Operation WS 32 - cut the enemy to size

The camouflaged attire I adorned didn't really speak volumes of my calibre as a fighter. It was just proof.... proof I was fighting something. I wore the thick shirt with relative ease. It was tighter than what I expected it would be. It cut my shoulders and was stuffy at the chest and neck. My pant was still unbuttoned. I had it on though, almost. It was the button that was bordering around being a nuisance. I tugged at the zip hard, trying to make it cross the "Line of control". But it remained insurgent to my wishes, like the refugee oblivious to the greener other side. I fought and fought and fought for god knows how long. It wouldn't budge. The battle was very nearly lost.

Sensing defeat my fingers caught hold of the button and its hole. The enemy had to be scuffed. It's what it deserved. And I was the undertaker. But the button was a coward, not wishing the hole to be strung around it's neck. The distance it had to cover to get to its hole was large, larger than ever. The mountanious trip to the gallows was a hard journey, and not surprisingly, much like the zip, the button too didn't budge. It was a refugee in another's camp, but this time, not oblivious to the fact there was peace at the other end. I t knew, yet had no choice.

But my hands didn't let go. They continued their constant onslaught of the button, and much likea forever troubled resident of an already troubled nation, it broke away and fell to the ground. There it fell, cut off from it's original position only because it couldn't cross the mountain inbetween.

I then saw the real enemy.

The mountain in between grew as the misunderstood button fell to the ground. It just kept growing. It was breathing like it was alive. But you could see that it was not active. THAT land was the enemy. The enemy that was left to grow in between by an inactive and lazy mind.

Now I had to mend it. Otherwise it would continue to grow like a bottomless pit in the middle of the atlantic.

And then it came to me. Operation WS (Waist Size) 32 (inches). The Brainstorm of an idea to rid my body of no man's land. Then there would be no conflicts. A world protected by a process stronger than the protection of a pant zip.....

Losing weight.

I had to cut the enemy to size and this was my only choice. It had its many advantages.

But for a fighter like me... the biggest would be.... the opportunity to "stand at ease".