26th day of Summer, 582
I suppose there may be worse kinds when it comes to curses. Clearly worse than a curse consisting of having to model in her bikini for her fiancé, yet hardly a threat to her life that said bikini is too small. Still, I can’t truly combat my dear Slyph’s want to fight it. After all, I certainly have the most to gain from her fitting in that delightfully enticing outfit.
Clearly, she is no halfling, and the turning heads at her passage demonstrate that amply, her ageless curves are still balanced and well-proportioned, her figure still one for gaping mouths. Her charm is far from gone, and jealousy is still rampant — such a lovely feeling to read seething hatred on others’ faces since our engagement.
And yet, anything short of perfection will simply not be enough for her. Her extended stint in the library left its mark through lack of exercise, and while fabric may be more forgiving, chain mail hardly allows for much chocolate or even beer. And so – thankfully through someone else’s advice, as I may have lost my head suggesting it – she runs, convinced each lap turns back the tide of the “curse” a little further.
Still, her training regiment is relentless, methodical, and frighteningly time consuming. She hardly has had time for much else at all. All for a good cause of course, so I have been exhibiting a mystic-worthy patience, enjoying the already quite noticeable improvements. Mouths gape wider, heads turning threaten to cause an epidemic of neck injuries with every lap around town center.
Soon enough, that bikini will fit her like a glove, but until then I bide my time. An engagement party is in the works, to celebrate the future celebration, but I dare not suggest a date before she’s satisfied with her exorcism. I’m sure the entire town would vote for her to take her time and look even more attractive… If it was up to them – which it isn’t, she’s mine!