I took a deep breath & looked down at the sink that was still covered with his whiskers. Whiskers I had asked him to clean up at least 7 days ago. Yes, I was counting. I was waiting. I was watching.
Then the request turned into something else in my mouth. And it tasted like passive aggression. I shook my head, wanting to rise above these thoughts, but they wouldn't let me. They had ahold of me. I was caught in the mercy of them. I had become their BITCH.
And then one made me laugh...
What if I stood up on this goddamn sink & shaved my pussy hairs into it & left them there blaring like the sweet sweet revenge I had imagined right in his motherfucking face? How would HE LIKE THAT? It would be the best pubic hair massacre. EVER.
If I had done that, stood over the sink & shaved my pussy to the bone like one mad do-not-fuck-with-me empowered woman, I would have felt good, great, powerful. ALIVE! And then I would have lost the game. He would have won. And I ain't going out like that.
I laughed out loud at my reflection in the mirror. And that released the rage. Did I clean up his whiskers? Fuck no I didn't. That's a whole other part of giving in. Only until the lesson is learned. And for me, it is. I could easily walk back into the bathroom & clean it up. But I won't. Because the battle was won in my mind. And in the end, that's what I'm taking with me. Not the clean sink, but the consciousness.
So guess who's whistling to the beat of her own vibration? Guess who has a smile on her face? Guess who is not cleaning up the whiskers? And guess who no longer gives a fuck?
Alchemy, Magic & Intuition,
T A M A R A . R E N N I E
International Intuitive Healer