January 2019 has come and gone. February is here, smirking at my door step, holding up my list of to do’s and goals. The paper has a bit of rice stuck on the edges, along with some makeup smudges and wrinkles. January is standing behind her, bedraggled, dressed in a suit and talking into a cell phone. A candy cane is hanging from his left ear and a bit of New Year’s confetti is still in his bangs. An Uber pulls up and away he goes until next year.
“Say, author,” February asks, still holding the list and standing on my front porch in stilletos. “When are you going to edit your short story your editor got back to you about, oh…six weeks ago? And isn’t your writing room done yet? And when exactly are you going to get on your exercise schedule, huh?”
She bats her eyelashes and tosses back a red curl. I’m debating between a good old fashioned door slam or a Tae Kwon Do front kick while she continues her babbling.
“This list isn’t going to complete itself you know. Chip, chop. And when’s the last time you actually did some cardio? Looking a little pudgy, aren’t we…?”
It’s times like these when I call upon my trusty sidekick. Some may call it self confidence. Others may say it’s healthy boundary setting and self esteem.
I call mine…Mr. Swinebottom.
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