Heart is beating. Blood is flowing. Bowel movements on check. No UTI. No yeast infection. No ingrown pubes. No lumps. No weird moles. A belly that jiggles, but whatever.
Coffee on table. Lots of water around. Even birthday flowers from my aunt. Phone is charging. Computer is working. Reception, so-so.
Plans with friends. An exercise class later tonight. An upcoming project to work on. A full to-do list. Just got paid. Thank you, Clorox.
A little bit of sadness creeps up. An air of loneliness takes root. A chip on my shoulder from a previous break-up. The gate of childhood grief has now been activated. A heavier weight emerges.
My heart is broken and always has been. Not from him, but from life. My blood is cold. No great shit will fix this. My vagina is barren. My pubes have chaotically erupted. I wish my tits were bigger. I’m a lump of lard. Why can’t I ever lose my stomach?
Coffee is dull. Water is just..water. I want fucking sparkling. These flowers are on their way out. Now they stink. My phone always dies. Fuck Apple, and while we’re at it, fuck AT&T too.
I’m my friend’s charity case. I don’t want to get on the freeway to burn a couple calories when I probably ate more than my share today. Fuck I’ve got this project. I probably won’t be good anyway. I have so many chores I have to do. Why can’t I be the spokesperson for Clorox? Nope. Just one commercial for me.
My heart is beating. My blood is flowing…and who am I kidding. A good shit can probably fix all of this.
Thank you, body.
And thank you Clorox.
(Although I am available to be your spokesperson).