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On Getting Chubby

You may already know about the dire situation of our health condition via Diesel’s last post.  It’s a sad sad state of being.  Being chubby, that is. Rolls jiggling left and right, thighs rubbing against each other with every step.

And I have been trying to eat healthy, really.  For one, I was due for my yearly check up, so I have not eaten at McDonald’s for a month.

Diesel and I became obsessed with weighing ourselves, even as we continued to eat whatever the heck we wanted, and in pretty large amounts.  First, we weighed ourselves on my sister’s scale. Not encouraging.   Then, at his parents’ house.  Still, no luck.  Both my sister and Dad Sale claimed that their scales were as accurate as a doctor’s scale, but despite the discrepancy in our weights, we were confident that Dad’s scale was the one that was right, since our weights were a bit lower on that scale.

On the second day, I was still just as chubby as before, so I started stripping, taking my jeans off first.  “Diesel, my jeans weigh 2 pounds!!!,” I said, much too excited, not paying any heed to the fact that I was semi naked in my in-laws’ bathroom, wit the door open and wearing raggedy underwear.  But desperation knows no decency,so I stood there in my raggedy underwear and weighed myself three more times to see if I my underwear or bra were the culprits when it came to my extra poundage.

The jeans were heavy, but after I took them off the weight did not change at all.

I am secretly hoping to jumpstart my new diet with a violent case of diarrhea, but the more I consider this option, the more I become convinced that this would be a rather painful, not to mention unpleasant, means to lose the extra weight.

We shall see what happens during the trip.


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