Thursday, February 7, 2013

This episode brought to you by the letter Rum and the number 6.

After a few drinks last night, I decided to look up an old photo of myself taken by my father.

My father perished in the great Moose Attack of 2010 clutching the "World's Best Daddy" mug I made him in the 1st grade. His last words were to a young German boy who was picking apples in the field that day. He said "Tell my daughter I'm proud of her".

Actually he's an asshole who is court ordered not to contact me, but I like my story better.

I had looked at the photo a few weeks ago when I hadn't noticed any real improvement to my physical form , despite working out and being really healthy. At the time, it seemed like a reality I would never achieve. I was skinny. I'm not posting the picture here, in part because I'm on my phone and also because I don't want to. I don't like the "wow, you look skinny" because I was SKINNY.

I have Lyme disease and it was the worst at that point. I couldn't swallow anything. Nothing.
You want the ultimate diet? Don't eat anything or drink anything.
I was so weak that I had trouble holding a normal book or walking. I trapped in my own body.

If you have never had a serious medical issue, please understand how lucky you truly are.
You probably woke up this morning and decided what to wear without calculating how much energy it would take to button a shirt or zip a zipper. Maybe you had coffee and toast without ever wondering if you could stand the taste of it in a few hours if you got sick. You may have even gone outside and enjoyed a walk instead of only being able to see outside through windows because it would really take to much out of you to pretend to not be sick.

This was me and the only way to describe it would be to say it sucked. Period.

Lyme will always be in my system and at the end of August I couldn't swallow for a full 24 hours. I live with this.

Now back to the photo.
I looked at it last night with the clarity you only find after a few stiff drinks. The same levelheadedness you also use to decide to text a long lost flame. So sudden and without a filter is what I'm saying.

"Gross!" I said looking at the picture.
I realized I could clearly see my collar bone and my arms looked heavy and gaunt. I had no curves, even where curves would be welcome. My ears looked to big and everything seemed to be the wrong proportion. It looked like me, but only if I had gone through a fun house mirror first.

The photo is on the internet and will be out there until Skynet overthrows humanity.

That's who I was, but that's not me.


  1. We lost a lot of great men and women in the Great Moose Attack. Your father will always be remembered as the man who didn't fully read his "How to Hit a Moose" pamphlet.