I was in a funk for the past couple of days, due to a confluence of related factors.
First of all, there has been some very unkind criticism of my physique. Not unexpected, given a small but statistically significant recent increase in my weight -- but still hurtful. Some unfortunate photos did not help matters.
Does my family have nothing better to discuss than my size and what it portends for my long-term health? Apparently not. The house seems to be swarming with experts. Their consensus is that my tiny meals need to be cut back even further.
Then, the most unkind cut of all -- these so-called experts got nasty about my bone and the fattening nature of marrow. I was already feeling down about how the size of my bone had dwindled over the past couple of days to the point that it was really too little to gnaw on.
Last night they finally did the right thing: They gave me a new bone. I bonded with it for a couple of hours, and then I took it outside to bury it for the night.
I will say this: I slept much better knowing that I had a bone outside.
Yes, under the latest regime my meals are miniscule -- a few crumbs of rice and ground turkey -- but I can handle that as long as I have the bone. I appreciate my family members' trust in me, and I will not let them down by overdoing it with the bone. I will enjoy it judiciously, so that it lasts for at least two weeks, like the last one did. I will even try to act enthusiastic about the exercise program that they've been developing for me.
Because they do have a point about my weight gain. I'm still young, and this middle-aged spread is unacceptable, particularly since I'm already dealing with a serious health risk from my seizure disorder.
I have a lot to live for. I'm going to slim down, with my bone by my side.
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