I’ve had my surgical shower, my last pre-surgical drink, and my bag is packed and by the door. I am ready.

Today is an important day. I’m on the threshold of a new beginning. I can’t wait to get started. Someday, not so very long from now, I’ll be able to say, “I was heavy.” Instead of, “I was thin.” I’ll be able to do things that were hard much more easily. I won’t worry about my health.

I’ll visit old workplaces and people won’t even recognize me. Well, not Hutchinson, they’d throw me out. They’re not nice to former employees who come back to visit, especially not if they’re me.

Hondamort is extremely territorial and doesn’t like old workers showing up, anyway, but if I went in there?

I gave her and that detestable fiancée a sympathy card. With personalized notes. I didn’t expect anything in return, but at least have some common decency. Well, I guess that is expecting something in return, though, isn’t it.

I don’t think I ever expected so much as hoped.

That’s fine. Let them. Let them judge and be rude. Let them trample my efforts. They’re the problem; not me.

I have to do dishes again but I forget why. Vision blurry from tr as dermal patch behind my ear.

Eyes crossing. You know what that means.