When I was in New York a few years ago, I saw a psychic.
She had long grey hair tied in a bun atop her head, with strategically placed chopsticks. The room smelt like incense and there was low-playing, creepy music.
In other words, she was completely legit.
When she looked into my future, she took a deep breath and scrunched up her mouth in an expression of overwhelming pity.
“When it comes to love, you’re cursed,” she explained.
“Oh. Oh goodness. That doesn’t sound promising” I thought.
Unfortunately for me, an ex-girlfriend of my dads had (allegedly) placed a cursed on his first born daughter (I’m the second daughter.. awks) damning me to an eternity of bad luck when it comes to dating.
Eugh. Dating is hard enough without an added f*cking curse.
I asked the wise psychic lady how I could lift the curse, please. She said I just needed to purchase 10 specially formulated candles and light them every night before getting into the bath.
They were $50 each. So that’s $500 altogether.
Needless to say, I never purchased those candles.
And on Monday night, I really, really, wished I had.
It all began when I woke up with my stupid period, accompanied by the worst cramps I’d had in years. I had a sore back, I was bloated and had shooting pains down my legs.