I’m tired of them.

I can’t take the pushing on my belly anymore. I had lost about a dozen pounds, but then, of course, we went away so I regained seven or eight, and now my belts, my shorts and even those that are just stretchy push in on my stomach and leave me feeling nauseous.

(Not to mention the blood pressure raise.)

Anyway, I hate going to the office; where are my comfy pants? My PJs? My board shorts with the elastics so old that they’ve lost most of their elasticity?

An elastic with no stretch; if that ain’t a metaphor for getting old, then I don’t know what is.

Target: 900 words
Written: 764 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Club Dead, Charlaine Harris
Comics: The Wicked + The Divine 38-39, The Wicked + The Divine: 1373 AD 1, The Wicked + The Divine: The Funnies 1
Music: Use Your Illusion I, Guns 'n' Roses