INTERVIEW WITH MYSELF
Imagine writing to yourself. What would you say? What questions would you ask? Would you be all high brow with philosophical questions and scientific facts, or just mundane like me? Come with me on my journey of Self and let’s find out what’s happening in this fabulous body of mine.
Today I have the pleasure of interviewing myself, finding out who I am and what defines me. Will it really be pleasure, or will it end in tears? Being inside my own head is claustrophobic at the best of times, random thoughts and ‘to do lists’ vying with each other for attention. Now, random thoughts are great as they encourage me to write blogs. Words and ideas fly around my mind like mad bats, so let’s take a ride on the wild side.
It’s time I had a conversation with my body. All the different bits, mental and physical, that allow me to function have never been audited, and my inbox is overflowing with ‘must read that sometime’ or ‘must do that’. Time to find out what’s going on. If I had any sense, I’d plead the 5th amendment.
I’m going to chat to a few bits of myself, so you carry on doing whatever it was you were doing and ignore me – like you usually do. Anyway, all my bits generally work okay and interact nicely with each other, with the occasional bit of flak and arguments. But there’s a few who need hauling over hot coals and told to behave.
TOP MIDDLE AND BOTTOM
My body is the only thing I own mortgage free. It effectively has a top, middle and bottom, not strictly in that order depending on what gymnastics I’m doing, especially adapted for my age. Now that surprised ye. I can shamble. I can trudge. I can tango and tangle. My feet can go in opposite directions, and I can rumba with the best of ye. Make of that what you will.
I can flounce and bounce down the road hands free. Phone in one hand and bottle of water in the other. Rubber lips jabbering on the phone sixteen to the dozen. Eyes akimbo as well as arms. Tóin san aer – as we say in Irish. A slash of lipstick and I’m off.
Confidentially – between you, me and the gatepost and whoever is standing at the gatepost, this interview is top-secret. Hello magazine offered a few quid, but I want none of that paparazzi stuff or Facebook social media malarkey so you can all snigger at me. Unless you give me tons of likes and loves and wows, I’m not sharing. So there! And I may even unfriend you.
BRAIN : That title infers I’m sick. Are you being insulting?
ME: I wouldn’t dare. I need you more than I need chocolate.
BRAIN: Really? What’s that on your posterior and hips? Looks suspiciously like chocolate overload to me.
ME: Ah, don’t be mean.
BRAIN: Shame you’re not mean about your food intake. I’m fed up trying to teach you about nutritional health.
ME: I thought we agreed there would be no slanging matches.
BRAIN: A bit of banter hurt no-one. So, what do you want to know?
ME: Is it true your IQ is above 200?
BRAIN: It was, but then I got attached to you and now I’m well below average.
ME: You’re such a cockalorum. I’m off.
BRAIN: Smells like it.
ME: Legs, I’ve only got one question for you. Why do you keep letting me down and throwing me into ditches when I’m not looking. Why aren’t you long, gorgeous and toned?
LEGS: That’s three questions. I have the right to remain silent.
ME: Really? And do you also have the right to walk me in the wrong direction?
LEGS: If your brain was functioning properly then I would get the message.
BRAIN: Oy! I heard that. I’ll shut you all down.
ME: Feet, I demand to know why you invited your cousin, Bunion, to live with you. He’s a gross protuberance and downright painful. And please tell my left foot that we’re heading west not east.
FEET: I was lonely. Corns are so boring, but my cousin Bunion is a right joker, and we have lots of fun.
ME: At my expense no doubt. No worries, I’ll evict him soon.
SEE NO EVIL HEAR NO EVIL
ME: Eyes would you stop looking at me so accusingly. I didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t my fault the mascara wand attacked you. I’m the eejit trying to make you look pretty and all the thanks I get is a swizzle-drizzle of gloop.
EYES: You and I will never see eye to eye, and for the record I do not need to be enhanced so stick your mascara elsewhere.
ME: Ears, can you hear me? (Silence.) Oy! Can you hear me? So, you’re another bit of me that’s taken the oath of silence. Why not the oath of hearing? I know you can hear me, but you pretend not to, or you deliberately mis-hear causing me great confusion and embarrassment. You’re useless and I thought you were my friend.
EARS: Ha Ha. Someone in your body has to have a laugh. I get great enjoyment out of messing up stuff you hear and listening to you say: ‘Didn’t catch that. Can you say that again? I’m a bit deaf. What did you say?’ You want to blame me, do you? BIG mistake. I’m in control and monitor everything you say, and then throw in a few sound effects to ensure you can’t hear anyone else properly. My lobes are aching from laughing. It’s great fun.
MIND OVER MATTER – NOT!
ME: Belly, are you sure you belong to me? I really think you’re attached to the wrong body. My belly is flat and toned with abs to die for. You on the other hand are flabby and floppy. You make me look like a beanbag on steroids with protuberances where they shouldn’t be. What have you got to say?
BELLY: I’m your reality, flabby though I may be. If you want toned abs as taut as violin strings, your brain can tell you what to do. I’m not responsible for your floppy bits. Next time you stuff your gob with cake and ice-cream think about how you’re hurting me by adding on kilo after kilo. I’m not invincible. Cop on willya.
ME: Hands what’s your problem? Why can’t you turn the taps on? Why can’t you open the tin of beans? Why can’t you open the medication bottle? Honestly, you’re useless and far from handy.
HANDS: I plead the fifth amendment.
ME: Mind, give me a break! Stop overloading my inbox with worry warts and trivia. You’re supposed to be cool, calm and collected and enable me to lead a serene life. What’s your problem?
MIND: Huh! If you didn’t spend so much time sighing, you’d be tuned into me. Stop moaning and get a life. You’re not my problem. Go away and let me sleep.
ME: Gut, why do you embarrass me so much? You’re a bloated balloon of contradictions – belching and releasing ‘air’ at in-opportune moments. You have no respect for me.
GUT: Stop feeding me wind-induced foods or connect me to wind powered electricity. At least someone would benefit from all your air exhalations and I’m being polite.
TIME TO GOOGLE
I’ve deliberately left out all the bits that annoy me – hips that spasm, bushy eyebrows which think they’re satellites, a chin that’s expanding daily and will soon meet my bosoms.
They all really annoy me and refuse to acknowledge that unless they behave, I will replace them.
I knew this interview was a bad idea. Every bit of me is in denial. I spent years looking after them all, and now they let me down and don’t support me in my quest to be the fabulous, fit, toned, and healthy creature that I really am.
They mock me. They laugh at me. They’re definitely in cahoots finding ways to thwart me in my quest to fitness and fabulosity. Wonder if I can trade them all in for more efficient bits? Time to Google and see what’s available on the world wide web.
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