So Memorial Day came and went and forgive me lord for I have sinned. Impure thoughts of rapture with cheeseburgers and hot dogs and brightly colored cocktails with umbrellas and everything that constitutes a party that I wasn’t invited to. The skinny partied while the fatty looked on reduced to the role of a mere spectator
It was like the story of the child looking through the window on Christmas morning enviously watching all the other kids opening their presents but not invited in to share.
The party went on without me while I sipped lemon water and chewed on a cardboard burger.
But like all things in life my day dawned and it was Wednesday again and I stood intimidated waiting for my turn with the scales. I really do hate that contraption; it holds my happiness in the palm of its machinery. If it’s up then I’m down, if it’s down then I’m up.
So the gods of fat people where shinning on me this week the humorless contraption announced to the world that I was down “wait for it” 3.2 pounds. Repeat 3.2 pounds. In letters that is three point two pounds.
OK enough of the boasting but now I know how they feel on the biggest looser when an anticipated gain turns into a big loss.
Thank you God.
