Oh I tried.

.

.

Invited to an event.  A famous young lady was set to give a presentation.  Asked to attend.  But... a bit later in the day, yesterday.  Sometimes that makes a difference, sometimes not.  I was... favoring going.

So, yesterday, I showered.  As well, trimmed whiskers, then shaved as well.  Two very different things.  Brushed my teeth.  Then set the alarms, one for five, one for seven.  As well, I tried to get to bed earlier.  Did... get to bed earlier.

I heard the five alarm.  But knew I would not be able to wake then.  Turned it off, waiting for the seven alarm.  Never heard that.  I didn't wake until... 13:30.  So... right.  But I did try.  I did everything I could do, given the givens, on the times, at the time.  I... did try.

-----------

Finished replying to a comment.  Which... is causing my body to want food.  I don't have a lot possible, but I do have kippers.  Those will do, short term.  Though, perhaps later, fried eggs and corned beef hash.  Trying to put food in, but the body just... doesn't want to eat!  I do, sometimes, sort of.  But the digestive tract doesn't want anything in.  It... serves it well enough, when I do eat.  I don't even get nausea.  But... it... just doesn't want visitors.

It doesn't just sit in there.  It doesn't cause nausea.  It just doesn't want to deal with food.  Like a child who doesn't want to... do... something... anything.  Passive enough, when required.  But at the next opportunity will again refuse to perform, act, or such, as directed.

I would like to get packs of salmon, and other fish.  As well, sardines, but just in water and sea salt.  Who knows what that salt really is.  But it's better than "olive" oil, and certainly better than sunflower seed oil or others like it.  The only problem is... pure fish is tight.  I am trying to figure out how to create a dip for it.  The right sort of soy (it's fermented, the only good way to do soy, assuming it's non-gmo... not sure "organic" means anything except more expensive and just as likely fake), perhaps certain fish or oyster sauces (without sugar, and with some limits to salt).  Perhaps a few other things.

Does food have to be perfect?  Only if you want some return to health, after both illness and a long life of poor eating habits.  If you want a return to heath?  Then it's best to dig deep, and get it right.  At least for some period of time.  My goal is to get back to as close to pure carnivore as I can do.  And run that through for a few more months.  The trick is getting enough calories in.  Enough fat in.  Actually, I'm having as much trouble getting proteins in as I am getting fats in.  Bleh.  Actually, I can't even do carbs currently.  I'm just not hungry.

Brothers can be so cruel.  But... that never bothered me.  I just... want to know if he is right?  Right, something like that.  I don't mind the pain.

Oh, which reminds me.  While I told you about my first successful fight, against multiple opponents, I never told you about my first draw, and failure.  I only discuss them both because they are connected.  One led to the other.

The draw.  In third grade my mother was married.  We moved to a small Iowa town, Ruthven.  I had six siblings, two sisters and four brothers.  I was the baby, for good or ill.  Clumsy one, was growing like wild, about two inches a year.  Was taller than the tallest girls.  I... grew differently, as is my wont.  

In school, there was a pecking order.  I refused to be a part of it.  And, could and did defend my right to keep out of it.  Basically, all the boys in the class tried to put me in order.  And failed.  They couldn't beat me or break me, not the best, not the whole lot of them.  For a while that was allowed to stand.

Then, about two months in, six of the older brothers and friends of such, all sixth graders, decided to... manage this problem, manage me.  As I was heading home... we walked back then... I saw them coming.  I had some idea who some of them were, and that this didn't look good.  So I began hoofing it.  Running as fast as those tiny little third grade legs could spring.

Not a chance.  They caught up to me near the railroad tracks, about fifty yards from the edge of the schoolgrounds.  Then they started beating on me.  Oh, I tried to hit back.  But my tiny little arms simply couldn't reach.  Especially with so many foes.  And... they beat, and wailed, and punched.  On and on.

Finally, a teacher happened to notice, and after fifteen minutes, me down in a crouched position, covering my head with my arms, a teacher broke it up.  Not sure, but think they called my mom, and she picked me up?  Should have been, could have been, lethal?  Dunno.

All I know is I got a lot of sympathy.  Things at school chilled a LOT, including those in my class.  People began watching to make sure these things didn't happen again, or any fights were required to be fair... so they stopped wholehog.  Funny how cowardly most people really are.

My mother said I didn't have to go to school the next day.  I... simply asked why?  She said in case I was afraid.  I chuckled at her.  Literally.  I told her that if that was honestly as hard as they could hit, I had no fear.  They hit like pussies.  That last sentence, my friends, was verbatim.  Thank God, too.  But if that was truly as hard as they could hit, and I remember it well, I was never in danger.  Mom punished a hell of a lot harder.  No... not a whine, just a fact.  She had her reasons, and was good at it.  I take it "boys" of today cry when they get punched?  Meh.

Yes, I was remembering that.  Fifteen minutes, give or take five, of being pounded on and... it didn't damage me, or even hurt.  *grins*

-----------

Oh, and... I was thinking about the woman, in Charleston?  As I remember it, she thought I looked too... thin... young... maybe effeminate?  Still, I liked the silly cow, had a thing for her.  Finally, after several failed attempts at wooing her, I told her I ought to curl her.

Oh... she, being into body building, knew what I meant.  She just, I think, didn't think I could.  I really did look thin.  If at 6'4", and weighing 220 (probably then), I had a 31" waist and sixteen inch arms (sounds large, but not at my height).  Anyway, it was a busy night at the bar.  So she got on to other things, pretty much seeming to have blown me off.

A few weeks later I was there early.  As were two of her building buddies, gals.  In full season.  She wasn't lifting, competing anyway, that year.  But they certainly were.  The night hadn't really started yet.  She had a place arranged, for me to attempt my curl... of her.  She invited her friends to be there, in case I failed?  I just lifted an eyebrow and grinned a Cheshire cat grin at her.

She went to lay out, then planned to plank, is it?  So I could curl her with both arms.  I just laughed at her, and held out my right hand.  Probably could do it with the left, but that's my clumsy lifting arm, didn't want to screw this up.  She sat in my hand, with me seated, and I curled her right up, easily... thankfully.  Was nervous.  Kissed her about two inches down from her crotch, on her inner thigh.  Even her muscle kitty friends got a bit of a thrill at that.

Dating... was easy, after that.  Until... she went on her way.  I guess competition was just too strong of a pull.  But I'll bet she, and her friends, will never forget the "little boy" kiss that thrilled them all.  Yes... I... have lived a life.  Later.