I threw away my scale when I lost over 85 pounds.
It became too extra depressing to keep track of.
My water runs clear, but weakly.
As I tremble before the trifold mirror, I can barely maintain the energy to stand. I lift my eyes to the image that has dwindled away to bone, and I know I must prepare.
I have shorn my head. I have shorn my frail body. The hair on my face I wear with pride.
This I have done to make myself ready for what is to come.
There will either be a coronation, or a funeral.