Missing pieces

Lately I’ve been feeling the urge more strongly to use the few meager artistic talents I have for good. Or perhaps I should say I’ve realized how I’d like to once again feel comfortable saying I HAVE any artistic talents, and given my long hiatus from the world of regular long and challenging rehearsals, I can’t really say my CURRENT talents amount to much beyond an ability to reminisce.

So Jamesdad* invited me to join his band and I accepted. We’re called “Egyptian Cotton.” We’re a covers band.
Okay, that’s a lie. We don’t have a name. And we’ve agreed to have some cover songs in our arsenal in case we’re needing a break from Jamesdad’s songs, but that’s about it. Honestly, given how splendidly our improv jam session went tonight wherein I scorned Jamesdad’s lyrical love lines in favor of “Mr. Herbie the squishy cat that has my heart because he is squishy,” I’m not sure covers will ever much be needed.

In other news, my cat has become grossly fat so I’ve put her on a diet. Day 2 and she still looks like a cross between Shamu and Jaba the Hut. Oh well. Baby steps. I, on the other hand have – NO SHIT – gained 10 pounds in the last two months!!! AMAZING!!! Looking at me, you’d think I’d descended from a long line of pudding cups. Not a good look, I tell ya.
Maybe I should be more upset or stressed about it, but honestly, I’m just… not. I recently left my job and am actually HAPPY about me for the first time in so long. Apparently this happiness has cause me to become delusional, and so I am easily assured when I hear friends say things like “eh, 10 pounds in two months? Yeah, me too. You’re fine. If you gain it fast, you can lose it fast.” Hahaha I have no idea if Rinn’s* logic is even close to true, but I’m happy enough to NOT CARE. Sounds good to me. And my pants still fit, so at least I can not care wilst rocking trousers, should I opt for that route. (Being unemployed, though, does mean a lot more no-pants time. It’s kiiiind of awesome. No pants dance off for dayyyyyys!)
I think it’s great when friends say “oh, you’ve gained weight? I can’t tell at all!” because maybe they need their eyes checked. But my personal belief as to why friends say that is because THEY DON’T CARE. It’s not their problem. They aren’t worried about it. They aren’t worried about you. If they were, they’d (hopefully) say something.
You know, for as many lives as obesity and starvation/malnutrition claim every single year, I truly hope we can get to a point of tactfully and constructively addressing weight issues with our peers. It’s not hard with cigarettes – virually all of my smoking friends take their breaks with the seemingly-obligatory ‘gonna go whittle away at my life span’ with the non-smoking friends saying ‘when are you gonna quit?’ – why is it harder with food?? I barely know anyone who’s quit smoking cold turkey, and I similarly know virtually nobody who has lost weight or beat anorexia by “just quitting.” Maybe someday we’ll get a Nicorette patch for eating issues. In the meantime, I’m glad my friends trust me to get correct enough to deny any awareness to my sudden increased buoyancy. You guys are the TITTIES.

Here’s to taking care of you, even if it means accidentally becoming a temporary stand-in for the marshmallow monster from Ghostbusters!

*a nickname, clearly


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