A few weeks ago I was bragging to all of you about how I was going to the gym. I was determined to finally lose all the post-pregnancy weight I have carried around for the past 34 years (funny how that works), and I was miraculously going to look younger and fitter, just by going to the gym. It seemed like a pretty good plan, and then I fell ill. Strange thing really, but there is something quite interesting about your whole outlook on life when you are unwell. I ran a fever for a couple of days that linked my hot flashes together and I swear I could have melted the Arctic icecap……My voice, normally average pitch, suddenly became that of a 25 cent hooker (I rather liked that part). My nose became a beacon that could have guided the Titanic away from that fatal iceberg, and my bones felt like they needed ironing. It was not fun. But as I lay cocooned in my blankies, watching really bad movies on Netflix, I pondered the journey that was my life, the size of my hips, my second chin, and what the hell Mel Gibson was thinking when he married that Russian woman? I thought about how hard it was to paint my toenails now that my stomach is so big, and there isn’t even a baby in there, just lots of chocolate…..I thought about how crazy I was last year to get married at the age of fifty, and how impossible it is to understand how they put a ship inside a bottle? I reminisced about how much I enjoyed smoking (before I quit), why I ever thought Llewellyn Walker was good looking (high school). I wondered what might have become of my life if my mother had actually listened to my teacher and put me in Drama school,not Grammar school. What would have become of me if I had said NO to a very handsome Air Force guy, and not become pregnant at 15. Deep subjects for a menopausal woman to ponder, a woman who despite the occasional gummy-worm, had no appetite for food (the upside of an illness). As I lay prostrate upon the couch, my husband stopped by occasionally with quiet offers of “is there anything you need?” in a badly faked nurse’s voice. He would quickly leave the room if I said no, happily escaping back to his man chores,(things involving gadgets and power-tools). This awful sickness ravaged my brain for 4 days – my mind became weaker, my will for life jaded by too many Jane Austen movies. But then suddenly, the fog in my head began to clear, and with happiness I realized that my fever had abated. The sexy voice lingered, the beacon still shone bright, I also had a marvelous 1/2 inch long fever blister that ran from the bottom of one nostril. But damn it I was going to live!!!!
I took a shower, washed my hair, in a fit of giddy happiness I even pulled out my mascara (yes ladies…..make-up!) – I emerged from the bathroom feeling like I had been born again….I had beaten this illness and now could face the world! My husband passed me in the hall…. “Yuck” he said, “what’s that big sore on your face?” I went immediately back to the couch……………………………….. Jude the scarred Still fat…….