I went to the faire last weekend and I knew it would do me in. I just wanted to have fun! And I did. Even my hour-long debacle involving dehydration and unlacing my overdress wasn't all bad. I learned a lesson- that is more to the point, I reminded myself of how it feels and I shan't forget again. (the last time I was that dehydrated, I was pregnant with my second child. It involved a trip to the ER and two bags of saline for me to feel better).
Monday, I went shoeless because I had blisters on the arches of my feet. Tuesday was okay, Wednesday I went shoeless again because I wasn't going anywhere. (It happens to be Thursday as I type this). Wednesday, my muscles still ached in that tired-like-I-chopped-wood-and-plowed-the-field kind of what. Except I didn't do all that. I went outside, walked around, sat as upright as I could in a tight, laced-up dress in the almost-90° heat and watched handsome men on horseback try and knock each other off those horses. (also, I'm still a little hoarse from cheering).
I'm trying not to complain about it too much. I don't want to whine and seek sympathy because I did it to myself. I didn't have to go to faire. Well, technically, I did have to go, because I have a season pass and it would be a total waste not to use it. Even though I did this to myself, it still hurts. I still hurt. It feels like I'm being punished for trying to have fun. How dare you have fun! You have an invisible, yet debilitating illness! You are supposed to just sit around and lament on missing all the fun! People like you are not allowed to have fun or do anything for yourself!
Now, you go sit in a dimly-lit room and stare at that blank wall till you realize what you did was your own fault! And I don't want to hear a peep out of you till you're ready to say: "I will never, ever, ever do that again! I swear!"
I gotta get going... I need to iron my ren faire overskirt and make sure my asthma inhaler is in my belt pouch. I have a season pass!
And you don't want me to miss this do you?