A while back we went to a Japanese restaurant, one of those places where you sit around a grill while a chef wields an extremely sharp knife in front of your face. I ordered a diet soda and it arrived with an itty bitty monkey perched on the side of the glass. No cute umbrellas for me; I got a plastic monkey. I took it off and played with it on Bill’s shoulder (much to his amusement) and then continued watching my life pass in front of me each time the chef waved his sword, flourishing it in victory every time he successfully flipped a shrimp.
My second diet soda came with a monkey of a different color. Same size and shape, still holding onto the rim of that glass for dear life, but in an alternate hue. I picked him up, thereby saving him from learning how to swim in bubbles, and placed him next to his buddy. Then, like the total loon I am, I played with both of them on Bill’s shoulder (much to his annoyance this time).
But then I realized something. Two monkeys. I have two monkeys on my back: weight and chronic pain. I’m changing them to lemurs because a monkey on one’s back sounds a bit like I’ve been visiting Walter White plus lemurs are way cooler than monkeys. My apologies to all monkey lovers. All animal lovers are welcome here at the Ever Onward blog.
Anyway, my two lemurs, each perched on one of my shoulders, are both highly annoying little guys. The right lemur is my pain guy. He never leaves and never stops his relentless quest to ruin my life. He just sits there, clawing at my neck, knocking on my head, and laughing each time I see yet another medical professional. He’s kind of a jerk, that one.
The other lemur, my weight guy, has severe ADD. He will run around like a whackadoo, stop, then laser focus in on losing weight. And lemur eyes, when they want to be, are seriously focused. Day after day this lemur will focus until he is a thin lemur, then he will walk around with his gorgeous ring tail held high in the air while all the other lemurs stop and admire him. Then something diverts his attention and he will sit, throw his little front paws back, bask in the sun for a while (as lemurs are known to do), and then forget to refocus. Then he will eat, not fruit and greens, but brownies and Nutella and French fries and pizza. And he will regain his weight. Up and down, back and forth, this cycle continues. Clothing size up, clothing size down. Focus, unfocus.
Here’s the thing, though: I adore lemurs and I would love to have some around, illegal as that may be. But these two? These two have got to go. Straight back to Madagascar where they will be happy among the other lemurs. They may be cute, but I don’t want them in my life any more.