J'accuse

I've finally figured it out - ok, it took me 51 years, but I have identified my nemesis.  The entity determined to ruin my life...  Yep.  It's my body.  My mind loves me and wants me to be happy... but my body is a stone cold bitch.

I've suspected it for some time (Hank was one hell of a clue, frankly), but I've been looking back and realizing...  whenever I find something that I really enjoy and could potentially be good at, my body finds a way to mess with me.  Take square dancing (and no, don't you judge me!)  I started square dancing when I was in my teens, and loved everything about it - the frilly clothes, the comradery (you never sit on the sidelines at a square dance - if you can't find a guy to dance with, another girl will be happy to step in and dance with you.  I've been in squares that had 7 girls and one guy who was having the time of his life.)  I loved the math of it - the patterns and the rhythm, all being brought together by a roomful of grinning humanity.  I even loved the music - this was 80s country, back before "shake your money-maker" was an acceptable mating call.  But... my body found a way to screw it up for me.  Every evening, I'd start out the night looking good, looking sharp - and end up a dripping mess.  Every single sweat gland would go into overdrive, to the point where I could have been used to cure the California drought.  Do you know how hard it is to allemande left when the guy you're reaching out to slips off your arm into the next square from the sheer level of perspiration?

Then there's food.  I love food - all kinds, all textures, all flavors.  I enjoyed exploring different cuisines, finding new spots...  and then came Diabetes.  I'm not talking your basic pre-Diabetes.  I'm talking having to stab sharp needles into my stomach before every meal - ok, let's be honest.  The needles aren't the worst.  The worst is having to stick that damned poke-demon into my finger to figure out just how out of whack I am *before* I can stick the needle in.  Yes, I still love food - but the delight in a good meal gets taken down several notches when you have to precisely titrate that meal to avoid going a coma.

Hell, my body has even been trying lately to take reading away from me, with various bones in my hands stiffening up or freezing over or just twinging intermittently just to make it hard to hold a book (or a Kindle.)  But I've got its number now...  I know what my body is doing and I'm going to stop letting it get away with this nonsense.