well the title says it all I guess.
We left Italy on a Friday morning, and as typical, I got my period (since the period know when you have a 11+ hours flight), and it was a bad one, with an horrible backache and all joints (and the damn knee) aching for days.
Miami beach was full of springbreakers, something I would have loved 20 years ago, but I would much rather have enjoyed quiet. Actually the crowds were so bad and unruly the police enforced a curfew, resulting in police sirens and megaphones all night long.
The beach and the parks were really beautiful and the weather amazing. It would have been perfect, had I not been in almost too much pain to walk. Meanwhile, phone conversations with the family were full of cute comments such as "Are you really going to the beach? you are too fat to wear a bikini" and other lovely comments of the kind.
Orlando was nice, although, predictably, I got sick - I take it as a miracle that I did not get covid (2k people in closed spaces with no masks - insane), but the constant swing between hot wet weather outside and AC indoors is a killer for me. The even was beautiful, we had a private night opening of Universal Studios and a lovely evening at a golf place, with a DJ set, fireworks, amazing food and booze etc.
Meanwhile every single pic sent to the family whatsapp chat (such as the one above, in the new dress) resulted in more sneaky comments.
We got back. got tested (negative), and the first thing my father told me on the phone was I need to go on a diet. Cool huh?
On Monday I went to Tuscany for a Partners meeting. The place was lovely (see pics). I did make a mistake in sending a text to the family chat along the lines of "having a vertical tasting of Brunello di Montalcino right now, so not coming home LOL". The reply frtom my father was "You're not coming home because you won't fit through the door".
Frankly, I'm done. I've had enough. For the first 20 years of my life everyone had to stress out that I was not eating enough and that I was such a nuisance for not eating. Then 20 years of telling me I'm too fat.
I'm fed up - hello, I do see mirrors, and I do own a scale. Just fuck off. No more phone calls from me.
