My sins, my sins, why have you forsaken me?
I love the seven deadly sins. I mean, what’s a good life without gluttony and sloth and a little envy?
Except, right now, the seven big ones don’t love me. Sad, but true.
I’m not opposed to wrath, I’m just not really pissed off at anyone, and, as I get older, I’m finding it harder and harder to hold a grudge. I guess I’m just not as determined as I used to be. Now, when someone really ticks me off, I’m mad for maybe a day or two (if that), before I just simply… lose interest. Maybe my attention span is not what it used to be–I’ll blame modern media. Hey, everyone else does.
I’d like more money, and a house not on a major thorough fare, but if I never get those things, I’ll survive just fine. Again, I’ve got so much going on, I’ve kind of lost interest in envy. Sometimes I’m jealous of what other people have; for instance, I’d like to have the money to be able to stay home (not that I would, because, well, I like to work. That, and if I did stay home, my husband would actually expect the house to be clean, and of all the things I’m good at, housekeeping is NOT one of them… Just ask the ginormous pile of laundry on the landing just waiting to be washed… It’s calling my name, and I am pointedly ignoring it).
I think you have to have money for this one. Also, I’m pretty generous–when I feel like it. Actually, I think I suffer from Envy more than I do from Greed.
I’m chunky. I’ve got scars all over my belly (keg-style that it is). And the wrinkle between my brows just won’t go away. I’d Botox it away, but that would take effort on my part–and if I did Botox myself, the way my luck has been running, I’d come out looking like the joker… or, I’d randomly grow a set of testicles. It would be something bizarre, where the doctor would say, “Gee, we don’t know why that happened.” So much for vanity, right? I mean, I suppose you could make an argument that I do have some degree of vanity because Miss Clairol and I are very well acquainted, and I do wax the unibrow so now I actually have two brows… I’ll have to think about that.
Oh, sloth, how I love you. In my younger years, I could stay in bed all day (though is it sloth if there’s also lust involved? Hmmm). Now, there’s kids and dogs and soccer practice, the church newsletter to write, the book and the blog, not to mention the full-time job. Yes, my house looks like a bomb went off in it (so does the car, filled as it is with kid artwork, empty water bottles, and some unknown substance that randomly makes my car stinky… I think I’ve got a science experiment back there).
Thirteen years ago, when I got married, my current pace would have killed me. Not now. Now I can make it with less than five hours of sleep… I’m not happy about it, but I can make it. So, sloth, in my quest to become a writer, I have now forsaken you. Sorry. But know, you are sorely missed.
I don’t look this way because I spent years eating nothing but rabbit food. Cake and pie and ice cream. A medium-rare filet mignon. Pizza. Oh, how I love these things.
Unfortunately, I can no longer eat these things.
After years of eating eggs, I am now officially allergic to them. Goodbye cake and ice cream, so long sweet creme brulee and delicate chocolate mousse. I am also allergic to beef. Goodbye, tender filet, adios greasy bleu cheese burger. And, in their quest to fix my stomach, my doctors have now managed to make it so that all things delicious (e.g., containing fat) now make me so wretchedly sick that there’s no point in eating them anymore. And what things don’t make me sick, you may ask. Well, here it is: broccoli, a plain potato, plain chicken. Brussel sprouts. I actually like brussel sprouts, but not as much as I adored a nice filet and creme brulee.
Oh, and gluttony, you bastard, the only vice I had remaining–alcohol–has now been removed also. Like everything else, it makes me sick before I can even get a decent buzz on.
I miss gluttony so much I would find a way to smoke it, drink it and/or eat it if I ran into it on the road. Unfortunately, I would then have to throw up.
Kids. Book. Blog. Work. Enough said.
However, lust, you are still, by far, my favorite. After all, you are a central theme in my books. I love lust (and your other name: fornication). As with my other forays into sin, you and I were better acquainted in my younger days (see: Sloth). However, I’ve learned that I can actually go longer without food than I can without sex. Hey, there’s a reason I’ve been with the same man for fourteen years.