when i wake up there are voices in my head. the bad angel. the good angel. Pretty much every day. the bad angel saying "you're fat, get a job, you're old, you probably have dementia, you're fat..."
The good angel is still asleep because she knows there is nothing to worry about. so it's just the fat angel, i mean bad angel, and me. and my various ailments.
recently i hurt my thumb. it became urgent so i went to Urgent Care. the generic prescription was 90 bucks. welcome to America. and i don't even know how i hurt it! maybe i do have dementia.
at urgent care they weighed me. how rude. i thought they are supposed to make you feel better, not worse. i have inexplicably gained forty pounds since i got married fifteen years ago.
when i got married i thought, with relief, "i don't have to be skinny anymore - i got my man." we could eat, drink, and be merry. and we did, do, and are.
(my brother suggested that maybe my husband rolled over onto my thumb in the night and squished it with his belly. or an even bigger part, like his manhood. i did not tell the doctor that. doctors are not known for their senses of humor.)