Daka's Progress

A few weeks after I got here, and after giving me a particularly large pile of sauerkraut at dinner, Daka confided in me that she planned on sending me home with curves.

Update on Daka's Progress:

Despite all her attempts to fatten me up and give me some good child-bearing curves, she is not succeeding. Every night at dinner I feel like I'm at the State Fair because of all the fried food--they give me weiner schnitzel, chicken schnitzel, sausage schnitzel, fried zucchini, fried cauliflower, and, my Achilles' Heel, POTATOES of all wonderful and glorious kinds--but in spite of all this, somehow I seem to be losing finger fat.

For my eighteenth birthday, my parents got me a ring--the stone is a blue opal (my birth stone as well as my zodiac stone, whatever those are called) set in white gold. It's very pretty and when I got it, it fit. I have been having problems with it of late. It twists around on my finger, it moves up and down my finger, and, if it gets cold enough (my fingers get thinner when it's cold, I guess) it has the nasty habit of flying off. This happened while in line at the Reichstag over the weekend.

It could just be a flukey thing. Maybe I never noticed that it didn't fit me all that well. EXCEPT, while in Ireland this summer, I bought myself a Cladagh ring, sometimes known as the Irish wedding ring. This ring was a great purchase and, because the style of it was so different from the others, there was only one size of it. It was a bit snug, but with some tugging the ring would come off unless my fingers were swelled from heat. I have since quit wearing the ring because of some technical difficulties with it, but after trying it on five minutes ago, I realize that the snugness is gone. While it still fits me closer than the other ring, it comes off too easily, though still not the loose cannon the other ring is.

From deductive reasoning, and because of these two occurrences, I have come to believe that Daka's plan is failing. I cannot be sure, however. It is entirely possible that all of my former finger fat is migrating to my hips, thus making me curvier. But when it comes to seeing whether or not Daka has managed to put more meat on me, I am unable to determine this. There is a scale in the bathroom of the house. Before I left, though, I never weighed myself in kilograms. 60 kilograms, despite being how much I weigh, according to their scale, is a meaningless number to me. I don't know how much it is.

Therefore, I can only conclude that Daka's plan has not yet come to fruition, and that I rapidly losing my finger fat.