Tick, Tick, Tick...

Often at night, when I feel like I can't watch TV anymore, eat anymore, drink anymore, I will shut everything off and listen. To nothing.

Except this one little clock I have, that ticks every second of every day, every minute and hour. Tick, tick, tick.

And then I start thinking about those ticks. What have I done today during the ticks I haven't thought about? Have I told someone I love them? Have I worked hard? Have I said to myself "you are the ugliest person I've ever seen in my whole life."

More than often the answer is yes. Yes, I tell people I love them. Yes, I've worked hard...at something at least. The hard part is the ugliest. The third one. Because yes, I still sometimes say that.

The thing is, I am beautiful. I have big breasts (that need a good bra), a curvy figure - even if it is plus sized - and a great personality. My legs are strong enough to walk and take a bike ride. My hair is full and colourful...even if it needs a bit of help. My hips are wide, but my waist is curvy. I can make people laugh. I can make myself laugh.  I can make people feel better if I am lucky.

I have a roof over my head, and even though it's crooked, a floor under my feet. My furnace works, barely, but it will make it through the winter (so I'm told). I have a good job. One that not only gives me food for me and my Rox, but one that gives me friends.

I have a family. A family who would do anything for me. I am loved. No matter what size I am.

So those ticks of the clock? They remind me of what I have. What I have forgotten I have. What I take my happy pills for.

I love my life. I love it.