Every year like clockwork I take another step closer to wearing diapers and eating baby food again. My body knows this and never misses its yearly reminder about how old I actually am.
This morning was no exception. During what I like to call the “This Shit better be good hour”, I rolled over onto what I thought was a stray pillow or a garden gnome and instantly woke up. While trying to figure out what just happened, a cold, dead, floppy hand fell on my face. This was the moment that panic set in, as I realized in my groggy-ness that a zombie was attacking me! Holding my breath (scream), I opened my eyes to see that the zombie hand was attached to me. Mentally bitch slapping myself like a pimp does his hoes, I cleared my head for this next thought.
“I have no feeling in my hand or arm, I have lost all circulation to my arm, because of my fat torso, for so long that they are going to have to amputate my arm!”
While having this thought, I tried with all my will to move the fingers in my cold, claw hand, still resting on my chest. Not being able to move a single finger, I instantly freaked out again, only reaffirming my thoughts about having an arm amputation and my previous zombie attack. This is when I decided to take matters into my own hand, well, my other working hand, anyways. Grabbing my “Claw Hand”, I slowly flexed life back into my zombie arm. Within a few minutes, I was back to giving the world and zombies the finger.
This is how I woke up on my birthday, Thanks, Body! Happy Birthday to me…