The world is crazier than most people know. But I know. I was a clinical social worker for forty years. I am a witness. I retired from social work to write about the sad, the mad, and the savage; with whom I have spent most of my life. I have decided to translate these stories into fiction, because, as a co-worker once said, "You couldn't make this sh*t up. No one would believe you."

Thursday, November 25, 2010

How to Lose Weight in Middle Age

1. get a wasting disease
2. retire broke, and not be able to eat
3. once a week, jump into the bear enclosure at the zoo and run for your life
4. give up drinking
5. give up eating
6. are you crazy, give up drinking?
7. hello, liposuction department?
8. forget about it, it's impossible.

My sister thinks we have reached an age when it is impossible to starve to death. I almost agree. I mean, I'm sure that if I wound up on a desert island with no food or water, sooner or later my ass would fall off. Probably after my bones were bleached white. But aside from such a dire circumstance, my ass will never budge. They will have to make extra space for it in my coffin. I can run miles every day, lift a baby elephant in each arm, eat nothing but lettuce, drink nothing but water, and go to bed early because life is so boring....and my substantial friend will continue to follow me everywhere.

It has now found a new friend: the gut. Hear me:
until a couple of years ago I had a stomach so flat marbles wouldn't roll off it. But now...sometime, undoubtedly in the dark of night while I was innocently sleeping, a triple roll of fat closely related to my ass spread itself over my formerly admirable tummy. I noticed it when I took a shower and heard someone singing that wasn't me. I looked down and I'm certain it was my gut and my ass doing "Row row row your boat (lardass!)" in 3/4 time.

Sigh. I have to admit it was easier to run from pervs and jump over fences to get away from the cops before my friends became so...attached. Ah well, at my age a perv or two can be entertaining. As for the cops, I can't remember how to commit crimes, so I guess I'm okay.

I'm going to take my fat out for a walk now. Along the way, I will scan the sidewalk for dropped change. I'm saving for liposuction, that'll learn 'em!


  1. While you're at it, would you take my fat for a walk? Actually, I don't care if I have a few extra pounds, so long as I can continue to eat dark chocolate. And there's an upside to it: if you were stuck on that same desert island with one of those skinny little things, you starve last.

  2. My wife keeps complaining how skinny I am, and yet I weigh as much now as when I was my heaviest, at 30, a bodybuilder with 17" arms. Weigh the same, and very little of it pure muscle! But you know what, Scarlett, I don't give a damn. I feel happy and healthy just the same.