Well Known Secrets

I used to lie about my age.  I did it in a way that folks knew I wasn’t really 33, yet they knew they weren’t going to find out exactly how old I was, either.   My sister has never minded telling how old I am.   She’s been known to add a year or two, just for kicks.  (Makes me want to kick her!)   I have to admit that I still don’t like the sound of my age because, well, it sounds old.   A quick look at my face in the mirror reminds me that, indeed, I am…old.

This morning, my birthday morning, I woke up with a headache.   When I got up and moved around, it got worse.   I whined to Ole Boy that my head was hurting.   He said, “No wonder.   It’s 48 years old.”

There, I said it.  I am 48 today.

It really does sound old, doesn’t it?

I’m having a Facebook birthday party…it’s kinda neat to get lots and lots of birthday wishes.   I never, ever do the birthday thing in a restaurant.   (Well, there was that one time my dad thought it would be funny and pulled that on me...servers singing, off key and loud…I was not amused!)    But a FB “party” is a good thing.   Now if only I had some cake…KK’s doughnuts will do as a very nice substitute, though.

Speaking of cake, I started a diet yesterday.   Today, obviously, I believe I’ll take a break.   It’s my birthday, after all.  And Thursday, another break because of an office party.   I’m going to ignore The Biggest Loser’s “No Excuses” motto tonight.   As we all know, any excuse will do…at least for me.    Then, Friday?   Who starts a diet on a Friday?   Somebody who dies, maybe?   I really don’t think it will be me…unless, of course, I’m dead.    And if I keep eating like I do…well, never mind.

I would never go on The Biggest Loser.   Have I blogged that before?   Probably.   I’m old.  Bear with me, I’m going to say it again.    I think I could do the extreme exercise…if Bob Harper were yelling at me, threatening to break both my legs, and after I woke up from passing out, or perhaps tossing my cookies.  But I have too much dignity…or pride…to ever go on national television in my underwear, or in those halter top/bra things they make the contestants wear during weigh in.   Is that really necessary?    Men and women!  Put on a shirt!!! 

How do you make writing about the woes of yo-yo dieting and losing weight funny?   Is it believable…is it even conceivable that we can laugh about being fat and somebody doesn’t get offended?   I’m going to give it a try…when I finally have two days in a row that I stick to a diet, that is.   You can relax, Dear Reader, that won’t be this week. 

PS:  I’m irritated that in order to make a post on Blogger today, I am forced to use Google Chrome.  A prisoner in my own blog!  Not cool, Google.   Makes me want to check out WordPress.