A Weighty Proposition

It's now 2010, and I don't feel fat. I just feel out of shape. The winter time here calls for lethargic days on the Davenport, thinking about what to eat next. Watching Berta on 2.5 Men requires snacking. Envying the slender physiques of the Housewives of OC while downing a bag of Fritos with chili cheese dip is not out of bounds. These episodes of frank gluttony are too commonplace now that the snow has fallen and temps do not edge above 35F.

The scale mentions my weight as reasonable for my height. So, I'm okay then, right? I think not. My 2-3 miles walks on the treadmill in autumn 2009 have disappeared like my green lawn, obscured by a white winter crust.

I've gotta get on the wagon again.