Wednesday, July 16, 2008

My Fat Little Fellow

I'm carrying around a full grown beaver.
Yeah, I agree. That's pretty gross. And it even sounds nasty. But let's face the facts here.
Full grown beavers weigh about thirty pounds, which is about the same amount of weight that I need to lose. Every time I think about grabbing a chocolate bar or a slab of salami, I try to focus on that huge beaver. I try to imagine myself walking through the mall or doing housework with the portly beaver buried under my teeshirt or curled up around my buttocks. I just wish he would give me a good hard slap of its tail when I start giving into temptation. For heaven's sake, what good does it do to carry around your own beaver if it doesn't contribute something?
When you're overweight, it causes new problems that skinny people never have.
I mean, how in the world do you dress a full grown beaver? He falls unattractively out of lo-rise jeans, lays like a adult python on your waistline and slobbers grotesquely beneath any sort of sexy nightgown.
I could live with the fact that I'm stuck with this beaver if he'd let me choose where he stays. It would be great if he would lay across my breast and remain there -firm and perky for the rest of my life!
Oh, believe me- I've tried to starve him out, practically living on broth and tofu for days. I've tortured him with green, leafy salads and fresh fruit. And, if I'm really lucky, he'll shrink a quarter pound or so in thirty days.
Some days I'll even forget he's there. I'll put on my extra loose jeans and enormous tee shirt and spend the day busying myself so that I don't have even a minute to grab a snack or quick bite.
But, by the next day, he's back again- peeking out from beneath my pajama top or rolling around in my sweat pants. He sure is a fat little fellow!
A lot of people have life goals - important things in their lives that they wish to accomplish. Well, I am here today to announce my personal mission statement: