|||| a healthy heart is a happy heart ||||

[disclaimer: i hope first of all that this makes some sense. secondly, i tried and tried all day to think of some other sort of metaphor or whatever for this cause im sure its awful somehow, but i couldnt. i mean, this whole subject is so awful anyway, like those fat-people chairs that you hear about in movie theaters and things that its just better to avoid the subject altogether: "a gentleman never asks a lady about weight, age, or political preference," and that sort of thing. but i couldnt think of anything else, and i am not being superflous with these particular words, so hopefully it will be alright. so awful or not, here it is and so please dont be offended if it for some reason offends you. and im > terribly < sorry that i talk my head off while im at it [and that i mix my metaphors].]
i feel like a really fat girl who, for a very very long time, has been nothing but a huge blob of fat. and then, by mistake, i got so busy that i forgot to eat and i lost some weight and then i discovered, perhaps for the first time, that i actually did have a figure that was hiding under the blob. "hmmm" i thought. " i have an actual figure. and hey, i might even be kind of cute, if i wasnt so blobishly fat" and so at this point i decide that i ought to excercise and eat right and things of that sort and i tried and it sort of worked for a while. but i am still addicted to icecream and chocolate and bread and everything that you arent supposed to eat when you are trying to lose weight. butbut i know that i have a figure under the blob somewhere, for i have seen it and for the first time in ages and ages, the "big and blob" clothing store didnt have anything that fit. and for the first time in ages and ages i got to go to a regular store to buy some pants. granted, i had to buy a 22wide. but im not shopping at the fatclothes store anymore.

in short: my heart is discovering that it has a girlish figure. my heart is not, and indeed need not be, square, as i have been long trying to convince myself. [a square heart, i have decided, is alright. "and alrights not bad, but alrights alright." i still do have a heart after all. its not as if i havent been able to laugh or cry or feel or love or be grumpy or live or have friends or bake cookies or enjoy the sunset or receive sufficient blood and oxygen. but a square is perhaps a bit inhibiting when it comes to performing the tasks required of a heart? perhaps hearts beat stronger than squares or something.] and slowlyslowly--as slowly and as discouragingly as pounds come off after christmas--my heart is being chisled into a heart-shaped heart again. and it is happening so slowly and such a little at a time that i wouldnt even know it if it didnt hurt a bit when it is being chisled. goodness knows what will happen if my poor heart ever get to be actually heartshaped or something [hopefully something like the list below indicated by the * would happen] and other somethings like...those other things that are wonderful, painful, hilarious, and noteworthy that i cant think of any of them at this time of night, because a heart should increase blood flow, which should increase a lot of other things, like feeling, tenderness, and ability to be heartbroken. and stuff [which is a good thing to say when you dont know what you are talking about.]

[oh i thought a something: being sexy: not in the generally-thought of sexy way, but in that other more sexy way, like 1950 movie-franksinatra / audreyhepburn-highheels in the library-golashes on a rainy day-way. the sort of sexy that necessitates that the model being able to read a book as well as wear high heels. the difference between sexy and sexy is the difference between like and likelike; wheat bread v. wheatbread, that fake gross playdough v. the real deal, a midnight run to IHOP v. a stop at waffle house. because apparently being sexy was one of my life goals once, and it still is, but only in the way i define it and i did a poor job of it here, but you get the idea?] and the problem is that my propensity for starting such endeavors is very great and my ability to finish them is very small, but i shall try to very diligently do my sit-ups as faithfully as i can muster up the guts to tackle them [remembering all the while of course that i do know of One who will drag my heart kicking and screaming to the gym if necessary so i dont have to muster up the guts all by my lonesome.] and try to keep my chocolate splurges to a minimum, [neverminding of course that i am in the middle of baking a chocolate cake at this second.]
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* this is what i very much would wish for and intend to be if i had anything to do with it: 20--kind, sexy, gracious, intelligent, selfless, funny [and by that, i mean able to be amused--one mustnt wish for too much you know], polished 25--married, sexy, gracious, funny, improved cooking skills, happy job 35- a few kids, patient, friendly, sexy, absolutely published by now, not obnoxiously motherish, godly, comfortable [i want to be a high-heel person who doesnt wear high heels anywhere near all the time but who could, and who you can be barefoot to talk to, if that makes sense.] 45-still sexy, still not obnoxiously motherish, gracious, comfortable funny, have friends, caring 65- one of those halfway oldish women that you just adore--adventuresome, halirious, classy, gracious, well-read, terribly easy to talkto and ever so kind and godly. maybe a ridiculously awesome grandma too. still being published.90-one of those sassy, kind, funny old people who arent grumpy. wearing really bright lipstick finally because ill have stopped worring about what looks good or not. having a terribly good and interesting time hanging out till heaven.

Posted 1/15/2005 11:11 PM