Frightening Tales of Lard, Love and Financial Ruin
Hello all. Thank you for being patient with me. I have discovered a profound secret which I wish to share with you all. The best way to forget all about your weight, your tumultuous love life or lack thereof, your wrinkles, gray hair and sagging body parts is, without a doubt, to get yourself into some financial trouble. When money which is suposed to be there does not come, and you have written checks of such revolting rubberiness that it will take nothing short of a miracle to climb your way out, you may very well FORGET TO EAT!!! Amazing isn't it? Fat Betty forgot to eat. It's the "I Owe the Bank a Buncha Fees Now, Dammit" diet. Although it works, I do not recommend it.
Now for the "love" part. An old flame in the process of being dumped by his wife ran into a mutual friend of ours and told her he wanted to see me. I supose he thought I, with my blinding beauty and Michelin Man-Like figure, could make all the misery of being unceremoniously divorced go away. Anyhoo, he showed up, amazingly enough, at my home the next day. I was in the garden up to my elbows in dirt. Each of my leg hairs had either a leaf of grass impaled on it or a clod of dirt hanging from it. I was sweating rather like a plow mule.
One would think this combination of disgusting attributes would turn a man off. He, however, told me how beautiful I was and tried to plant a big wet one on me. He asked if we could start dating. (He's very straight and to the point.) I was rather excited since it has been two years since a man had crept close enough to attempt a smooch. It was a romance novel moment. It was a Lifetime movie moment. Everyone was very impressed. I told them all not to be because I live by Murphey's Law. If something can go wrong it will. Even if it takes some kind of inexplicable cataclysm, it will go wrong one way or the other.
Well, wouldn't ya know, my own little personal tear in the fabric of reality opened up just big enough to swallow up a 175 pound man and he is gone. Haven't heard from him since that day. My luck. He was sucked into an alternate deminsion. He went wherever one sock from each pair goes during the wash. He went wherever stuff that falls down into the depths of the sofa goes. For some reason, I am spared from being sucked into the Unknown Zone myself. There, but by the grace of God go I, I supose.
And, finally, the lard part. I have a 43 inch equator. It is not a waist. It is now, officially, a frickin' equator. I measured it yesterday. My friend was all upset because she has a 34 inch waist. I think she was thankful for that little rinky dink number when she heard my enormous circumferance. But, like I said, financial ruin has rendered me completely appetite free. Not even Richard Simmons could put you on a diet like this.