A Wonderful Facebook Share – Not Mine, But Have To Post

I showed this post to a male friend of mine – just the picture – and I asked “what do you think about this lady?”  His answer is why he is my friend.  He said “she has a little bit of that, but that’s what a woman should have.  She’s really pretty.”  And I knew he meant it.  Here is the post:
“A while back, at the entrance of a gym, there was a picture of a very thin and beautiful woman. The caption was “This summer, do you want to be a mermaid or a whale?”The story goes, a woman (of clothing size unknown) answered the following way: beautiful“Dear people, whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, seals, curious humans), they are sexually active and raise their children with great tenderness.

They entertain like crazy with dolphins and eat lots of prawns. They swim all day and travel to fantastic places like Patagonia, the Barents Sea or the coral reefs of Polynesia.
They sing incredibly well and sometimes even are on cd’s. They are impressive and dearly loved animals, which everyone defend and admires.Mermaids do not exist.But if they existed, they would line up to see a psychologist because of a problem of split personality: woman or fish?
They would have no sex life and could not bear children.
Yes, they would be lovely, but lonely and sad.
And, who wants a girl that smells like fish by his side?

Without a doubt, I’d rather be a whale.

At a time when the media tells us that only thin is beautiful, I prefer to eat ice cream with my kids, to have dinner with my husband, to eat and drink and have fun with my friends.

We women, we gain weight because we accumulate so much wisdom and knowledge that there isn’t enough space in our heads, and it spreads all over our bodies.
We are not fat, we are greatly cultivated.
Every time I see my curves in the mirror, I tell myself: “How amazing am I ?! ”
Do share if you care.

Don’t forget to share it! 🙂

— with Kimberly Snyder, Subindra Tamang, Mary Grace Trinidad-Alda and 34 others.”

Interesting Thought – Can Super Brain Help With Eating Disorders?

I was watching a show the other day with Dr. Rudolph Tanzi speaking about the Super Brain.  I was quite intrigued.  No, I am not sponsoring his work, so if you are interested, google it.  But it was amazing how he spoke about bringing the three parts of the brain together.  I did take some notes during his presentation (he co-authored his book withSuper Brain Deepak Chopra) and I liked the line “Cells that are wired together, fire together”.  He spoke to when you are angry to think of something that made you happy in life and the endorphins will kick in and change your attitude.  He spoke to “STOP” “S= Stop, T=Take three deep breathes and smile, O= Observe what is happening and P=Proceed with awareness and kindness.”  Very interesting.  The other lines I wrote down that made me think were when he was speaking about what you should do every day to change your mind set.  They were “What am I feeling right now?” and “Is that feeling good for me?” followed by thinking often of what is your meaning in life.

The book is called “Super Brain”.  Interesting concept.

Men Have Eating Disorders Too!

I blogged before the Furious Pete story about men and eating disorders, but still this remains so secondary to the female struggle, which is absurd.  The statistics that they publish are questionable, as men are less likely to admit to having an eating disorder or can hide it better because it is not perceived as likely that this might be the case.  I manorexiamentioned in a comment on the Furious Pete post that I had two male friends that admitted to me having bulimia.  I suppose because I confided in them they did me.  They were two entirely different people.  The first one was a friend in college who just couldn’t control his eating and as he gained weight he had the exact same feelings as a woman – that he was becoming less and less attractive.  Obviously in the 1980’s the whole eating disorder information became rampid, so he decided he would try bulimia.  I was amazed when I found out because, like so many others, I had a stereotypical view of the disease.

The other friend did it for different reasons.  He was my workout coach and very well built – solid muscle.  Wonderful man, very sensitive though.  And for him the bulimia was that he wanted to retain his sculpted body all the while eating the foods he enjoyed.  Again I was surprised.  We hear of ballerina’s being anorexic or bulimic, but we don’t equate a weight lifter in the same vain.

Here are articles worth reading to find out the differences of why a woman would consider an eating disorder versus a male.

The Silent Victims: More Men Have Eating Disorders Than Ever Before

The Young Men Dying To Stay Thin

Furious Pete – An Inspiring Story of a Male Anorexic

A couple of weeks ago I watched this documentary about Furious Pete.  It was such a wonderful story of a young boy who, through the turmoil around him, became an anorexic.  He ended up in the hospital near death.  We don’t hear much about the male side of the disease, and it’s refreshing that this young man has been open about it.  He is now a champion in eating contests, would you believe!  I have added a bit of his intro, and a link for you to follow if you are interested in knowing more.

