CONSCIOUS OF MY CONSCIOUS

Everyone has one, and so do I. Mine is easy to live with, what there is of it, and when it shows up, it pokes me in the ribs.

My conscious comes in the form of TLW, (The Little Woman), who sets my standards of consciousness and awareness every morning before she leaves for work. By adjusting my guilt level, ratcheting up my conscious, and making me feel responsible for myself, I’ve become a well-tuned machine.

For instance, diet. She says I can eat anything I want. Then she asks the question: “When is your next doctor’s appointment?” I have a little stash of mint flavored jelly candies that I love, and keep hidden from TLW. Not because she will eat them, but because when I do, I see her face in front of me. Yes, she has taken over from my Mother. I think when I married, Mom passed on all her notes, and the transition has become seamless.

I know you are thinking: “Well, you ARE a big boy!” No, I’m not.

Not when it comes to those candies, cream filled Dunkin Donuts and sesame seeded bagels with cream cheese.

TLW just had to lose a lot of weight, keep it off, and when people see her after a while says: “Wow, did you lose weight?” No, we are still married. They see me and say: ”Wow, did she lose weight?” I just bounce my head up and down and say: “Yes.”

Well, gotta go, my bagel needs a few more bites.