Heidi in Real Life

Hello.   I’m a dignified 8-year-old Corgi named Freya.   I am Krista’s dog, and I adore her.   But on Fridays, Krista goes God-knows-where and leaves me home with “grandma” (her word, not mine).   Grandma calls it “Fridays with Freya” and it’s special spoiling time for the two of us.   Ugh. Grandma talks to me only in the world’s highest possible squeaky voice, asking me questions that I’m supposed to answer.   Here’s an example: “Who’s the best puppy? Say “I am!””   I’m especially annoyed when she asks me open-ended questions, like, “What do you think?”   I’m middle-aged, I don’t have time for this baby-talk nonsense.   There are times when Grandma leaves me alone at home.   I am totally fine with the peace and quiet of being alone (I’m very mature).   But, because I’m a rascal, I hang my head low when she comes back, and barely move.   She sits down with me, pets me and then I roll over for a belly rub.   If she tr...

I start to write, “SDF seeking NG (nice guy) who….”  and then my hand cramps. I’m tempted to se nd out signals to someone who is embodies the complete opposite of the men I’ve been attracted to (and married) in the past.  That would mean I’d be looking for a poor, stupid, short, stocky, blind man with an organ-grinding monkey, who hates kids and dogs.  Not that there’s anything wrong with blind men. How would that read?   SDF seeking PSSS-BM w/OGM-HKD. My criteria has seriously changed over the years.   I might be seeking someone to be my Euchre partner who likes quiet nights AND who goes where he belongs at night (or when I’m tired, which ever happens first).   When I say the evening is over, you gotta get up outta here. It’s been 31 years since I went on a first date.   Back then, I was looking for someone who sparked my interest.   Now, my pilot light is so dim now—a spark might incinerate me!   It’s funny what ceases to be i...

The fur is really flying in Springfield, OH, as citizens, interested parties and especially pets of voters are enraged and taking it to the streets this election eve.   Many of the pets are out on the front lawn with signs: “The Haitians were GREETING us, not EATING us!” Haitian immigrants can be seen outside too, hugging the cats, dogs and hamsters… and not in a creepy way .    Pets of all size and shape think they can influence the outcome of this election.   Forget about Iowa, folks.     Where the atrocities of false rumors have been spread, they must be addressed and avenged.    “The Haitians have come here due to our low cost of living and plentiful jobs,” said Fido, a mutt, “and they’re friendly to us.   They eat mainly starch anyway, not meat.   Be afraid if you’re a navy bean!” “Yeah, I saw a bald eagle flying around the other day.   Now, they will eat us!” said Rufus the hedgehog, shivering. Donald Trump, lured...

Air- Sweet Air Losing weight rapidly on Mounjaro® has made it so I can finally breathe at night.  This is may be the best result of my weight loss journey.   6 months ago, I was struggling with breathing, mostly because my neck-fat and my large, floppy boobs were strangling me.  I can’t speak for other’s sleep disorders, but mine was completely fat-related.  In the back of my mind, I feared having to strap on a CPAP in the future. My ex-husband, Hyde, had a tiny, baby-sized mouth and the tongue of Jabba the Hutt .   I don’t know how he could even talk .   In 1993, when I started dating him, he had a Model A version of a CPAP.    Model A consisted of a thick, wide hose and a little hat (for his head) to keep the nose-hose in place.   In the shadows of the night, the hose looked like a long, flaccid proboscis that I was hoping was not meant for foreplay. “Hyde, can you take that thing off before we have sex?” “Haaaaaaaah.  Haaaaaa...

Pancreas Bitch-Slapping Mounjaro ® is mostly responsible for my pancreas being kicked into modified submission.   To my endless joy, I no longer need to take Insulin.   My A1C is down to 6.1 and I’m only monitoring my blood sugar. Additionally,   I have no more back pain, and my sciatica has been tamed like a lion with a chair.   I have a lot more energy and I don’t think of things in terms of places to sit anymore. Thanks, Mounjaro! Hairnado! Hair loss is possible with fast weight loss (your experience may vary). The first time I noticed it, I was sent a picture of me in a group shot and I swear my forehead looked bigger. Think Casper the Friendly Ghost.   I blamed it on a lighting problem.   Next couple of months, my bathroom sink wouldn’t drain.   I plunged it out and a major clump of black, slimy hair emerged   “Huh?   How long has that been there?” Not even denying it —just plainly not seeing the truth. A week later, I dr...

  Part 1  -  (your experience may vary) I am a card-carrying fat person.   Fat is in my DNA.  I’ve struggled all my life.  I love food.  My favorite hobby was Sheet-caking. I’m almost 60 years old and I’ve tried almost everything to get thin.  I have Diabetes Type 2 and my doctor approved me for a weekly injectable weight loss drug- Mounjaro®.  My first shot was April 4 th , 2024. A little Ecstasy first: Exit Stage Left About 5 minutes after I gave myself a shot (the needle is tiny and doesn’t hurt at all)—I lost my appetite.  Almost immediately, my body got rid of anything that it had been holding inside it--Earth, Wind, Fire and Water  I burped more times that you can ever imagine.  4 days of this, and then I felt fine.  Not hungry.  Not thinking about food.  And so the journey began—The Deflation of Ms. Heidi. Nothing prepared me for how easy the weight fell off.  Mounjaro is a miracl...