Paying for a Summer of Sin

Hey, Jenny, it’s me, Regina.

Yeah, it has been a while.

I’m fine. Well, sorta.

My summer? It was good. Too good, I guess. That’s kinda why I’m calling. You know how last Spring I was looking all hot and feeling good about myself? Well, I’m still looking hot -- but it’s really more of an over-weight, sweaty-hot. Perhaps it would have behooved me to be a bit more vigilant over the summer.

My activity level? Well, how many calories do you think you burn carrying a cooler of beer down to the beach?

Not that much, huh?

It was a case, you know, not just some dinky six-pack.

Oh.

Did I make good choices? Sure! When the choice was between fried shrimp or fried scallops.

Yeah, I know. I use humor to mask my shame. So, um, I was thinking...can I come back in?

That’s swell. Wait...you won’t have to weigh me, will you?

You will? Crap. Can I at least weigh in the nude?

No? Man, you guys are really sticklers for that rule, aren’t you?

Fine. I’ll see you at 11:00.

Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it, too. And afterward I’m thinking about going for a PAP smear and a mammogram just to round out the day of fun.

Yes. That was my humor.

Bye.

And here we go again.

Can someone please explain to me how it can take four months to lose the same amount of weight you can gain in only one month? And don’t go saying it was the laying around and eating fried foods and drinking fruity drinks all summer that did it. If I wanted brutal honesty I would have called my mom.

I guess I feel like it just happened so fast. One minute I was buying the first two-piece swim-suit I’d bought in nearly seven years, and the next minute I was searching my drawer for the pants I wore home from the delivery room. It’s so frustrating.

I simply got too comfortable with myself. Sure, that’s supposed to be the touchy-feely, everyone’s a winner, we accept all kinds attitude. But, let’s be honest -- it’s that type of mentality that allows a 200-pound woman to wear a thong bikini and a 300-pound man to wear a Speedo. I don’t care how at-one with yourself you are, Oprah --suck it in or cover it up!

Wah, wah, wah. I'm too fat. Blah, blah, blah.

I suppose I can continue to bitch and complain or I can throw away the Chex Mix, pour out the wine, take the wrapper off the “Dancing With the Stars Workout DVD” and get back at it.

Yes. That was my humor again.

Because I don’t care how much weigh, it is NEVER okay to pour out wine.