Be careful what you wish for

I was in my 40s. My daughter was almost grown, I was having relationship problems, and I wanted to be liked. There's nothing weird about that. I've never been religious in the true sense of the word. But I suspected that heaven and earth were a little different than what we were taught in school. I always went my own way and made a lot of mistakes. You learn by making mistakes, and I was learning intensely.

After a while, I understood that I also had my guardian angels and tried to communicate with them. We had a sign we had arranged together. When they were "in reception" they tickled me on the top left side of my head. It was like someone blowing in your hair.

I asked them for a lot of things. The stumbling block, however, was that I had no idea how to do it properly. How important it is to define your request precisely and in detail. Everything came true. Just rarely in the way I imagined. I'm not going to list all my crazy wishes here, but I will share one that has been coming true for many, many years.

As I wrote, I wanted to be pretty, so I asked my good and selfless guardian angels if they would be kind enough to help me stay thin. Not that I had any weight problem at the time, but it just came to me all of a sudden. Great idea. I won't have to watch myself and everything will work itself out. Basically, without me having to do anything. Except. I sort of forgot to include that little thing in my wish. I mean, the wish itself was pretty crazy. But I made it, and my darling little darlings fulfilled it, and they still do.

 Only in their own way.

Since then, whenever I mentally complain that I've gained weight, I catch some moribundus. I get sick, fevers, can't eat, everything goes right out and I desperately wonder when it will finally pass. You guess right, I'm getting my wish again. For the twentieth year.

It dawned on me a week ago, when I was enjoying yet another weight-loss treatment. Thirty-nine weeks, four days of not being able to ingest anything, and even now I'm praying that what I'm going through isn't pneumonia because I really don't want antibiotics.

So I'm back to being thin as a stick and my lungs are squeaking like old pendulums. I just hope that since I've lost so much weight "into my swimsuit" that I won't gain weight again before summer. Next time I'll have to either time it better or simply not eat.

I almost forgot. Thank you, little angels.