I officially put my bra on like an old lady this morning.
Sitting on the bed. Hooking the bra. Then stepping into it. Pulling it up. Shaking it all in.
God. I have aged, like, fifty years since the election. I should start calculating my age in trumpyears. Fifty to one. I'm 112 since January. And not a spry 112.
My current fitness goal is simply to be able to step into my underpants without falling over. I have, so far, achieved very limited success in this endeavor. To see me in silhouette through the curtains - as my neighbors can - it must look as if I am wrestling a lion in my bedroom every morning. And losing.
This administration is going to kill me. Literally, perhaps. Or, at the very least, throw me in jail.
I have a feeling my lifelong dreams of building our commune, Yurtopia, are going to be realized. Only, in GTMO instead of Mendocino.
I'll need to alter my paradigm a bit. Pass the bong.
Okay, now dig it:
All of us on one big piece of land, sharing communal meals, doing each other's laundry, sitting in the sun out on the big yard, working in the library, showering together like in the old days. And just last summer we all actually discussed taking a trip to Cuba together. We hadn't thought about traveling by bus, but I'm cool. Not a fan of flying, anyway. I hope we can stop at the National Parks. Badlands, specifically. I want to kiss my heroes.
Oh wait. They'll already be at GTMO. Awesome!
I intend to take advantage of my time in prison to finally commit to a diet and exercise program. Finally, no distractions from my job, political activism, online shopping or freedom. Instead of fighting for justice, I'm going to fight for my abs. I've seen the orange jumpsuits. They nip in at the waist. It's not a good look for us apple-shaped political prisoners.
And when I get out - thanks to a pardon by President Kamala Harris - I'm going to be all cut and ripped and shit. I'll go home, kiss Robin (who has been taking care of the dogs because he pulled the short straw between one of us going to prison and one of us trying get Louie on a leash), and continue to work for justice. Because even with President Harris and co-VP's Samantha Bee and Justin Trudeau, there will still be work to be done.
But first, I will put on my bra the youthful twist-around way and literally jump into my underpants.