Had I lived in Days of Yore....or, a Cheeto, a Cheeto, my Kingdom for a Cheeto

If I had been a fair maiden when the civilized earth was but an adolescent I would have played upon my Rote (a medieval stringed instrument played by plucking) and sang songs of forbidden and unrequited love. I would have pouted about by lipid pools and languished for the want of a knight to rescue me from a life of "fair maidenness.”

I would have dreamed of being a pub wench and serving grog to sailors. I would try to imagine myself as a swashbuckling female pirate dressed in red brocade with thigh-high boots of glistening black leather with silver buckles. I would envision me riding a white stallion o’er hill and dale with my raven black hair blowing in the wind to meet a tall handsome lover in the nethermost part of the most-dense woods beyond the city wall. I would see myself sitting tall on the monarch’s throne with a crown of rubies on my palest of pale blonde curls while sentinels with golden swords stood guard near by and servants waiting to cater to my every whim.

But alas, and alas, I am not a fair maiden and these are not the days of yore. I have not a
Rote (unless you wish to rename my Compaq) upon which to pluck and no lipid pool by which to pout or to languish….but I still wish for someone to rescue me—so, I suppose we can keep the lanquishing part…

In my days of now, I am still dieting and walking. My caffeine habit has been overcome. I no longer have to say the Soda Pop Creed (See earlier post A Jam Sandwich and a Pine Float)…..but in the back of my mind somewhere in a barren, desolate vale of nutrition my heart cries out….a Cheeto, a Cheeto, my kingdom for a Cheeto. Gosh, I love those crunchy, orange bites of absolute junk food! When I was a mail carrier….many were the pieces of mail that were delivered with orange “Cheeto Tracks” on them. But alas, and alas (people said that a lot back in the days of yore) I have had to swear off Cheetos, Gummy Bears, Rolos, and assorted other good-to-you/bad-for-your-belly-fat foods.

By August I shall be but a mere shadow of the girl I now am. My thin body will flow like water as I walk and an almost inaudible sound of rustling heather will follow my foot steps. The tiniest fragrance of Honey Suckle will caress the air as I pass. All heads will turn to see the magnificence of me…..I shall periodically stop and sigh with the most feminine of sighs to allow the onlooker to partake of the beauty and burn the breath-taking image into the inner recesses of their minds. (Remember in what I majored in the “School of Hard Knocks” --See my profile article…In the beginning God created…And do not say I did not warn you.) All will be well in the world and all God’s Children will have bread. Except for me—I will be clinging to one orange morsel…never to be consumed in this lifetime…a morsel to remind me of how far I have come since my days of leaving Cheeto tracks on people’s mail as I delivered letters being in the company of one cool Cheetah.

So alas, and adieu my dear friends….until another day, another time when once again you will ride with me as the wind blows our sideburns against our ears as we follow the golden trail of cheesy goodness into another realm of absolute madness and merriment.