.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

Monday, December 06, 2004

Wasting Away

Sometimes I’d like to walk outside and uproot a utility pole with my bare hands. The problem is that I have the sort of weak, womanly hands you read about in such magazines as Women’s Day and Parlor Pastimes Quarterly. I also wear several heavy rings. Sometimes my rings are so heavy and my hands so womanly that I can barely lift my arm high enough to brush a wispy feather from my alabaster cheek.

Maybe I wouldn’t be so weak if someone would bring me my meals. I refuse to fix my own meals. My cooking is beastly and my baking is worse. It tastes like texture and salt. And that’s just my signature tiramisu.


Blogger Chris Cope said...

Has Fat Old Molly neglected you again? Shall I have my man drive round to your estate and collect you? We can dine together.

4:32 PM  
Blogger Esther Wilberforce-Packard said...

Yes, she’s horrible! You can send your man round, if you like. He’s dreadfully handsome. But I can’t dine with you. Your daughter’s 26-inch prosthetic proboscis keeps me in a state of terror. And you know I can't eat in a state of terror!

5:21 PM  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home