Because we Greeks are weird people, we consider Tuesday the 13th the "bad luck" day. Because I am even more weird, I consider Tuesday the 13th my lucky day. Because the 13th letter of our alphabet is N and because Nai in Greek means yes, I consider every 13th of the month a "Yes" day.
The concept of a yes day started when I was little, and it was a reward for me. If I would clean my room and be nice to my brother (cos I was a heartless cruel bitch to him till I was about 7) I would have a "yes" day.
A "yes day" would simply be a day where I would have a yes to as many questions or favours asked as my years were. Because I think the previous sentense is very bad english, what I mean is that when this started and I was 4, I had 4 questions/favours to ask. When I was 5, the favours were 5. Now I am 36, we don't play this game anymore ;o(
Usually it would be like: "mom, can you make me a tomato - feta sandwich?" Mom would say yes, and as soon as she would give me the sandwich, I would say, "Mom, can I not eat it now?" and she would smile and say "yes". I was such a bastardious brat!
Although I adored my "yes days", I really did not have many of them. It was just too difficult for me to clean my room or not harass my little brother. The funny thing is that I loved my room when it was all tidy and clean. I felt like a little princess in her glossy pink kingdom, where everything looked prettier and harmonious, in order and in place. And the truth is that I didn't really enjoy being mean to my brother. Cos I loved him as much as I do now; more than I can really express.
I started writting this down to give you a funny story, because I did not like that yesterday's post made you sad. I did not mean it. For the record, I was not sad myself. I was just cleaaring up my head.
But as I wrote the "yes day" story, I really felt like I was 4 years old again. My "yes days" passed through my head like a movie, and I could see the pattern. I would ask for things or would do things that I did not really want or enjoy, just for the naughtiness of asking them or doing them.
Or I would do things that would give me a momentarily pleasure, like pinching hard my brothers buttock when he least expected it, and then make me feel horrible, like seeing the "why did you do this to little me" look in his face after the pinch.
It is the very same thing with eating something I am not supposed to eat. It has nothing to do with who I want to really be. The slim and fit woman. It does not give me but momentarily pleasure, because the moment the last bite is swallen I begin to feel the teeth of guilt biting my heart.
Like when I was little, I really wanted to be a tidy girl and caring sister. I loved me and my surroundings so much more when I was like that. But there there was this little angry child inside me that lived for mischief and naughtiness and wanted to do the forbitten, the bad thing. Oh rebellious years...lol
So now I am thinking that perhaps there is the middle ground after all.
What if when I was five I would tidy my room but put everything in the order or space I felt like, and not in the way my mom had decorated and arranged my room?
What if instead of pinching my brothers buttock and instead of surprising him and hurt him too, just lick his nose, surprise him, and then have both of us laughing?
What if instead of eating a pitta gyros from the shop, with all the grease in the pitta and all the fat in the gyros and the 198% fat tzatziki, I make my own at home, by grilling my pitta, make my own gyros by slicing lean beef in stripes and adding all the right spices and then make my own tzatziki with 0% fat yoghurt?
Ah, the five year old inside me is smilling right now you know. She is content and happy. She can have her "yes days" back, and trust me, she will learn to enjoy them much much more now!
Now, can I have this tomato-feta sandwich? ummm...well...on wholewheat bread of course ;o)