WEDDING SEASON
I’m edging between sober elitism and the self-loathing of being a former trash bag. I don’t want to be a boring loser but I can’t afford to relapse again. I have hay fever, vape woes, and there is an Oatly shortage in Byron Bay. Lord save me. My social battery is quaking in anticipation of the dual wedding long weekend that is approaching. I’ve got many thoughts about the tradition of marriage, a talking point that does not bode well against the Pinterest board fantasy I will soon be entering. A retiree bullied me yesterday for wearing a black athleisure fit on my walk. I anticipate similar callouts to happen this weekend. What’s wrong with mourning at a wedding?
