Why get married all in the summer? What remains of the delicate romance flowered silk, if in African heat almost struggling to get in too much too tight corset air? The sweat that drips from every pore destroyed, as well as skilful hairstyles pretty face painting and provides the worst case, ensure that you can not smell each other. It is there, in the olfactory all would start to my problem.
I hyperventilate and tug on the closure of the dress. My wedding dress, which I in the winter at the height of my successful Low carb bought and I have fit well at that time with great difficulty. That was before the preparation went off stress that prevented a normal diet. That was also before the numerous ceremonies, because for some inexplicable reason, almost everyone in my family from April to June birthday. The bakery gives us our confidence for years a pie bulk purchase discount, and the company owes us Rennie, the famous Viennese early summer high. The death blow was my wedding outfit, finally, when my friends organized a cocktail competition on the eve mix that could only survive if you look at it several kilograms of salt recapitalized and fat in the form of potato chips.
It does not help. It is the evening of the eighteenth of July, not twenty hour I still separate from my marriage and my last attempt to put the wedding dress trial is officially failed. The air in my new apartment is. It has identified thirty degrees, it also changes the tireless hard work on my USB fan, nothing. This decorative but useless part has given me my best friend and maid of honor for the transport of Minna. "I heated Leni. For a cool head in the jungle leaves, "was leaning in their writing on the card. At that time I thought it was funny. Finally, I work as an editor for the second most popular Austrian daily newspaper virtually around the clock on the computer. Tim laughs every time you enter the rotor blades of the miniature fan to great pains to sweep the blush from my face.
fact I will always red. I blush when I am angry when I'm happy when I am ashamed of sex, in the crowded subway, on the cross trainer and even though I focus.
tomato Kopp, "says Tim will always know exactly how I hate it when he can hang out his North German origin.
"This is what we call tomato skull remember, you that, you monkey" care to answer I told him. Then he places his hand on my forehead, smiling as he would measure temperature, and then shakes her whining when he had burned himself.
Tim, I think, while I was with a jerk, pull the dress down, Tim, this annoying, ridiculous, unbearable child's head. Tim with the eternal Babyface and resistant hair Strubbelmähne. Tim, who meet every available glass upsets, especially if it contains a substance that makes the spots that never go out. Tim, by each visit to mom brings a bag full of Tupperware, filled with the worst fish dishes, so that poor boy in Ösiland not starved. Tim, the socks with three days when he is not with drawn knives doing so. Tim, the one about romantic love movies can not take the movies, from beginning to end because he laughs loudly and let go of stupid comments. Tim, who loves to eat greasy chicken wings with your fingers from the pan. Tim, I will get married tomorrow afternoon.
My reflection in white, dramatic satin underwear her fingernails digging into the thigh until they leave red crescents. No, this is not a nightmare. This is a fucking disaster! ...
("A Summer Night's Dream" in: "Stay cool", Diane Publishing, May 2011)
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