Not crazy just unwell
Long covid or whatever this is continues to kick my ass.
Also “whatever this is” could easily be “this is the one-year anniversary of losing my mom and I am unwell mentally as much as physically.”
So I identified organizing photos as a couch-friendly activity.
I asked the AI to group all photos it believes is Wobin.
Wobin.
That said, I cannot tell you how many photos of me got into that batch.
And honestly, I look most like her in those photos.
Not Wobin.
A long time ago, I’d called myself fatass (I always called myself that). But it was the first time Mom had heard me do it.
And she’d said if you think you’re fat, what must you think about me.
I am sure I wrote about it. Maybe my no-good researcher who’s memorized my every utterance can point me toward that post.
In any event, I thought about what Mom said. But updated for 2025, how I could never call myself anything less than beautiful.
Because for as much as I look like her, calling myself anything other than stunning would be an insult to her.
And she’s very clearly the most beautiful person, inside and out, who ever graced this planet.
No wonder all her “friends” were so jealous of her. Talk about ugly inside and out.