Let's Get Physical

Some people hang on to old Cool Whip containers. Others can't part with their plastic grocery bags.

Me? I'm having a tough time separating myself from my stockpiled cellulite.

The extra pounds keep me warm in winter... and make for a nice source of energy should I get picked for the next season of Survivor, but let's face it, what is the likelihood of that happening?

I decided to sack up and join a gym like the rest of the modern world.

Let me first say I won't be one of those skinny bitches wearing one of those sports bra and thong getups. Thongs are for beneath the clothing (when one chooses to wear underwear), not on the outside.


I actually envy those kept women with the buns hard enough to bounce quarters off of, but I don't have enough time or love for the stairmaster and a diet of celery and water. Besides, someone has to keep the local Starbucks in business, right?

Unfortunately it's that very habit, the addiction to sweets I've previously mentioned that's leading me to take this emergency action.

It's true what they say, a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. My ample bosom is being complimented (in perhaps a not so flattering manner) by my ample hips, my ample thighs and my ample tummy. I'm 5'8" and big boned, and have always been one of the bigger girls. That I'm used to. But a couple months ago I started losing weight, and now I am looking to get a little toned.

Wait. Did I just say that?

I don't want to look back, years from now and regret the best years of my life. Regret that I didn't flaunt it because I didn't have it. Regret that I didn't wear those short skirts that drive old men crazy and old women mad. Regret I didn't try and use my looks to get out of a speeding ticket. Regret that I didn't at least have the option of looking like a porn star when I wanted to "when I was a young girl."

Because when I'm 80 and my boobs are hanging down to my knees... there's no way I'm gonna be looking like a porn star then.