He is so sweet too.  He is a proud Canadian, and it’s lovely to see.  He is such a wonderful young man.  I’m so glad he found his way out.  His mother said she doesn’t Furious Peteunderstand this new life he has, but she said she prefers it to the other one – the one of an anorexic.

You can join his site, follow him on Twitter, FB and several other social networks.

Hope you enjoy.

In the Winter of 2002 I was hospitalized with Anorexia at the Toronto Sick Kids Hospital. Many factors come to play as to why I ended up in the hospital.

In short, a year prior to my hospitalization everyone in my family had health issues, including me. I ended up using food as a form of control to forget about the negativity that was happening and the stress/pressure of getting into university. I landed up in the hospital at a weight of 120lbs and my heart not being able to keep up with me. Had I gone to the hospital a day later, I may not have been here today.

After leaving the hospital on my own account, clearly not ready yet, I struggled with gaining and liking life, but slowly but surely through the help of friends and internet forums like bodybuilding.com I was able to start gaining and getting a more positive outlook on life. As I began to eat normally and started seeing body composition changes, I began to have more confidence. I actually started to help others after a year or two with their problems, and people were referring to me as an inspiration.

Years of training made me smarter, stronger and I took my body to a state that I can finally say I am pleased with. I learned many lessons and made many mistakes along the way, but it has made me better inside and out today. Recently I picked up on CrossFit training and as a result I have never been stronger with everything I do.
Now for the ironic part of my story…the part that has made me one of the world greatest eaters today.” …. read more

Handwriting and Eating Disorders – The Letters As Words

How do your overall letters look like?  Are they close together, far apart?  Are the words close together or far apart?  Do certain letters run into the line below it?

I will expand on individual letters in the next blogs, but this one will be an overview.  Letters that are very close together and very narrow reflect a person who is internalized, keep to themselves, uncertain, does not like change, are generally self-conscious and not very good with crowds.  The smaller the letters, the greater this butterfly_handwritingcharacteristic.

If you letters are large and squished together, mostly what would fit in between lines of a lined paper, it means you are living in the present, with little regard for philosophy or physical activity.  This type of writing shows signs of immaturity, the lack of desire to want to grow up.  There is a tendency to try to avoid stressful situations.

If your letters have angular forms, although there are good traits that go along with this, such as strong willed and analytical, it also reflects anger, so the strong will can come across negatively if one is not in agreement with another’s opinion.  I do not have these, but I do know that in my state of anger, when I was bulimic, it was a trigger.  This is because, like many of us, I didn’t not want to lash out, so I hurt myself instead.  The typical self-castigation which is also very noticeable in a t-bar slashed downward, whether to the left or right.  This I have seen in my writing in the past.  I will be expanding on the “T” letter in further blogs.

A very controlled handwriting reflects just that – a need for control.  This may show up in those with eating disorders, as their ED is in fact a form of control when their surroundings seem out of control.  They choose their bodies as their main mechanism of “control”, however it ends up becoming that the ED controls them instead.

Someone who prints and script writes at the same time general show a tendency towards being artistic, but also show a conflict between emotions and objectivity.  Another trait of one with ED is a sense of confusion.

If the writing looks almost like a line with bumps – not clear formatted letters – this reflects some who is evasive, uncertain in general, and does not reveal much.  A person with ED can have this type of handwriting, particularly if afraid that one might be found out.

Large space between the words reflects someone a tendency to avoid relationships and isolate oneself.  I don’t think this needs much explanation when it comes to someone with ED.  I know I often isolated myself, choosing my bulimia over my friends.  It was safe and it didn’t judge me.  That sounds “ill minded”, but it was the way I thought.

Words that are retraced reflect someone who does not trust, holds things in, and is afraid of being found out.  They may use silence to keep anyone from knowing too much about them.

If letters from your words run down into the line below (such as a g or a y), there are two reasons for this.  One is that it reflects the physical nature of your being (the longer the lower loop, the greater the physical need, be it activity, sexual, or even work.  If it runs into the line below, that reflects confusion.

