit pattern trikini shooting with tear in the front so that I can see her navel. Give him the ass to black!
Tonight, my city is celebrating. Not everyone, of course, this football is just a way to separate people: rich and poor, red-brick facades of the Atletico Madrid today ... But someone has gone to bed happy. Some even you have probably taken a powder. Lucky for some!
On Friday night and everything was ready for the celebration. A viewpoint to place cameras TV in strategic locations, lighting to illuminate the Post Office building, host of the Eternal City of Gallardón ominously, a juicy front page of Marca (I've always wanted to do the covers of Mark and La Razón. How will these things happen!) and the Cibeles almost shielded, not bags, to avoid the danger of civil war bombing, but hurdles to avoid the danger of the Vandals, who are those people of Europe North who came to Spain in the 409 (according to wikipedia), but a very large bunch of people who have no respect for the monuments and, who knows why can not conclude anything if you do not break something. In itself that no cracks. Some are rich and poor, red-brick facades, the Madrid and Atletico.
I'm not too fond of massive celebrations. And yet, while the sound of firecrackers broke the traditionally quiet nights in my neighborhood of old men, like rain broken clouds all day, I drew a smile on his face.
I'm tired, like Beckham, Van Nistelrooy and Casillas, but happy as kings. My triumph is not a trophy, and no one is going to celebrate in the Cibeles, although I would if I did not see me heat and no.
I have managed to retain for nearly 24 hours to three tireless beasts ten, five and three years, running down the flanks by the center and where they throw. That are thrown to the shins or ankles and, as women, do not know what being out of game because for them everything is game. Each has learned one thing from another, I am, that children do not always go to his family. With the problems we have my sister and I with the gas and farts who have been pulling in just one day. They (the two children), to be cleaned the "tail" after peeing.
Fortunately, everything went well. My house is in good condition without sandbags or fences, and both my physical as theirs has been ensured at all times. Not so much mental integrity of my cat, who has suffered a terrible attack, a mixture of panic and jealousy, and puffing with snorts them had never heard and which seems to have built for the occasion. My head hurts, and I have a few stitches in the stomach as when I put a claim in the warehouses of the green triangle, which means I've been very nervous. But I feel the same I felt when I saw the deeds of my house: he had achieved something that I did not think could ever do alone. The truth, I have no plan to repeat in the case of the house. In the other, is likely to do, now that I emerged victorious. Oe, oe, oe oeeeeeeeee.
As Dolly Parton. Well, not exactly true, although chest circumference and share the feeling that the work is a byproduct, but almost. My first week on the new job has been like returning to a life that you knew existed, but that seemed to exist only for others. Sure there are bad things, of course, how to lose those hours of silence are from midnight until early morning, or the privilege to sit on the subway.
The subway is another story, but let the days go by to see if I'm getting at that hour and a half it takes me to leave my home to work. Or to see if I start to take a little less, because it is amazing how slow can go a subway train. Somehow, I do not know how, I have to convince myself that it is not so bad give me these early mornings, I'm going to read more and more hours to sleep well. For now, the early mornings I more or less well, read the same as before because I can not read up and also today I've been sleeping so soundly supported by the extinguishing of the car, until I think I had time to dream. Of course, now rogue again free newspapers (only privilege for early risers) and gives me a lot of time listening to music.
Thanks to that I could get me disk full of Rufus Wainwright, which I know by heart, and this weekend I enjoy the De luxe edition that came to my house courtesy of Play.com, about 23 euros admissible not comparable to the 41 I threatened to FNAC. Clearly, when the FNAC me know to tell me that love has come to give me the answer: "Well, you see, is that since the May 16 it ordered, it appears that I have received an almost half the price you gave me. "Click. The click is when they hang up, and obviously I put it here as a dramatic device (like the poor of the news editor of Antena 3, which call handling anything, please!), Because I'm educated lady that hangs people. I also crushed the "Time Being" by Ron Sexsmith, a guy who recommended me Javi, a brief ex-coworker who was very nice and good musical taste, because it is the second CD of Sexsmith haunts me. The album has great songs, but only has video of All in good time. It is not my favorite (Snow angel, I think we're lost or Ship of Fools have the privilege), but not bad. It is this:
What else is left? Oh yeah, I sleep. No, I'm sleeping more, but for some reason I wake in a better mood and I'm finally getting take less than an hour out from home since the alarm clock. The same is because it is almost summer, just because it costs up early but am very happy to leave soon. It's one thing I always hated to work on television, those times absurd that make you go at 10 or 11 in the morning and all they do is to lose all day at work and switch on with the feeling that your life is not yours. Do you sometimes have a purpose? Yes, but not always, and least in certain positions. I thanked
return of the tension of the daily live. For someone like me who is easily distracted and is aimed think about everything too much pressure to deliver time ago that all doubts be dispelled, because there is no time to hesitate. Nor is there time to think about doing more elaborate things, but of course, not everything can be had. Well yes, but in this country things are not working well. So here I am, spending mornings with her ass stuck in the chair and typing non-stop. And I like it because I feel more alive, and because I see how pages are falling and there is no waiting. Because I'm well, and I need the obligation to get going, and I feel that way I get paid to wait, and do not feel guilty about not doing things I could have done but I do not know how to do and disappoint who do not want to disappoint me.
mornings fly by when you can barely move to take a leak because it contains and when you wake up you have to support you because you get dizzy head on the keyboard to the screen and display the files of the authors. When the eyes see only your fingers hitting keys and my ears are going to isolate songs from the fuss of writing, because I do not know if I told you, but I get distracted with anything. And in the evening, and supplies the script and the program starts and machinery has been set up for another day. Then
are only six in the evening and you go, and the sun shines, and there airecito, and you know you have the evening ahead. I did not realize until Friday, because the first few days of observation, but when it happened I felt the need to tell everyone how happy I was to return to "normal" and end early on Friday. I called a fellow, I called my sister (who was even better plan than me, had his feet in the Mediterranean Sea), I called friends, and called the Walker, who as a man attached to topics Catalan, it is rat and does not buy a new phone, although that is not functioning properly. I told them I was going to the subway, walk from the center to go to a concert or a movie. At the end overcame the idea of \u200b\u200bcinema because too little lately because I occasionally remember me immense happiness that I have provided these movie nights alone. Zodiac was chosen. What a great choice! Some time ago I stopped trying to write something like movie reviews, because I'm good, but if I say that I slept in more than two hours and a half of the movie, know me know that this is very good for a movie. The weekend was helpful. I ate with my parents, I visited the book fair, attended a flash mob (use google, it's too late) making soap bubbles,
saw a photo exhibition and was of straws with John and other friends who treat me well and let me take their daughters. I also saw "Lost," played with Salsa, I wandered and went on some blogs, friends and politicians. I stayed home to avoid unnecessary purchases of first Sunday of the month, and I thought again that I have to lose weight, sometimes being alone scares me, and I have to do a lot of things I always forget to do.
I was catching up on blogging friends when I see that Dani has finally updated. In his latest entry talks about the first gigs we would already some as eleventh curro, me in my life I've had an intensive day, and incidentally a few links to blogs of their peers. Thanks to one of them I made tontuna day, which is this:
As you see, the styling is not has nothing to do with me, but for once I can be thin, it comes, living the mess! The choreography, many would guess, is the video of Ok Go!, And the song is Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!, Which are a group estupendísimo. And that's it. Yes, I have wanted to talk about many things, but I'm a little listless, truth. Another day.
Today I 
