The Amish Got It Goin' On

I got on The Scale this morning, and it turned out it wasn't so bad--I mean for someone who has been paying little attention to what she's eating. The Scale has a tendency to rule the way I feel the day I weigh myself. If The Scale says something good about me, I'm fine. But if The Scale says something bad, my day is ruined.

What's that? The Scale is an inanimate object that couldn't possible say things about me. You lie. The Scale says things about me all of time. The Scale calls me a fat pig with no control. Yes, it does.

OK. OK. So it's really me who says those about me. But it still doesn't mean that The Scale isn't involved in some kind of conspiracy against me, and Oliver Stone is just waiting for the movie rights.

My horoscope this month says that one of friends might disappoint me and this disappointment might lead to a parting of the ways. I thought, "Yeah sure." Who would disappoint me? If I had waited a couple of days, I would've known. There she goes being vague and cryptic again.

According to a new study done on Amish people--that's right I said Amish people--it's possible to beat the fat gene by being moderately active for three to four hours a day. I'm already moderately active for at least an hour, and it wears me out. And Amish people work all day long.

I once had a job cleaning hotel rooms during the summer before I started college. I could eat virtually anything I wanted because I was exercising eight hours a day. But I am no where near that kind a shape now. I guess I could work up to it. But the thought. . . .