I can go on and on, but this gives you some examples of what to look for in your writing, or if you know someone who might have an ED, signs to look out for.





Handwriting and Eating Disorders – Signs In Writing

Let’s look at some signs that show up in your handwriting that can reflect your eating disorder.  I’ll start with the baseline.  Look carefully, when writing on a blank piece of paper.  Is your baseline very straight across?  This is a sign of perfectionism and artificial control, characteristics known too often be a part of someone with an ED.  Another sign is if within that line there are singular words that rise, and some that decline within the sentence.  This shows dissatisfaction and a tendency for rapid change in moods.

A rising baseline reflects optimism, however, again, if there are words that rise and decline, it means that there are frustrations that get in the way of this optimism.42-Handwriting_web

Conversely, a baseline that goes downward on the page shows dissatisfaction, depression, and pessimism.

A baseline that is like a wave, up and down, reflects imbalance of emotions in the flow of thoughts.

Slant is something that many of us with EDs wonder about if we look at our writing.  Some of us wonder why we may change at times from writing straight up, then writing to the right, and the slant to the right may differ.

If your writing in one sitting, so to speak, retains the same slant, this is not unusual.  It doesn’t mean the characteristics of your letters change, but the way your mind is “thinking” is.  If you write straight up during a business meeting, that means you are in a situation where you are thinking analytically and objectively.  If you, then, a couple of hours later decide to write in your diary or a letter to a friend and you are writing with a right slant, then it just means that you are allowing for a more emotional state.

The red light is if you are writing both styles within one paragraph, one sitting.  If you are writing extreme left, straight and then right, then more right, then straight, then left (you understand here I’m sure) within a paragraph, there are issues you have to deal with.  This would reflect a strong lenience towards quick mood transitions.  These moods can be perceived in may different contexts, depending on the other characteristics of your other letters and writing style.  It’s called stacking the traits.

I will leave you with this at this point, until my next post, which will be examples of some of my handwriting analysis of others, without their names noted, and then some, however, I will give out the name, because they have been on the internet, and they are famous.

Keep posted.

Does Your Handwriting Give Your Eating Disorder Away?

There are clues to handwriting that show the signs of eating disorders.  Handwriting Analysts can pick these out, as a doctor can pick out the enlarged muscles on the lower part of your back from constant bending and purging for bulimics.

Did you also know that changing your handwriting can change your life?  I know.  I have made the necessary changes in my own handwriting to make a difference, and I have, as have others, noticed these new positive character traits.HandwritingQueen

I am a grapho-therapist and handwriting analyst.  I can’t guarantee that it works for everyone – changing the letters which reflect your way of thinking, your frustrations, your obsessions, your dislikes.  But I know it did for me.  Looking back at my handwriting then and the one now and the difference in my thinking is indescribable.

If you want to take part in my study to see if this works for others, and you are suffering from an eating disorder, I invite you to send me your handwriting to bullimiaddict@gmail.com.  It is all highly confidential, and I will respond with a brief result, explanation of the traits and suggestion of changing certain letter forms to see if it works for you.

Understand this is not easy.  It took me six months to relearn my writing.  But it also changed me.  Again it is NOT a guarantee that it works.  All I know it did for me.

Handwriting analysis, by the way, is not some clairvoyant psychic phenomena.  It is a science that has been studied much over the years.  It is, as Dr. Wilhelm Preyer stated almost 90 years ago, “writing is basically a neurological process.  To (make the pen) write, the brain must transmit messages through the nervous system to the muscles that guide the pen.  It is the coordination of the brain, the nerves and muscles that determine such basic writing characteristics as the pressure, smoothness of line, ink distribution, shape and spacing of letters and forth.”

The brief results are free conditional on agreeing to return the favor of letting me know six months later if the suggestions of changing the writing, and henceforth proceeding in doing so, have had an effect on you.

If you do decide to go ahead and send me your handwriting, please do so on a blank page with as many letters as you can and in cursive.  I don’t care how messy the writing is.  It has no impact on the outcome.  Also a signature, if willing, speaks volumes.  Again, all is held in the highest of confidentiality.  Content is also insignificant, as I rarely read the words, I’m more interested in the letters and the format.  There is also the option of sending a “real” letter.  I would provide you with my mailing address to do so.  It does increase the accuracy.  Otherwise, however, it can be scanned and emailed.

