I was born in a small town where everyone considers it their duty to discuss the successes and failures of others. Usually the successes of their children and the failures of others.
When I was in high school, I was a great player. I won a gold medal and the title of Master of Sports. They wrote about me in the local newspapers, and I never liked to be in the limelight. After all, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to pull that weight all my life, and the bar was already raised.
When I graduated from high school, I had absolutely no idea where I wanted to go, but I had a great love – confectionery. My parents did not appreciate my choice – after all, a gold medal and success in sports, and you want to continue to be a PTU student?
I threw the documents to the Pedagogical University on the last day of application and I studied there without pleasure for 6 years (4 years full-time and 2 part-time). And you know, in the end I never understood what I was trained for.
I worked in the gymnasium for 2 years, then I gave up from the bottom of my depression and left for St. Petersburg. I got a job as a confectioner in a factory, the kind of work where you do not have to strain and think, where there is no big responsibility, because since school it has pressured me so much, that I still dream that I sit at the desk and do not understand anything. I wake up in a cold sweat.
Everything was not bad, I liked my life, there I met my husband, who admired my skills in cooking and did not demand anything more from me, as he did not know me before.
One day I ran into my school when I was on vacation, the principal met me there and started asking me about my life. I said that I was working as a pastry chef, to which she twisted her face and expressed all her dissatisfaction that they did not expect from me, and every three-time student goes to pastry chef, it is not prestigious and not serious, and Peter is a city of losers who run after romance and live in one room with 10 people. It’s like being covered in mud, there’s no other way to put it.
And these blows come one after another. Now I have a child (1.5 years old), I am on maternity leave, my relatives are always trying to jab me that I am a failure in life, but it is not too late to put the child in kindergarten and start catching up on what they consider to be prestige, buy a car and a house, earn money.
And I just want to be left alone. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t want to see anyone but my husband, he still eats my pies and says that I am great.
