It's hard to imagine those tiny arms we all used to have; that upper section without the swing…and the memory of having long legs in my youth - I think the rest of my body fell, or slid, down and stole almost a foot from my thighs! I find myself ogling ornaments in shop windows - I always wanted to be a fairy. Sharp elbows and knees were once a part of me and would've looked fabulous in any enchanted wood, but even little folk must grow.
What happens to fairies when they're 40? Do they balloon and swell too? Can their wings still carry them or do they have to join Weight-watchers? I mean, they'd have to do something wouldn't they? A life with redundant wings, however pretty, and the worry of tatters through neglect must be traumatic. If it was me I'd consider amputation - desperate measures but I'd rather be grounded and happy than spend an eternity in the air, flitting between diets. It's too late for me but you can save yourselves:
increase Serotonin levels in the brain by taking 5-HTP supplements; include more water-rich, low-calorie foods like fruit, vegetables and soup; fidget, a lot to burn calories; exercise an hour after eating, it releases hormones that can suppress appetite; take 30 minutes exercise five times a week; a 20 minute break between 2 x 30 min exercise bouts burns more fat; short bursts of vigorous exercise and short breaks burns off more calories; run at a moderate pace for 5 minutes then speed for 2 min before slowing down again; do a physical activity in a normal routine, like stand on one leg to brush your teeth; the herb Hoodia, dampens appetite.
I'm passing the baton; you all must have handy hints in the closets of your minds - get them off the shelves and take a good look; otherwise that dark corner will leak out, come creeping after you with tentacles of Type2 Diabetes, clogged arteries and stroke you to death. Maybe it's not too late; we could be softer versions without wings, graceful and secretive, flitting about new routines, exercising our minds and imaginations instead of putting everything off till that tomorrow that might never come. Even I could drag myself into 5 minutes exercise; I haven't yet but I might.
