I’ve still been looking.  Looking at my face.  I have high cheekbones.  Or so I have been told? Yes.

Or so I can see?  Now?  Yes.

Cue: “Chopin Nocturne” (no, I am listening to it, soothing and appropriate.)

I am looking again in the mirror, but not for vanity’s sake, no.  For understanding.

My ex-partner called me “Gaunt,” when I became extremely, disgustingly ill.  Completely out of the blue due to gastrointestinal problems. Problems? Indeed! I dropped roughly 25-30lbs. and half of which, was in two weeks.  10 of which, I have now attained back.

Which returns me to my cheekbones.  And being: “Gaunt.”  I am showing shadows beneath them.  Is that a sign? I am smiling now.  It is taking me back to my Goth days, trying to look so “Gaunt.”  Well, who now at 39 has had the last laugh! I am smaller now than I was when a teenage Goth! This is the smallest I’ve been since…well, before I was even an adult?

And yet, even through all of the gastrointestinal illness, I did not look “Gaunt.”  No.  And my bones did not show through so much.  Not as now? No? It’s not extreme but I am seeing it.  Even as I type now, I see my wrists… *shakes head*

Perhaps it’s time to get some of that great, black gear; get myself decked out head to toe.  It looks like I may definitely suit the role.  More so than I did as a teenager.  Definitely.


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