Serenity abounds in the health cafe

I thought I was feeling less stressed than, say early October, when I was a tightly wound ball of neuroses.

Turns out my ball is still quite tight.

I popped into the vegan cafe at the end of the road to buy cupcakes. It’s a cafe that’s popular with a slew of celebrities, Melrose hipsters and yummy mummys (although today the demographic seemed more ‘depressed teacher’ than anything else).

The food on offer looked, as ever, delicious, the prices, as ever, extortionate and the staff were, well, zen squared. I don’t know why I noticed it today over any other day.

The woman who served me was in her late thirties, with fair but lightly lined skin, a sweeping blonde up-do, and a soft pinky lipstick that was probably called ‘Peachgasm’.

Her smile was warm, her demeanour calm, and her blue eyes twinkled. She greeted me with a cheery hello but try as I might, I could not engage on the same level. Too stressed? Distracted? Tired?

I barked my order and as I did, I realised that I hadn’t had any real eye contact with her, and must have seemed incredibly rude. That’s not really me.

In a flash, I told myself to look up and smile. Which I did.

I told her how delicious everything looked (trying to make up for being such a grouch), and she talked me through one of the specials. She sort of floated over to the cash register. I paid and she handed me my gluten-free goodies in a paper bag.

Then she said goodbye with a light and fluffy tone, and I left hurridly, envious of her sunny disposition.

Now, while I’m prepared to accept that she might be on Prozac or something, I also realise as we creep towards the end of the year, that I MUST fight my way out of this neurotic state.

It’s killing me.

When you sit in a state of stress, it becomes the norm. But it isn’t. Snatching teeny tiny pockets of slightly less stressful time is not enough for a productive and healthy existance.

I wonder if the life I’m living is totally wrong for me? Or am I just being a whiny-middle class baby? (One who dreams of living in the countryside and making artisan cheeses, because that’s not stressful, right?)

Or am I asking too many questions?

No idea. A side effect of stress is that you forget how to make decisions. (Or how to ask the right questions?)

Whatever, zen vegan lady had a big effect on my psyche.

And the cupcakes, on my thighs.

Spinny out.


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