“You do not have consumption you feeble woman. The only consumption you have is when you consume your body weight in chocolate. Even elephants have less body mass index than you do…although not baby elephants. They probably weigh the same size as you…but with much smaller posteriors”.
“You know what? I’m probably going to blog about this later and I don’t appreciate all the sly digs about my weight. I’m not even fat. Yes, my booty is a tad on the plump side and yes, I do have a liitle underarm batwing and yes, I am a little top heavy in the breasticle department but that hardly constitutes as being fat. If anything, I’m curvaceous and every curve is in it’s right place.”
“I’ve had enough of all your insults, you stain on the bed-sheet of humanity. Refrain from your disparaging remarks and away with you at once. Shit! I’m beginning to sound like you! This talking like a Victorian gent crap is becoming catchy. I must be sicker than I thought”.
So, it turns out that I wasn’t suffering from consumption after all. Just the result of my Chronic Fatigue. Still, I could have had consumption. I hear it’s back in vogue now and I’ve always been an ‘old school’ kinda woman. If it ain’t an 18th century disease, then I’m not succumbing to it. Just waiting for the Black Death to make a reappearance and then I’ll be the talk of the town…literally.