Self portrait of a Harpy…

This morning I waved the Goblin away and came upstairs to eat my breakfast (butter beans in plain yogurt sprinkled with cinnamon – it tastes better than it sounds). I would have skipped food and collapsed back into bed, but I had to take my pills. So I clicked on Listverse and enjoyed the latest list; greatest 60’s instrumental songs. I haven’t thought about Classical Gas in years (if you’ve never heard it, it’s brilliant!). With the curtains closed it was still dark, so as I listened to the music I sat here staring at my hands (as one does) and admired my fingernails lit by my computer monitor. Thanks to my vitamin regime, they’re hard as…nails…and sharp as…knives. Some cliches are really just an accurate description. If I’m not careful I could seriously hurt myself. I can hear it now, “We believe it was an accidental death. It appears the woman was scratching her neck…” You get the picture. So while admiring my fingernails I thought, “This might make an interesting picture.” Then I thought, “I have a camera!” So I started taking pictures of my hands. Then my sleep deprived brain thought it would be a good idea to photograph my face (my poor eczema covered, hagged out, fatigued, officially almost middle aged face). Some ideas should come with a mental health warning. Needless to say, I looked like a possessed harpy dragged out of her nest after just settling down from a long fruitless night. To cheer myself up I decided to buy a few songs on itunes. I don’t think Ozzy Osbourne’s ‘Flying High Again’ was a good choice for an exhausted harpy! As I tried to cheer myself up, the next thing I knew it was gone one in the afternoon and a bright sun was pouring in the cracks of my still closed curtain. I got another idea, I could open the curtain and take some pictures of my face in sunlight. There was a chance I might not look so…hideous! So the following photos (my favorites) illustrate my morning…

The sunlight photos cheered me up. I may look like a hagged out harpy, but it’s my face. Looking like a female copy of Jean Paul Sartre might not be everyone’s idea beauty, but I like it. It could be worse! All I need to do is lose some weight, get all my hair to grow back, and stop eating whatever is giving me eczema. That’s sure to be something I love…probably milk…or sugar…or chocolate… I think I need a cookie.