I think I want to buy a new car today, or maybe tomorrow, or sometime soon. I know that I shouldn't, but knowing things is not what makes me happy.
I'm relieved that this is a holiday weekend. The extra day offers more time to escape and recuperate, by a factor of 50%. From what it is that I am escaping or recuperating I'm not quite sure. The last few months have been taxing for some reason. Perhaps it is the result of the foot injury in early summer. It kept me from enjoying this summer quite the same as I did the last one. I have gained ten pounds back from where I was last year at this time. Twelve pounds when I am being honest. I'd like to claim that my happiness is not derived from such a superficial condition, but it's not true. It's not superficial, I mean. It is internal and works towards my unhappiness.
Fat does make me unhappy, but food is much better than Kate Moss has claimed. There are few easy answers for a nearly fifty year old man, and few can remain actively interested in the struggle.
I just woke up from a nap that lasted about an hour. I had written the above and below paragraphs and now I don't want to publish them, but neither do I wish to rewrite anything. It's similar to the fat conundrum - happiness matters less than laziness, particularly over time.
I am not a role model for young vulnerable women, that I know of, so I can repost Kate Moss' words somewhat confidently, sure that they won't malevolently encourage anyone to accidentally be skinny.
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