I’m too fat.
I found myself with an extra 20 pounds. It didn’t happen over night, it just crept up on me when I wasn’t looking. An ice cream cone here. Crème brulee there. Yeah, give me extra mashed potatoes with that! And before you know it, my trim 34-inch waist has become a spare tire at a tight 36. Rats.
In high school and college, at 6 feet and 150 pounds, my friends referred to me as “skinny.” When I was asked my weight for my first drivers license (1963), I put down 150 when it was actually 135. But three days ago, I tipped the scale at 201, and panic set in. I started to haunt myself with thoughts of fat. Fat arteries. Fat cholesterol. Fat stomach. And the ever popular…“Does this make my butt look big? I found myself with an extra 20 pounds. It didn’t happen over night, it just crept up on me when I wasn’t looking. An ice cream cone here. Crème brulee there. Yeah, give me extra mashed potatoes with that! And before you know it, my trim 34-inch waist has become a spare tire at a tight 36. Rats.
