Tell me folks honestly, bless your cotton socks, how many of you had a prayer routine as consistent as the rising sun, and almost as blindingly optimistic. Every single evening, kneeling beside your suspiciously threadbare armchair a relic you insisted was a “family heirloom of considerable sentimental value” you clasp your hands, close your eyes, and articulate your desires to the heavens with the earnestness of a child writing a letter to Santa. And it happens to be your twin requests, delivered with a conviction that could move mountains (or at least, a particularly stubborn remote control), were always the same: “Oh, Lord, grant me a good-looking, slim body and an everlasting, thick wallet.”
Now, is that being a bad fellow? And the powers to be was, is and are always a mentor, a sage, whose wisdom, was genuinely invaluable. Let say this divine powers helped countless folks navigate career crises, romantic blunders, and the existential dread of Tuesday afternoons. Not to mention the knack for making even the most dire situations seem surmountable. But when it comes to your own aspirations, especially those uttered to the Almighty, you seemed to be operating on a different wavelength entirely.
The universe, it appeared, had a rather twisted sense of humor when it came to your petitions. It wasn’t that yours prayers went unanswered; oh no, they were heard, loud and clear. What if it was just that the replies came back garbled, like a divine game of broken telephone, or perhaps a cosmic genie who deliberately misinterpreted every wish.
Take the “good-looking, slim body” part. When you first started this particular litany, you were indeed a fairly svelte person. Not exactly a Greek god, mind you, but respectable enough. You could still tie your shoelaces without needing to hold your breath. You could fit into commuter train seats without invoking the wrath of your fellow passengers. You were indeed by all accounts, in decent nick.
Then, slowly, subtly, the transformation began. It started with a slight rounding, a gentle puffiness, like a well-kneaded dough. You started blamed it on stress. Then, it escalated to a noticeable bulge, which you believe was attributed to “water retention” or a particularly aggressive lint trap in the washing machine that’s shrinking all your clothes. Soon, your shirts began to strain, their buttons performing a perilous high-wire act with every inhale. Your once-distinguished chin decided it was lonely and invited a few friends to join it, forming a benevolent, multi-layered jowl.
Holy smokes! You decide to try diets, of course. For a week, it was subsist with kale smoothies that tasted suspiciously like pond scum and steamed chicken breasts that had the texture of shoe leather. You march around the block, red-faced and panting, convinced you were shedding pounds. Then, one evening, after a particularly arduous "walk" that involved more leaning on lamp posts than actual walking, you find yourself staring into the abyss of an open fridge, only to emerge victorious with a family-sized bag of crisps and a tub of ice cream. “It’s for the soul,” you declare, crumbs adhering to your burgeoning beard, “the soul needs sustenance!”
The “slim body” you had prayed for had become decidedly un-slim. It wasn’t just fat, it was a testament to gravity’s relentless pull, a monument to unchecked culinary enthusiasm. Your posture, once proud, had developed a permanent slump, as if your spine had finally surrendered to the sheer volume of you.
And the “good-looking” part? Well, let’s just say your aesthetic had transitioned from “distinguished gentle person to “jolly, slightly dishevelled gnome.” You still smile, that much is true, but now your smiles were often punctuated by the frantic struggle of your shirt buttons, threatening to pop off and become projectiles.
Then there was the "everlasting, thick wallet." This was where the universe’s sense of humor truly went dark, bordering on comedic cruelty. When you first started your prayers, your wallet, while not exactly overflowing with crisp hundreds, was respectable. It held a few useful cards, some emergency cash, and perhaps a half-eaten lollipop. It was a perfectly functional, average wallet.
But as your body expanded, your wallet began a perplexing, inverse shrinking act. It wasn’t just that it became thin, it became a symbol of financial austerity. Bills, when they arrived, seemed to evaporate faster than morning dew. The account, once a comfortable buffer, started performing a bewildering dance of near-emptiness. Every month was a thrilling, high-stakes game of financial Tetris, trying to fit square bills into round holes with increasingly less success.
Each time you check your wallet with a sigh, it's gesture that grew more theatrical with each passing year. It was always there, of course, physically present. But inside? A scattering of lint, an expired loyalty card for a pet store you didn’t own, and perhaps a single, forlorn five-dollar bill that looked like it had been through a medieval torture chamber. “It’s everlasting,” you mutter to yourself , holding up the limp leather like a tragic prop, “but it’s certainly not thick.”
Your friends would try to be delicate by trying to pay for a round of coffees with a crumpled receipt, perhaps you should, you know, adjust your prayer strategy? Nonsense! The Lord works in mysterious ways! Perhaps this is a test of character! A lesson in humility! And a mind full of wisdom is far more valuable than a wallet full of gold!
We nod, trying to suppress our smiles. Because, despite the cosmic joke played on us, we could have been right. You might have gained a considerable amount of girth and lost a significant amount of disposable income, but you haven't lost your spirit. You are still the same wise, hilarious, and genuinely good-hearted soul. Your body might have become a temple of… well, of generous proportions, and your wallet a whisper of its former self, but your laughter is still thick.
So, every evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon you might still be there, kneeling by that armchair, delivering your two unchanging requests. And somewhere, I imagine, the universe would chuckle, preparing its next hilariously ironic interpretation for the person who asked for a slim body and a thick wallet, and got a fat body and a slim wallet instead.
ENDS
By Sam Trailerman
Nganasegaran (tapessam@gmail.com) is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
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