My weakness surrounds me like a force field. My family used to moan that I never lifted a finger to help around the house until medical experts backed me up: my fingers (and other parts) really are very heavy for me.
I am literally bone idle. I aspire to puniness.
My carers bring me what I need and remove what I don’t, and I flex my most exercised muscles to show gratitude, if they’re looking at me.
Sometimes, lying here, I daydream about joining the circus. I could be a double-act with the Strong Man – the Weak Woman. Flat on my back, struggling to keep a downy feather afloat above my lips with puff after effortful puff. I don’t imagine it would be much of a draw, but the image amuses me. I find my lips making circles, unconsciously.
Roll up, roll up.
Feather weight champion of the world.