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.