Don’t I Make It Look Easy, Baby?

The text immediately prompts my mental background music to start playing – loudly.

Although I feel like a broken record at times, continuously feeling like a loser, I must admit that Meghan Trainor sounds anything but broken on her latest record.

The tunes are pretty catchy and my brains are quick to pick up on them.

Don’t I make it look easy, baby? When I do what I do?

I heave a sigh (I really do) and put my phone away.

What happened that caused my loserness to spiral into a doo-wop-wop emotional state overtaking my entire being?

Somebody else’s happiness.

You see, my body recently attempted a coup to make my physical life as miserable as possible, by extending my long-time hamstring-knee-and-lower-leg pains alllll the way down to my right foot and toes.

And I’m not having any of it!

(Or at least: I’m not going down without a fight.)

But to beat this, I need some form of physical health-help. Which is where my ex-client comes in, because I remembered she used to know someone who knew someone who did magic with feet. And knees. And the rest of the human body.

So, a few months after I last saw her, I reached out to her and since I was brought up well (a little too well, some might say), I asked her how she was doing. Which was a mistake – or simply another failure.

Because she sent me an agonizing text telling me how happy she is with her new boyfriend, how great her new job is and how perfect her new house is. All before asking me how I’m doing (because she was brought up well, too).

Which is what set my inner Meghan off.

Don’t I make it look easy, baby?

I mean, I am not a bad person. I think. And she’s so lovely, I do wish the world for her. I do!

But… why not me?

How come it’s always someone else happiness seems to happen to? What’s wrong with me that I am seemingly incapable of receiving… well, in this case: progression?

Instead of moving forward in life, I feel I’ve been moving backwards. Before that I just felt stuck.

And now I’m wondering what is worse: not moving at all or taking steps back down the Ladder Of Life.

*sigh*

To make matters worse, she can’t remember the name of the person who does magic with feet. And knees. And the rest of the human body.

My toes tingle an evil tune: muhaha body domination is at hand! Surrender now and forever suffer!

At least they don’t do-wop-wop yet. That’s a small win, right?

Never a new love, a proper new job or a new house to decorate. Nothing ever seems to change for the better on my side. If anything, it changes for the worse.

You’d think it’d be harder to be a loser, but really…