mostly david ephgrave

Does anyone else ever feel like they’re walking around in someone else’s clothing or is it just me? (And do you like my mini-dress?) It may be a byproduct of my labyrinthitis, but sometimes everything I’m wearing just feels wrong. When my dizziness is at its worst, my eyes constantly flick from side to side literally all day and all night - and I don’t use my literallys like a hyperbolic teenager - which makes me feel like I’m in the wrong body; it’s like stumbling across a vat of half-set jelly: I'm the epitome of self-aware. It probably doesn’t help that I’ve put on weight lately, but that combined with my vertigo makes everything a little skew-whiff. I only left the house once today to pop to the shop and when I did, my gait resembled that alien in Men in Black who takes up home in that redneck’s body; young Bambi on ice had more grace than me. It must be nice to spend just a few minutes a day not feeling self-conscious; oh, ...

Last night, I started the third term of the meditation course I’ve been attending since, well, three terms ago. In many ways, I’m amazed I put myself through it. Not the meditation bit, which I find very useful, but the act of going to classes. I have an in-built dislike for that sort of thing. It brings back unhappy memories of the countless horrific dance lessons I had to do at drama school. I also find the social aspect difficult; outside of my friendship circle – and we do stand in a circle – I like to keep myself to myself. (…says the daily-blogging performer; work that one out.) These negative feelings have nothing to do with the meditation course itself, which is good*. I apply them across the board. My wife often suggests I should attend yoga or Pilates lessons to help my bad back. I know she’s right, but I don’t think I could do it. I find it too intimidating. This is solely the fault of all those dance classes in training; there’s...

This morning I refrained from using a public toilet, because a professional photographer stood outside taking pictures made me feel too self-conscious.   I’m aware that this isn’t a standard problem. Unless you’re me; this sort of thing tends to follow me about. I assumed he was professional because he had a tripod. He seemed too well-equipped to be a pervy opportunist. It also wasn’t very subtle; unless he was relying on the premise of being hidden in plain sight. The subject of his attention was a flat-capped man on a mobility scooter, who looked suitably nonplussed. He kept coming out of the disabled toilet while the faux-David-Bailey snapped away; it was like a modern day ‘Blow-Up’, recast for restricted access. I couldn’t work out why the man kept going in and out. Surely his movement wouldn’t show up in the picture; unless they planning to make some sort of GIF. Despite the urgent call of nature, I walked on by. Th...