As befits a person of my considerable girth, most of my pants have elastic in the waistband. I am proud to report that I can no longer put my wallet into the pockets of these pants as the wallet will drag the pants down until I look like a hip-hop granny. Which means I have a fat wallet and a less fat waist.

All due, I think, to my decision to try and eat better. Maybe I should buy a scale and see if this circumstantial evidence is bourn out by facts. Nah-- scales are the devil. I learned that at the weekly exorcism at Weight Watchers.



But, like I've mentioned before, when you are as fat as I am, things like this make very little visual difference.

I see a claim for The Carmelite Monestary and in my mind's eye I a bunch of fat chicks praying for low-cal sweets.

No matter how much fun you think it will be, never stick you dick in the crazy. It always comes back to boil your bunny.

They were supposed to take the door(s). They didn't. I am now going to attempt to turn it into a table. If you have it, please give advice.