Day One

For some months now, ever since taking a job which absolutely required stress eating as an alternative to ending up naked on the roof with a deer rifle, I have looked like ten pounds of sausage stuffed into a five-pound skin. The job has changed, but the bulges have been my constant companion. They are more loyal than a dog and more annoying than the most recent Hollywood starlet complaining about how her attractiveness keeps her from being taken seriously as an actor.

On Monday I was chatting with my boss, who recently began her own diet, and as a result of our talk I ended up writing for her five or so pages of dieting tips I have learned over the years. She was kind enough not to tell me to keep my helpfulness to myself, and we had a great conversation about how some people don't understand the struggle it can be to lose weight and to exercise. I added that the first thing I want to do when I feel like someone is judging me harshly for my weight is to reach for the comfort food!

I will state it here for the record - Skinny People of the World, take note! - hints that I could stand to lose some weight, start working out, and buy some clothing that decently shrouds my unsightly fat DON'T HELP. Do you really think I failed to notice that my "mushroom top" has expanded into a "mushroom cloud", or that my waistbands have turned into tourniquets and my thighs appear to be trying to meld themselves into one unit?

Anyhow, although it goes against my grain to let the Skinny People of the World (SPWs) think that their snide remarks may have induced me to diet (when in fact sheer rebellion against their hurtful attitude has kept me over-consuming), I have nonetheless begun the "lifestyle change" required to shed my extra weight. This blog is my way of blowing off steam about the discomfort and inconvenience associated with those changes. Yes, I need to lose weight and no, it's not going to get any easier if I hold off.

Now get me a pizza and a tub of KFC.