This is a writing game where you write about your day in third person. The original concept can be found here.
"Oh crud," said Lily. "I have been off work for three and a half hours. I need to sleep but my damn fibromyalgia has flared up and I'm so sore. Oh, if only I knew a few massage therapy students that needed a victim to practice on."
Lily had promised her mother that she would come over at two o clock and stay with her father so her mother could get out of the house for a while. Being a diligent daughter, Lily knew this is something she really needed to do. She hoped that her body would decide to go to sleep soon, or decide to be good and awake, but either way, that her muscles would stop hurting. Fibromyalgia sucked big donkey dong, there was no two ways about it.
Still, Lily was in a fairly good if somewhat anxious mood. She was looking forward to her son coming home from college tomorrow for the Thanksgiving break. Lily hoped that she would never end up having a stroke like her father had, and become a burden to her son. Of course Lily's Dad hadn't planned to have a stroke. That was the kind of thing that happened to other people's families and you felt sorry for them. It wasn't supposed to happen to your family. Four years after the fact, Lily still found herself feeling that way.
Lily remembered the last time she had seen her father up and walking around without help. It had been his 68th birthday and he had come to visit her and her son. They had made apple-smoked chicken bratwurst on the grill and Dad had been very happy. Lily wondered if Dad remembered that day. His short-term memory was no longer very sound. At least he still knew who everyone was. That was something to be glad of.
"Life is a cash and carry world--you pay as you go," said Stephen King's character Mike Anderson in Lily's mind. "Sometimes it's a little--mostly it's a lot. Sometimes it's all you have."
Truer words were never spoken, Lily thought as she sipped at her Light Vegetable soup. She hoped that one day she would be able to permanently improve her eating habits enough to lose 100 pounds. She wasn't addicted to anything--except food. And that only got bad when the low periods of self loathing came.
"Ain't nobody's perfect," Lily thought. "And if anyone is, show me the nearest cliff so I can lead the sucker off it to their doom!"
"Oh crud," said Lily. "I have been off work for three and a half hours. I need to sleep but my damn fibromyalgia has flared up and I'm so sore. Oh, if only I knew a few massage therapy students that needed a victim to practice on."
Lily had promised her mother that she would come over at two o clock and stay with her father so her mother could get out of the house for a while. Being a diligent daughter, Lily knew this is something she really needed to do. She hoped that her body would decide to go to sleep soon, or decide to be good and awake, but either way, that her muscles would stop hurting. Fibromyalgia sucked big donkey dong, there was no two ways about it.
Still, Lily was in a fairly good if somewhat anxious mood. She was looking forward to her son coming home from college tomorrow for the Thanksgiving break. Lily hoped that she would never end up having a stroke like her father had, and become a burden to her son. Of course Lily's Dad hadn't planned to have a stroke. That was the kind of thing that happened to other people's families and you felt sorry for them. It wasn't supposed to happen to your family. Four years after the fact, Lily still found herself feeling that way.
Lily remembered the last time she had seen her father up and walking around without help. It had been his 68th birthday and he had come to visit her and her son. They had made apple-smoked chicken bratwurst on the grill and Dad had been very happy. Lily wondered if Dad remembered that day. His short-term memory was no longer very sound. At least he still knew who everyone was. That was something to be glad of.
"Life is a cash and carry world--you pay as you go," said Stephen King's character Mike Anderson in Lily's mind. "Sometimes it's a little--mostly it's a lot. Sometimes it's all you have."
Truer words were never spoken, Lily thought as she sipped at her Light Vegetable soup. She hoped that one day she would be able to permanently improve her eating habits enough to lose 100 pounds. She wasn't addicted to anything--except food. And that only got bad when the low periods of self loathing came.
"Ain't nobody's perfect," Lily thought. "And if anyone is, show me the nearest cliff so I can lead the sucker off it to their doom!"
2 comments:
You can lead a horse to water, but cartoon characters don't fall until they look down.
I am very glad that Lily isn't addicted to any other things besides food!
My husband needs to lose some weight to safeguard his health, too. The hardest part for him is the fact that it comes off one pound at a time. I see that as the glass half full with the comfort of knowing that it's okay that it can't be fast. He sees that as me not getting it because I'm not on a diet. There is one thing I get, though. I get it that it's hard, *really* hard, to make changes.
I think Lily is fabulous at any weight, but I'm glad she wants the best of health. She certainly deserves to have it, too.
Post a Comment