I got mixed up...Eté 2006

I got mixed up with the hot and cold water and my bathwater turned out to be chilly. With a masochistic malice, I thought I'd take a cold bath. I thought of the people on the otherside, on the rough sides, where there's no such thing as hot water. I thought of Diane in the snow. And I took the plunge. I thought of doing this more often. I thought of doing this during the winter, also. It's more challenging. I thought of Tom Waits : “Well I woke up this morning with the cold water with cold water with the cold water.”
Hmm.
I got out of the bathtub and stared at my naked self in the mirror.
I didn't look like the fleshy porcelain doll. I didn't look like the sun-tanned girl either. I looked like a 20-year old girl with her big belly pointing out. Gross.
I looked at my wounds. There was a painful beauty in them. I thought that when they would turn into colourless scars and be barely visible, something would be missing.
But then, why do I do these things ?
It's ugly and childish.
Now the blood is seeping through the scab and staining my shirt.

“The other one made little slashes on the skin of her thighs using an old-fashioned straight-razor that belonged to her grandfather” p.365

“I might as well be dead” p. 372

Margaret Atwood, Cat's Eye