We’re done with this costume rehearsal story!

“Houston! … this is Ragusa.”

The Psychologist’s Column, edited by Cesare Ammendola

Psychological tests reveal that those who ask you on social media “Are you ready for the costume?” he has a certain propensity to play in other people’s fights.

Well, yes. The slogan that reminds us how unprepared we are for the beach challenge has just begun. It’s amazing how we allow such media blows, without suing anyone. However, for example, who among us would go through the anteroom of the brain to warn two middle-aged ladies in the elevator?

“Against cellulite, don’t be surprised! There is a cure for every fat growth! “It is clear that the two women would produce a frantic zumba on our knees for at least six floors of an elevator. And they would be right. We don’t, however! We suffer. We suffer.

They say that if you go to the gym, you lose three pounds. And if you go there too, you can lose up to five, between May and June. Yes, because May and June, which in the Chinese calendar are the months of the White Snake, in Ragusa (and in Italy) are officially the months of Pilates. But, cruelty wants us to start the ice cream season between May and June.

“Try the small cup with blueberries or kiwi. It’s light! Enjoy it and stay fit, skinny and big! “

“But try the blueberries for yourself, fool! Conazzo, if it’s not hazelnut, what kind of ice cream is it?

In fact, it is not easy to choose between a life always online and a boring green apple existence. They say that to have a hazelnut and chocolate cone, you have to run 25 km, seven hours of tantric sex and two Ave Maria. The same thought frightens me: I have not prayed since First Communion.

I don’t know about you. I don’t go out. I prefer the elevator.

Now to enter the beach you have to show the GreenPass (not in digital format but physical): and, after you have weighed yourself, they do not let you in, in fact, they do not let you in, if you are not already tanned on Easter Monday , tattooed like an iguana, smooth and shaven like the marble of Santa Maria in Fiore, straight, muscular and turtle, fragrant and dry like a magic tree of a Norwegian autumn (you have to be a fjord in short, despite the 40 degrees ). in the shade). And if you’re a mozzarella with a bit of Botero roundness, you have to be sad and you don’t have to smile in the sunlight, and if you dare to parade to the shore they give you the vows with signs, like in version X Factor. by Dante Alighieri.

How did we get here? Could it be that the real tragedy of a pandemic has not taught us anything about the freedom to be there?

Is it possible that the models of singers, actresses and influencers have to impose on all of us the impossibility of plasticized beauty and an unnatural mysticism of Botox?

My sarcasm erupts from a truly dramatic and professional consideration: in “Costume Dress Syndrome” I see subtle, perfidious and ubiquitous psychological violence against all of us, but especially teenagers, the girls who live in Tik Era Tok and Instagram. In a season that has seen eating disorders grow.

And I wish that in a universal rebellion of the Spirit, the happiness of those who care about it would explode in the wonderful waves of our lives. Our life.