Good luck with that one, sweetie.
I am currently in Colorado, doing the equivalent of what Tuberculosis patients did in the 1800s (“fresh air cure”, but hopefully mine will have less of a body count.)
My alt-health practitioner told me to stop myself from having negative thoughts about myself and others. I hugged her and sailed out of her office on a sunbeam. The mood lasted about fifteen minutes. It was brutally bludgeoned to death by this:
In case you can’t make it out, the label brags that it is “GMO free.” You know. Sea salt. A mineral. Which was mined from the earth. And has never been living. Proclaiming that it’s not genetically modified.
My snark laser beams went into hyperdrive.
I bought the
damned blessed salt because my practitioner told me to bathe in it. Like the scientific genius I am, I opted for the coarsest salt possible. By the time I got around to bathing, I realized I had basically drawn myself a good ol’ gravel ‘n’ nails bath.
Suffice it to say that this whole “avoid negativity” thing is going to take some practice. I wonder if it counts if I call myself compliments but mean them sarcastically. I’m going to go with, “That’s fine, you gorgeous, flaw-free creature, you.”
But seriously, non-GMO salt. I want to pour it all over that marketing exec’s brain slugs.