Some days are good days. When you feel full of vitality and energy, and you look in the mirror and smile at your reflection and say to yourself, “Hey, I’m OK!”

Then there are those other kind of days. When you peel yourself out of bed after hitting the snooze button eight times and you can’t even see your reflection in the mirror because you have a layer of sleep crusted on your eyelids. And then when you manage to dislodge the chunks dried gunk from your lashes, you wish you hadn’t, because when you catch a glimpse of your reflection you want to shriek in terror and you cry out, “When did I become a beluga?!” Today is one of those days.

A beluga day.

Beluga days suck.