A Horror of Fat

(The picture above is of  Rosita, the ShowGirl Pig of the Movie SING)

The religious community that owns the building I live in has moved on and they sold our building. So after more than two decades in the same place, it is time to move on. I must find a new dwelling. 

An austere religious order makes many demands that the real world is not concerned with. Management did not allow us to prepare another meal if we did not like the meal offered. There was a fridge to put in meals if you worked or had the medication but only that. two very vocal residents fiercely guarded The fridge and its cotenants. So rather than get in trouble I did not put any food in the refrigerator. I ate what they served. Sometimes it was good. Sometimes, well, it was simple. It was so simple that finally, the lab results came back from the hospital. The medical team told me clearly to make some meals myself. They also cleared it with the management of my home. This must have taken some work.

Someone cleared out some room in the refrigerator. And there is a couple of microwaves. So, with the ingredients, the residence provides stuff at meals I make do. the doctor says (last time I saw him which was a while ago) I am dying. Certainly, when I look at my body in the mirror, I see a horror of fat. The receptionist at the entrance says that if I stay here there is no one to take care of me. So, it is time to move on, I guess. But another thing the community did not approve of was someone in the residence having a normal sum of money to live on when they leave. So now I am up the proverbial creek without a paddle. Once more, the future is uncertain. Once more I am facing homelessness.

The going phrase for someone in my situation is: Well, you come from somewhere. You did not live here your whole life. Where you come from, you just go back to. Another thing the community did not concert itself within the present residence I live in, is the very mortal happening of severe beatings and medical attention. They felt that the endurance of pain was a necessary condition of the people who like me, came to live in. Having had a lot of casual attacks in the place I came from, I stayed anyway.