My Troll

There is an evil little couch potato living in my head. He hides in an undefined area between my conscious and subconscious. I feel him lurking there, licking his orange, Cheetos-stained fingers.

I dislike this troll and his endless commentary. He's obsessed with TV schedules, always certain something "good" is on. He's equally curious about the refrigerator and the pantry. To him, a snack and a show are a heavenly combination that should be enjoyed whenever possible. I try to ignore him but it doesn't stop his constant chattering.

If I decide to go for a run around the neighborhood, he suddenly becomes a meteorologist, citing temperatures and heat indexes. He hates it when I exercise and he does his best to discourage me at every turn. As I start out, he's singing in my ear, trying to get me to quit. My joints and muscles are often providing backup to his discouraging song. I turn up the volume on my iPod, an attempt to drown him out.

After the run, he's still there. Having lost the exercise battle, he tries to use it to his advantage. After such a workout, surely I deserve a little rest, a little TV time, maybe a small snack? But I know with him there is no 'little', no 'small'.

The troll and I have a complicated past. There was a time when I was more receptive to his suggestions of indolence. I think he hangs around because he hopes to rekindle that torpid magic. I've tried to tell him that I've moved on, that I'm a different person, but the troll is not convinced.