Seriously. I don’t know WTF is going on with my body but I’m bloaty and hella flabby. Isn’t that a real purty picture? I almost don’t know this body anymore. I thought the thyroid meds would help in some way but unless they are made of methamphetamines, they ain’t doing shit. Duty is sick of hearing me whine about this because he’s all about the DOING rather than the WHINING (my preferred method). Looking at the pictures of the baptism today horrified me. I am genetically predisposed to fat upper arms and they were on display today in all their loveliness. And I see more and more of my mother’s face and (love you mom but ….) that about sends me into a apoplectic frenzy because … just, no. This aging shit is brutal. BRUTAL, I tell you. FEH.
I am full of grim despair over my body and am thinking up ways to coerce my doctor into giving me speed somehow. (I know. Shut up. I’m not going to do it. But I want to.)
Must de-puffify bod immediately. Good thing my sekrit BFs don’t know I exist because I am so not fit for wild rapture these days. (sigh)
Why thank you, Miss Jody! I think I shall try that and see. My luck, even that won't work. (Remembers the mantra: What you think about expands so I'll think positive (and not about my ass because it needs no further expansion!))
:-)
Isn't it? It's like one day I looked in the mirror and I had weird skin patches on my face (liver spots, I believe they are called), saggy cheeks and boobies to match and feel like a personal flotation device. I am not happy. (sobs into pillow)
Except for the references to your husband and the baptism, I could have written this. "This aging shit is brutal. BRUTAL, I tell you." Truer words were never posted, Snarkela.