I lead a relatively pristine life. I don’t smoke, drink rarely, eat well and take lots of vitamins. (Okay, no exercise, but still.)
Ever since my dad got sick, though, I’ve been living on absolute crap. For breakfast this morning, I had two pudding snacks, a piece of honey-baked ham left over from my niece’s college-graduation party Sunday (actual protein!), a Fudgesicle and a couple of crackers. For lunch, nachos and a Pepsi.
It’s as if I’m compelled to punish my own body for being alive – or maybe it’s to make myself feel alive. I’m not sure. Whatever it is, it’s the strangest thing.
What’s even weirder is, everyone keeps telling me how great I look. “Did you lose weight?”
Yeah, my father’s malignancy is eating away at me from the inside.