Tuesday, August 1, 2017

August 1, 2017

Dear Diary,

I don't know if it's the Lorazepam or a weather change, but lately when I wake up I notice the inside of my nose is much crustier than usual. Dr. Morell says it's a trade-off: If we cut down the Triamterene, I'll lose the boogers but retain more water than Hoover Dam and my ankles will swell up to the size of your average rogue elephant's.

I've always retained water, and Bill says he always loved my cankles, but that crew of turncoats my staff decided early in 2015 that if I were serious about the you-know-what, I was going to have to slim down for the camera. The mainstream media can be vicious about one's appearance and I certainly wasn't going to make their job easier.

A girl has to maintain strict rules about photography if she wants to avoid scaring little children keep her visual image positive. So I made up a few rules. First, no shots from below the tummy line. I have skinny shoulders but a pretty wide caboose. Second, no shots from the back because, you know, I have a pretty wide caboose. Third, no top lighting, because it accentuates my eye bags. Dr. Morell says that the Triamterene was supposed to drain those, too, but even at double doses I ended up traipsing through the entire you-know-what looking like I had two kielbasas stitched to my face.

Now that I think about it, I'm not really all that different from Richard Nixon. After his 1962 humiliation California as a pasty-faced loser, he "went away" for a while, too, and worked on his look. Then in 1968, he re-emerged looking tan, rested and ready and ended up ascending to the throne becoming Commander in Chief that same year. He had eye bags, too, but I'm pretty sure he had work done. Going under the knife scares me. You never know if the surgeon is a Republican.

Nixon had a really heavy beard, too. Then all of a sudden, it was lighter. Which reminds me it's about time for my next electrolysis appointment. Either that, or a new comb for my face.

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