My mother used to say I had circulatory problems. That's why, when I was younger, you could see my veins under my arms and legs. Spidery lines of red and blue and grey scribbled underneath the flesh. The live in house maids of my friends used to grab me by the wrists and question such a travesty. What is wrong with you? Is this normal? Is your mother making you drink enough water?
It was also why I get pins and needles far more frequently than most others. Morning assemblies in school were torture, a school girl on the floor in the agonising pain of much more than just pins or needles. Upon standing my legs would go numb, and then ticklish, and more often than not I'd have to lean on a friend amidst the scrambling, eager-to-get-to-maths-class crowd as they pushed past me, through me, into me, and wait for it to pass with my eyes closed tight.
Perhaps it is also why my heart rate is far higher than it should be. During a physical education lesson last year the fairly-young-but-far-wiser-but-not-really English teacher had us calculate our heart rate while we sat in the empty canteen in the afternoon. Mine was far higher than the rest of the class and I was accused of not calculating it properly, but she took it back when she did it herself. My dad did the same last week. His response was stop worrying, whatever it is. Perhaps I'm a worrier. Perhaps I have circulatory problems. Perhaps I'm just not as healthy as I should be.
My mother used to say I had circulatory problems. These days my mother just tells me to stop making excuses.
I still don't drink enough water though.
The over-processed view from my bedroom window.