I Hate Me

“Stop it!”

“Why? What’s wrong?” I asked the lady who was fuming at me.

“I don’t like it when that thing is pointing at me.”

“It’s your birthday!” I felt like I was talking logic to someone who wasn’t being logical.

“Just put it away!” she said, still full of angst over me filming her with my camera.

“Fine.” I said, putting the phone back to my pocket. I grabbed a drink and walked out of what was supposed to be the place for party, and went for some peace in balcony. I felt for the box of cigarettes that were in the same pocket as my phone, and took it out. I flipped open the cover, and pulled a piece of sweet cancer out from the box and put it to my lips before lighting it with my trusty Zippo lighter that had been with me through life and death years back in Baghdad.

I inhaled the smoke deep into my lungs, and blew it out into the air, only to have it came back with the wind and hitting on my face. I put the glass of fruit-punch to my mouth and took a sip. Then I felt a wrap around my waist.

“Sorry, honey.”

It was my wife, the lady who was shouting at me earlier for a video shoot that I attempted to make. I turned my head around, and there she was, laying her head on my back.

“I didn’t mean to overreact….” She tried to explain.

“Baby,” I lifted my elbows off the parapet, and turned my body to her. Hugging her by her waist, I looked into her eyes and said, “I was just trying to record your laughs, and your smiles. You know, for keepsake.”

“I know…” She looked down with an expression that showed she was guilty. “I’m happy to know that you are still the old you, sweet and all. But…”

“But what?” I asked.

“I’m not me anymore.”

“What do you mean by that?” It was a baffling sentence I heard.

“I’m not…I don’t like it.” She seemed to have difficulty telling me what was on her mind. “I hate me; I can’t stand me.”

“Baby.” I put my hands on her shoulders, slouched to meet my eyes with hers, and said, “Tell me what do you mean by that.”

“I don’t feel sexy anymore. I just…I wished that I’ll go back to the old me. Young, slim, and energetic. Now I feel tired; I feel disgusting. I don’t like to look at myself anymore. No more full length mirrors; no more bare-shoulders. I feel just so fleshy and I hate it.”

“But I love it.” I said.

“You don’t understand. You are still as young…and fit. But look at me. I’m like a piece of pork walking around a hunk.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke.

“Look.” I said to her, still looking into her eyes, “You may think that you are fat, and in your mind you think you are disgusting. By all means go do something about it. Slim down, work out, or diet. Whatever. But when you do slim down, remember, I’m going to bang that fat chick working in the café across the road.”

“Don’t you dare.” She looked up and gave me a pinch at my waist.

“Sure I’ll dare. I think I have the qualities to, and I give you my word that I will, if you have the audacity to take away this fat woman that I love.” I said, stroking her head. “I love you, for who you are and what you are. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day to be the husband of this plump woman in my arms right now.”

“So you’ve been hiding your fancy all along?” She was finally smiling.

“It has evolved through the years of our marriage.” I said confidently with my signature smile. “So in a way, it’s safe to say ‘yes’.”

“I love you honey.” She pulled me towards her, and hugged me by my waist and rested her head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her neck, and gave the woman of my life the tightest hug I could ever give.

“I love you too, baby.”


41c1d-originalAndy Lawson is the average man on the street that you’ll not even trouble yourself looking at him if he passes by you. He’s sensitive to bullshit, and he hates mediocrity in most people. He is the author of his self-published book: Facts and Fiction of Fengshui: Facts that Masters are NOT Telling You. He doesn’t have Facebook or Twitter, because he hates to be associated with people who tend to be passive-aggressive online, but he does have a very limited set of vocabularies, terrible grammar, a twisted mind that makes himself God in his own twisted world and an ability to communicate with people who wish to be his friend.




11 responses to “I Hate Me

  1. Pingback: Hear Me Roar | TyroCharm·

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