If you have any further questions, you know you can contact me.  Again it’s bullimiaddict@gmail.com.

To those who choose to do this, thank you in advance.

Fading Time

This is another one of my old works – copyrighted 1987 –  and in tribute to my grandfather who died 16 years ago –  My Papa DID  did die in his sleep – but at 93 – and happy with his wife of 15 years who was and is 15 years younger than him 🙂  She was there by his side when he left us.




I grabbed my briefcase and ran out of the office.  The excess work that had piled up had caused me to lose track of time.  Papa would be waiting on the steps.


i visited my grandfather every Tuesday at five-thirty.  He had become greatly dependent on these visits over the years.  Now, at eighty four, it seemed his most valued reason for making it through the week.


Papa was a great man, regardless of the apparent signs of aging.  Many times I’ve listened to him recount the story of his first days in Canada.  He had begun his career as a math professor, but wasn’t able to associate well with the students.  As such, within a year he left the school board and joined an insurance company as an actuary.


Papa loved figuring out finances.  I remember as a child hearing him mumble numbers to himself as he sat alone in his living room.  He never knew I was sitting quietly in the hall listening.  He was always brilliant with numbers and calculations.  Even now with his failing memory he could account for every penny he spent, the national economy’s financial future and the current expenditures the government was making.


His favourite pastime was analyzing the absurdities of government spending.  I found it all so intriguing and learned so much from him.  I used to joke with him and tell him that I would enter into politics and turn everything around, just like he wanted it to be.


I was suddenly stunned by the screeching of tires bringing a car to a halt.  My wandering mind had not registered the speeding vehicle headed in my direction.  Instinctively, I jumped out of the way, just in time, as the driver shouted profanities as he sped away.


Safely back on the sidewalk, I continued meandering in my thoughts.  I was concerned about the ever growing workload that was accumulating.  It had begun cutting into my spare time, making it increasingly difficult to squeeze in my visits to Papa.  But to stop seeing him would kill him.  I had considered the alternative of having him come to live with me, but after looking into the cost of a day nurse, my cheque book revealed it was impossible.  I just couldn’t afford it.


Poor Papa.  He had managed to outlive three wives and had given up trying to find a fourth.  His last marriage took place when he was seventy-six years old.  I remember how I had cried.  His sparkling eyes glowed like those of a twenty year old man.  He was so happy.  His bride had been fifteen years hi junior.  None of us had dreamed that she would have been the first to go.  But then, just one week before their second anniversary, a tragic car accident had taken her life.  It was a devastating experience for all of us, but especially for Papa.  That day he aged sixty years.  Since then he has been drifting off at intervals which seemed to become more and more frequent as time passed.  I worried about him.  At times I would have to leave him as he stared at the blank wall of his tiny room in a state of pure aloofness.  I tried to tell myself he was merely dreaming of another time.  It was the only consolation I could find; the only way I could sleep at night.


I rushed around the last corner and peered at the steps.  Papa wasn’t there.  Perhaps he had grown tired of waiting.  I glanced at my watch.  It was six o’clock.  I ran into the building and jumped into the elevator to the third floor.  I walked in long strides until I reached his room.  I glanced inside.  The bed was neatly made, void of any ripples.  Unusual, I thought.  A discomforting coolness chilled the atmosphere.


A hand tapped me gently on the shoulder.  I spun around, startled.  My eyes me with those of a nurse, dark skin and stern face.

“I’m sorry Miss.  He passed away just this afternoon during his nap.”

I stared at her in disbelief.  This couldn’t be.  No one had died on me yet.  Not since I was three years old when Nana died!  This couldn’t be happening.


I bowed my head as the tears fell on my shoes.  To think, here I was worried about what little time I had.  I realized my definition was wrong.  Time was life.  It was Papa who’s time had been fading, not mine.


I sauntered over to the bed he had once laid in.  Sitting upon it, rippling the tightly pulled bedspread, I ran my hand upon the surface, whispering “rest in peace Papa, I will miss you!”  I watched the tears penetrate the mustard blanket.  They would have to change the bed one more time.


The Arrangement – Part VI – The Conclusion and thoughts for this holiday season…


Suddenly my hands began to shake and my head felt as though sparks were once again igniting inside.  The tingles travelled once again through my body.  I stood up.  I blinked my eyes.  I was back in my apartment.

