What happens when you take a blob of something different and you force it into the cookie cutter world of shiduchim?
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
The Last Supper
I savored my last bite of chicken, upset to be digesting The Last Supper. I mean it, what's a fish-hating, calorie-watching gal supposed to do during the nine days?
It's kinda funny watching ladies push their shopping carts frantically around the store, cramming boxes of cereal and packages of pizza bagels in. Sunday night's chicken is now a distant memory, as my stomach grumbles in empty protest at it's grand supper of veggie sticks. And it's gotta say something if I'm considering -sit down- tofu. Let's not even get started on cold showers. Or no laundry. And I won't be posting a top ten list; I don't feel like it's in spirit with the days we are in.
And yet, through all of the discomfort, the annoyances, and everything else, I just can't help feeling sad at my outlook. Here I am, mourning over the lack of chicken, when the real issues are so much deeper than anything I have ever lived through, anything I can even begin to imagine...