Yes, I am old and fat

I had a dream last night that I was standing, with a friend, at a beach bar in Mexico. The beginning of what would seem to be a happy dream. Except there were these 20-something mean girls there, doing what they do best. They were staring at us, laughing. I asked what the hell they thought was so funny. One of them piped up and volunteered that I was old and fat. I don't remember much else of the dream, only being angry, mostly, because I feared she had hurt my friend's feelings.

I woke this morning, still being haunted by that anger. I hate waking with emotional leftovers...not the first time. Yes, I am old, or at least older than a 20-something, or a 30 or 40-something, for that fact. And, yes, I am fat. I carry more weight than I'd like, but no amount of ridicule from myself, or others, will make me anymore svelte. I just really dislike hateful, mean, people.

Yes, I am old and fat. I have been very fortunate and lived a great life. I have been surrounded by friends that frequently invite me to their tables, for food, wine and laughter. I have partied with the best of them, and lived to tell about it. I have been married a long time, to one man, that would give me anything, within his means, to see me happy. And sometimes, that's just a Reese's Cup, but he knows it will make me smile. And smile I will, that I crossed his mind at some weird, random moment...even when I've told him I am trying to watch what I eat. So, go ahead and snicker, if you're really lucky you'll live half the life I have...else wise, you can die young and leave a good looking corpse. I'd rather be old and fat.