Don't talk to strangers

I met a man on my walk this morning who greeted me with, “Well, hello there, old lady!” Because (A) I am a good sport, and (B) I know most people are stupid, I responded with a hearty, “Good morning! Isn't it a gorgeous day?”

I walked on past and mulled over his bizarre salutation. Seriously? Do I look that old? He was older than I am, for Pete’s sake. I might be fat, but I'm not old. Why in the world would someone say that?? Maybe he has some mental problems. I do look old, don't I?

Grousing over the greeting fueled my power walk up the last incline to my house, then it hit me. “Old Navy,” not “old lady.” I was wearing an Old Navy shirt. Oh.

Good thing I hadn’t followed my inclination to administer an atomic wedgie. I’d be feeling really bad right now.

And that power walk probably did me a lot of good. I should have someone insult me every morning.

Millions eager for launch of Big Butt Survival Kit

Last night I was at my sister’s house for dinner. We were gathering in the dining room and I found myself at the end of the table where I settled into an armed captain’s chair.
A wave of disgust came over me like a putrid fog.
“I’m going to need to trade chairs with someone, “I said, “or these arms aren’t ever going to the same.”
Everyone looked at me in horror. I exchanged chairs with my nephew in the stunned silence, and it was a while before the table conversation regained momentum.

This will not do. While I continue my sporadic exercise and diet program I need some sort of emergency kit for big butt situations such as this. From now on, whenever I leave the house I will have a Big Butt Survival Kit with me.
Clearly, I’m going to need a bigger purse. Something like a carry-on with wheels and a long handle will be perfect. The kit will naturally include olive oil or WD-40 for lubrication for getting in and out of a narrow chair. A crow bar and a small saw are musts. And how about a couple of giant shoe horns that I could place on the arms to use as a sort of chute -- or fat funnel, if you will. Butt horns? The problem with those would be that they would force the excess blubber upward, which could be a choking hazard. That would certainly make swallowing difficult. Wait. Is that bad….or good?
I could probably market the Big Butt Survival Kit. Think about the retail placement opportunities. Movie theaters, sports arenas and airports wouldn’t be able to keep them in stock. It should be made clear that the Big Butt Survival Kit will never make a good gift item for wives or mothers-in-law, however handy and practical it may be.
OK, I need to get busy. I need to design and find a manufacturer for the butt horns and see where I can get a volume discount on mega cans of WD-40. There’s no time to lose – I have a movie date tomorrow!

M&M judgment call, please

So, I suppose eating M&Ms while you walk is completely out? But they're so handy with that "melt in your mouth and not in your hand" business. They're practically DESIGNED with sweating in mind.

Exercise tip: Get a Lab

If you're having trouble getting or staying motivated to get out and walk, get a Lab.

If they don't get exercise, they get fat and everyone will harp at you, "A fat dog is a sign his owner needs more exercise." Blah, blah, blah.

After five years of enduring jokes about Jigs' waistline, the fact that he has rolling ripples of fat on his back, and a fat roll under his collar, I started looking and listening.

The epiphany came at about the same time I saw some candid full-body photos of myself. Is that my rear end?? Are those fat ripples on my back? Where is my waist? Did my head shrink? When did this happen?

So Jigs and I are on the desperate exercise plan together.

A pleasant discovery for me was that Jigs is big enough to pull me along. Sure, I have to move my feet myself, but the dog propels me along. I still get out of breath and overheated -- all the benefits of a good walk -- but I don't have to work at it very hard. It's practically cheating.

Shhh.

Fit and trim after just two days of exercise

Break out the celebratory Ding Dongs! Two mornings of dedicated exercise before work. I know, I know, I can't believe it, either. Yesterday I did a belly dancing video and could hear my atrophied muscles' frantic cries, "No! Don't make us do that! We can't. Stop! Don't make us!" Still, I persevered and soon the cries for help were replaced with,"Ooo, now, that feels good, baby. Don't stop! Ahhh!"

And when I turned off the video, I heard a sexy, satisfied whisper, "Let's do that again soon."

This morning I did my walk video. (Who'd have thought a gal with a library of exercise videos could be so fat?) My glasses were slipping down on my nose way before the leader commented, "We're starting to sweat! I love it to feel that sweat!" Oh, brother. My life is mostly about avoiding sweating opportunities. I even vacuum my little house in shifts so I don't get moist.

Because I felt so athletic and fit after two days of exercise, I tried on the jeans I haven't been able to get into all summer. They are digging into my waist and most of my excess 60 pounds are bubbling over the top, but the things are zipped. I can't breathe, but the things are zipped.

Tomorrow is Saturday. Do I give myself an exercise break, or do I go ahead and pull out another video so as not to break my stride?