“Thank you God,” I whispered, as I looked upward.

The phone ran.  I picked it up.


“Lidana, where the hell have you been?”, an excited voice came from the other end of the line.  It was Brent.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for three months now!  No one knew where you went to.  Everyone was worried sick, including your friends at work.”

Mr. Craig’s face flashed in my mind.  How was I going to explain, if I even had a job left to go to?

“Lidana?  Are you still there?”

“Sorry Brent.  I was just thinking.  Where are you calling from?”

“From Toronto.  I’m back in town for four months and I wanted to take my beautiful blonde out on a date.  There’s only one month left now.  So how about it?  Are you free for dinner?  Maybe you can tell me what you were up to for those three months.”

“Somehow, Brent, I think that would be a bit difficult.”

“Is there someone else?” Brent asked, hesitating.

“You know Brent, I’m not quite sure?”

“Lidana, would you tell me what the hell is wrong?”

“Do you have to use that word so much?”

“What word?”


“What’s wrong with hell?” he asked, quite confused.

I remained silent for a moment.

“Are you sure you want me to answer that?” I finally asked.

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind.  What time do you want to meet?” I asked, as I decided being with a friend was probably what I needed more than anything else at that point.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Sounds good.  See you then.”

As I was hanging up the phone, the doorbell rang.  I got up slowly and went over to open the door.  I stood, stunned, staring at the figure before me.

“YOU!” I shouted.

“Pardon me?” the man asked, with confusion written all over his face.

“I’m sorry to disturb you ma’am, but I’m new in this building and I was just wondering if you would happen to have a screwdriver I could borrow.”

I continued to stare in amazement.  It couldn’t be.  I must have been losing my mind.

“Did I get you at a bad time?” he asked.

I snapped out of my daze.

“No.  I’m sorry.  You just look so much like..”.  I stopped.  “Never mind.  Come in, I’ll get you that screwdriver.” ( at this point I was feeling I needed one too, but of the liquid form.)

I went over to a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out the tool.  I walked back to the door.

“Here.” I said handing it to him.

“Thank you.”

“By the way, you’re name wouldn’t happen to be Luc, would it?”

“No ma’am.  It’s Daemon.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling rather foolish.

“Thanks for the loan.  I’ll have it back to you in about an hour.”

“No problem.”

I closed the door behind him.  Could it be? Naw.  I headed to my room to dress for dinner.  Brent would be arriving soon, and I didn’t want to be late.


copyrighted 1987

Now to the ones that read this story, I just might do a follow up, but in the interim, let me please share this with you.  I wrote this 25 years ago, and still to this day there are the “yuppies” and their children are now texting at dinner time, always wanting the latest technology, the most expensive clothes (like TNA?? I can get a pair just as nice at Walmart that look the same, just not with the name, for 1/4 the price!!), and if they don’t have everything they asked for for Christmas, they don’t realize what they got, only the one thing they didn’t.

I live in the country, no running water, with the basics.  Yes, I have technology, but only what I need to function with.  Three beautiful dogs, 3 beautiful cats, some second hand furniture, and some pass-me-downs from my parents that mean the world to me, along with pictures and letters from when I was 11 that I saved.

Our Christmas this year will be the best ever because we are NOT exchanging gifts.  For us, this will be about being family.  Being together.

Lest we remind our children that Christmas, or even the rest of the year, is not about what you acquire, it’s about what you require, and those around you who love you.  Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays with Faith, Love and Hope from me.

The Arrangement – Part V



Carl, the butler, who’s name I learned when one of the maids had called out to him one day, came into the study wher I sat next to the glowing fire.

“Mr. Night is here to see you, Miss.”

“Mr. Night?” I asked, wondering if I was suppose to know him.

“Yes, Miss.  He would like to have a word with you.”


After a moment of hesitation, I told Carl to let him in.  Seconds later a tall man entered the room escorted by my butler who disappeared soon after, leaving me along with this stranger.  He stood about 6’3″ tall, with transparent eyes of blue.  He had a well trimmed mustache and wore blue jeans and a royal blue shirt.  He smiled, exposing his bright white teeth.


“So how do you like this so far?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Like this so far?” I queried, not sure if he was implying what I thought he might have been.

“All this glamour you inherited.  I know all about the arrangement.”

