By Alicia Hall

OK, that's it. I've officially declared war on my thighs.

I passed a store window today and turned to see who the fat lady behind me was, only to find
she was me. Something's got to give when you can follow yourself and not know it. It's dad-
blasted amazing how in my mirror at home, I'm still 17 and svelte. Snow White's step mom must
have really had something after all.

The problem with this declaration, is the length of time required for victory. I know I lost my
territory slowly and gradually. But let's face it, we all want to take the hill on the first day of
battle. The person who could invent a one-day nonstop anti-fat device, would own the world.
We wouldn't have to be greedy. The device could be a one shot deal. You pork up again, it's
up to you, babe. But gee, don't we all deserve the chance to be stupid at least once in our life?

The way I see it, I'm really not overweight. I'm just 3 feet too short. Vertically challenged, so to
speak. If I were 10’ 6" tall, I’d be darn svelte. Yea, that's it. I’d be a 10’ 6" bikini model...

Fine, you got me. My malfunctioning gland is my brain. Truth is; I love food! I adore food. High
fat, low fat, who cares? It's food and therefore worthy of my adoration. Chocolate, of course, is
in a category of its own. Chocolate transcends classification as mere food. It assumes more of
a godlike stature. Chocolate is to be revered, celebrated. As such, it must be partaken of
regularly to ensure spiritual well being. Chocolate consumption is not frivolous, it's satisfying a
basic biological need. Ask any woman.

I suppose my second failing would be exercise. I hate sweat. I hate thinking about sweat. I hate
producing sweat. I hate cleaning up after sweat. I hate being around other people who are
sweating. It's all pretty simple; if the choice came down to death or sweat, I'd choose daisy dirt.

This aversion wreaks havoc with an exercise regime. When the point is to elevate your heart
rate, sweat is an indisputable side effect…so much for my activity level. Let's see, no exercise,
lots o' chocolate. Hmmm… Wonder why the fat lady walking behind me was so darn close?

Well, now I've gone and done it. I've taken a blood oath to burn my fat lady clothes. Since the
whole Joan of Arc thing holds little attraction for me, I guess I've got to shrink. I must break up
with food. We're going to have to cool it off to just a friendly relationship. I hope the grocer
doesn't take it too hard. His stocks are going to plummet.

Then there's the sweat issue...conquering this one may kill me.

I've got to give in and join the world of the weight-conscious. Not that I wasn't conscious of it
before. I always knew I had a weight, I just didn't know how much it was.

Never fear,, I won't go too far. I've made my husband promise to lock me up if I ever turn into
one of those size six skinny minnies, who gripes about her thighs. I guess my days of
threatening to sit on those ladies are soon to be over.

Maybe I still have time to track down a few...for exercise.
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