Fat Globules

I have them.

Oh, yes, indeed I do.

Some people who have seen me in real life think I look better than I really do. There are two trains of thought that follow this track. One, they are just being nice to me. Two, they are blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other.

Last night, after a hard day’s work and the mowing of two lawns (one at the house and a smaller one at the office), I didn’t feel like cooking. I felt like sushi. I have bad wrists and my sushi sucks. I was hoping to be wined and dined at my favorite Japanese restaurant.

Mr. Demonic would have rather had something at home, but he agreed to meet me there. He had been riding his Harley all day and had that helmet head look going on. My Favorite Japanese Restaurant is nice, but it’s not that nice. Besides, Koji, the owner, knows me from before when his dad owned the place. He wouldn’t care what we looked like.

I was hot and sweaty after my grass-cutting expedition, so I took a shower. Then I attempted to don a cool top and jeans.

I was amazed to find out that all my cool tank tops are too small! These include some very nice ones that I had purchased at the end of last summer and had never worn. These included some that were not form fitting, but were rather loose.

They are now unfortunately all tight! I checked myself out in the mirror. Sure enough, I was all fatty and globulely.

I decided that after my sushi dinner, I was going to reform. So this morning I did ten minutes of yoga with the pretzel dude on the Oxygen Channel’s “Inhale” Show. (That guy is a total yoga nutcase.) I would have done more, but I was afraid I was going to have a heart attack.

I’m going to eat fish and veggies for dinner, no cake.

Then I’m going to jump on my dusty elliptical machine and go until I pass out.

Globules! YUCK!

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