“The arrangement?” I asked again, becoming more confused by the minute.

“Yes, the arrangement.  You have chosen to be the Queen of the new generation of who are known as “Yuppies”.  I am the King, you see.  I have led these people to their desire for materialism, and they will be ensuring the generations next will become even more hooked on materialism because they will not have worked at anything to acquire.”


He paused for a moment then continued.

“I see you have taken quite a liking to your own material acquisitions.  This is what I hoped for.  You will make the perfect bride.”

“Hold on just one minute, please.  I don’t understand any of this.  Yes, I have taken a liking to this lifestyle, but I am beginning to have some reservations.  I miss my old lifestyle.  I miss my friends and my family.  I’m getting tired of all the glamour and materialism, the play acting among the high rollers.  It was just two minutes ago that I was thinking about this.  I want to be ME again.  And as for me being your bride, don’t you think you are pushing it a little?  After all, we don’t even know each other.”

“Ah, but you are wrong.  You have known me for many years and have particularly known me for the past three months.  Everybody knows me, though many wish they didn’t.”


I found myself staring into his luring eyes.  He was breathtakingly handsome.  But I knew I had to remain indifferent, no matter how hard it was.

“Whatever you say.  I still don’t understand you.  And I still want to go home.”

“Sorry.  You’re time is up.  In fact, today marks three months of your being in this position.  You lasted the longest.  You are also the only one who never asked questions.  It showed your desires were stronger than your curiosity.  I like that.”

“Why don’t we put all this beating around the bush aside.  I’d like a clear explanation.”

“Feisty too.  Okay, why don’t we grab a glass of wine and sit down.”


He walked over to the bar in the centre of one of the bookcases and began pouring two glasses of white before I even had a chance to decline.  He handed me the glass with his slender hands free of callouses or scars.  They were actually extremely smooth.  His nails, which appeared to be manicured, were long and clean.


We both sat down.


“Well, my dear Lidana, as you have managed to remain in this house for three months, you are now committed to a marriage.  My name is Luc, short for Lucifer.  This is my home.  The ring you are wearing is what brought you here.  Many other women before you have been in your position, but after only one month they had figured out that there was something eery about the situation they were in and as such, tried to escape.  Such a pity.  No one will ever know what became of them.”


His eyes squinted as a grin appeared on his cold face.  This sent a shiver through my entire body.

“But you, my dear,” he continued, “you were smart.  You remained quiet.  In effect, you saved your own life.  And now, you have committed your soul to an eternity of assuring that people continue to desire money and things and pass this desire to their children.  I have found that man is such a desirous animal, always wanting more.  He loves luxury and the more luxury he has, the easier it is for me to claim his soul.  Or hers of course.  But a bachelor in the world of high rollers doesn’t have the proper image.  So I need a wife to accompany me to gatherings.  Such a pretty wife you will make.”

“But I hate this.  I hate all of this.  I’m NOT a materialistic person.”

“No?  Have you not immersed yourself in such possessions over the last three months?  Running up incredible expenses on my credit cards?  So, let us not be hypocritical my dear.  It’s so unbecoming of you.  It’s a fact that anyone can learn to love things more than people.  It happens all the time.  Why do you think there are so many workaholics, shopaholics and workoutaholics around?  Money, things, self-image ego.  But you won’t have to worry so much about that with me.  I can spend more time with you than an ordinary man could ever dream of.”

“Wonderful,” I whispered under my breath.

“Please.  Sarcasm is the lowest form of humour, hadn’t you heard?  I care little for it.  Anyway, the wedding is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.  The gown will be delivered here tomorrow morning.  I will see you at two o’clock.  Just think, you have an eternity to look forward to.  How many women can say that?”


As he left the room I sat there for a while, not quite sure whether this was still just a dream that was turning into a nightmare, or whether I was going crazy.  I looked down at the ring.  I suddenly hated the sight of it.  What a fool I was.  Then I remembered the license plate on the limousine: LUC 666.  Why had it not registered before?  And all those license plates in Toronto with 666 on them!  I wondered now if they were followers.  Probably.  My stomach churned.  There had to be a way out.  I took the ring off and threw it into the fireplace.  The curse of my life.  I didn’t want it anymore.  I didn’t want any of this anymore!


… to be continued.


Copyrighted 1987