Feeling The Love

Have to tell you, all day yesterday I was seriously not feeling the love as a fat fuck in a big city.

First of all, the humungoid expanse of my ass finally succeeded in destroying our toilet seat. I mean, completely snapping the thing off its hinge, and dumping me halfway to the floor in the middle of the night – thankfully, my clench reflex has yet to be entirely destroyed  by the slam-dunk action of the Xenical. Of course, I really should have mentioned the whole ‘toilet seat placed delicately back into place, but likely to surf towards the floor at the slightest pressure’ thing to d, but you know how it is when you’re married – you come back to bed, and they’re...erm, well let’s say purring, shall we?...and you just can’t bear to wake them to tell them of the mighty power of your ass.

Needless to say, she found out for herself anyway. About an hour or so later, when she too found herself heading to the ground at a rate of knots, having to clench to avoid catastrophe. Bless her, she refrained from throwing the detached toilet seat at me at four in the morning.

And then I got stuck in a turnstile.

No, really, I did. I needed a pee, and we were at Hammersmith bus station. Not only have they upped the price to 50p per pee, but they appear to have narrowed their turnstiles, so only thin fucks can get what used to be called ‘sanitary relief’ I had to turn sideways to even approach the thing, then put in my money, shuffled sideways a couple of steps, and realised that the turnstile had stuck. Didn’t really help that I now had one rod stuck in my thigh, and another that was threatening to get the kind of intimate that would need a good meal and a smoke to make it acceptable.

There was, of course, no-one to help me out, and if there had been, I’d have been too mortified to ask them. When faced with this kind of problem, I’ve discovered that brute force and ignorance are your friends. I waggled my flab back and forth a bit, and pushed forward, hard. The turnstile shifted, and I ended up almost cartwheeling into the gents, with hands and head hurtling downwards fast. Which any gent will tell you is not how you want to announce your presence in the gents...

So, as I say, yesterday, not feeling the love. Had all this still in my mind when I went to work this morning. Then I saw a frail old woman, shivering, apparently with fear as she walked up the Kensington High Street. She was blind, and tapping along with her stick. And it hit me like a train how little I actually have to worry or bitch about. I cannot fathom how brave you have to be, to be without your most generally-used sense, and afraid to go out in the busy, mad, insensitive world, and yet to do it anyway.

And then of course today, I did half a day’s work and came away to the seaside, with my beautiful wife, and my mad but – as I get older, increasingly cool – parents. Yeah – feeling the love right now, right enough.

Blood this morning, quite high – 7.6. Blood later on today, better – 6.5.