Hodge Podge

I saw the doc today. My last surgery did absolutely nothing to improve my voice. I sat there and cried. I'm not much of a crier, but I felt pretty sad about all I've gone through with this voice disorder.
I'm not a wallower, so my tears went away quickly. On Thursday, my doc will be performing my 19th throat surgery and taking fascia from my thigh to implant into my vocal folds. I've never had this particular procedure before, so I'm hoping for the best. I'm grateful that this surgery will be done down the throat and not have to cut through the front of the throat. My scar could use the rest.
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I've done a lot of flying over the years. Some airport codes make perfect sense, such as GSO (Greensboro), DAL (Dallas), STL (St. Louis), OAK (Oakland), & DEN (Denver).
But some have me flummoxed:
DTW (Detroit) - Why the W? This only makes sense if you're Elmer Fudd.
WBU (Boulder) - Again, the W.
CGX (Chicago) - Why the X?
LAX (Los Angeles) - THE X??
If there's some obvious explanation that my dense mind has been unable to deduce, please be gentle with me.
I very much want to know. I cannot go under general anesthesia with these unanswered questions.
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Why have we moved so much? There are several reasons, and it would take a separate blog to fully answer. I'll post the Reader's Digest version some day. BTW, yes we pay our rent on time EVERY month.
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This hotel's wireless internet service SUCKS!

Off to North Carolina

I'm flying to North Carolina today. I will see my doctor on Tuesday. I may have surgery on Thursday, but I won't know for sure until I see the doc.
For those of you who are fairly new to my blog, you can catch up on what I'm talking about by reading all the juicy details in this highly intriguing post.
Some of you will remember that my doc had a sex change. You can view before and after pics here. Let me know what you think. There is a series of four pictures.
I'm bringing my laptop with me, so I should be able to blog from NC. I'll let you know what happens.
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I am so exhausted. We worked our butts off this weekend. Wait a second... My butt is still there. Shoot!
We moved our earthly possessions to a new rental house. This will be our seventh place of residence in the past two and a half years.
No, we are not in the Witness Protection Program.
No, we are not fugitives from justice.
Here's the kicker: We will be moving again in about six months.

It's a Girl!

After Hubby had his gall bladder removed, I brought Courtney and Taylor by the hospital to check on dear, old dad. He had told me that it hurt to cough or laugh. So what did we do? We stopped by the hospital gift shop and picked up these little items. Each kid came into his room bearing "It's a Girl!" gifts.
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When I took the pic above with Hubby's face in the shot, I counted "One, Two, Three" so he could prepare a pleasant smile. Then, I told him I was zooming in to take a close up of the gifts, and right before I took that pic, I started counting again, "One, Two..." Hubby got to laughing, asking me why I was counting. I dunno!
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Yesterday morning, I had the TV on mute with the news on. A news story was being reported, and the banner below it read: Father rolls over, kills twin daughters. I kept visualizing a huge man rolling over and crushing his twin girls. It was actually about a terrible car wreck.
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We have a DVR, so I don't see many commercials. But, often I will have the news on while I'm getting ready in the morning or when I'm just hanging out at home. I am to the point of loathing that annoying guy that says, "Lost another one to Ditech." I can no longer stand the sight of him.

I hope you have a great weekend!

Great Flick Picks

I'd like to suggest some great movies that I have enjoyed watching over and over again. That's the secret of a great movie; it's good every time.

1. Lost in Yonkers
2. Sense and Sensibility
3. Parenthood
4. Steel Magnolias
5. Casablanca

Please let me know of some great movies that you have deemed worthy of multiple viewings. We have a movie pass at our rental store that allows us to rent a LOT of movies over the next month. Any suggestions?

Uncle Joe , don't you DARE suggest "Joe versus the Volcano." I said "great" movies.

New Definition for "Chimes"

My hubby had his gall bladder removed the Thursday after Christmas. We both went in to see the surgeon.
The doc had him remove his shirt. He commented that my hubby had a lot of moles.
"Hello, Mr. Moley!" were his exact words. He told Hubby to strip down for a mole check of his whole body.
Every skin surface was examined from between his toes to his scalp. And I mean EVERYwhere.
The funniest part was when he said, "Turn and face me while I check the chimes." I started laughing. I couldn't help it; I chuckled like an idiot.
The doc showed me two moles that concerned him. Luckily, both were on Hubby's back and not on the "chimes" or any other sensitive area, as talk of cutting them out was also mentioned. He said he would remove them while Hubby was in surgery having his gall bladder removed. The moles he showed me were ones that I would not have known to be dangerous.
The doc told me the ABCD of moles:
Asymmetry: Normal moles are not odd shaped.
Border: Normal moles have distinct borders, not blurred.
Color: Normal moles are even in color. My Hubby's moles were darker on the outer rim and nearly skin colored in the middle.
Diameter: Normal moles are not very big. Any mole larger than the diameter of a pencil eraser should be checked.
We got the test results back, and both moles were in early cancer stage. By removing them, there is no further danger.
If you are a Mr. or Miss Moley, then be sure to have your whole body checked yearly.
And for you Mr. Moleys, don't forget to check your chimes.

Semi-Cussing

My son has picked up the habit of using the word, frickin'. It has become a daily part of his vocabulary, and I'm frickin' tired of it!
I told him to give that word a rest.
Taylor's usage of "frickin'" has gotten to the annoying stage. You know, like when people like use like words like "you know" and words like "like," like you know, way too much, so you want to like, you know, slap them like upside the head.
The word does come in handy though. If it's not overused (like Taylor has been doing), and if it is placed in just the right place, at just the right time, so as to have its full affect, then the word can really pack a satisfyingly significant punch.
It's like saying "Fudge," only better.
It is semi-cussing.
Also, you can get away with using curse words in another language, and it isn't considered legitimate cussing. Try it.
Say this: Holy Merde!
You just cussed in French, so it didn't really count.
This is a somewhat juvenile post, but I happen to be in a silly mood.
If you didn't enjoy this post, then just let me say in my best Godfather accent:
non mi rompere le palle!

How Can She Be Mine?

This is the girl that I've believed to be my daughter for the past 17 years. Some things about her are baffling though, and have led me to believe there may have been a baby mix up. I have not ever been nor am I now a picky eater. Courtney is a very picky eater. She's not your run-of-the-mill picky eater. Brace yourself for this. She doesn't like peanut butter & jelly sandwiches. She refuses to eat macaroni & cheese. How can this be? Who on earth does this kid belong to?
Also, she has this gorgeous head of thick hair. I call it a horsetail. She washes it, and it stays wet ALL DAY LONG if she doesn't blow it dry. If she puts it in a ponytail or bun, it will still be damp the next morning. Great hair genes did not come from me. You should have seen my pitiful ponytails and braids as a kid.
Another big difference between us is her dislike of shopping, and my love of shopping. I'm not a big spender or anything, I just love to go bargain hunting, and I enjoy just strolling around and looking at stuff. She HATES just looking. She goes to the store with a mission in mind and that's it. Once she purchases the items she came for, she's done.
The other night something happened that assured me that she's my baby girl. She called me and said, "Mom, I'm being pulled over by a policeman." She was on the verge of tears and needed her mommy to calm her nerves. I had her keep me on the phone. The officer said, "Miss, you were going 77 in a 65 zone." He took her license and after a long wait, he returned and let her go with just a warning. Whew! She said I helped her get through it. Yep, I'm her mom! I told her to come right home. I was fixing macaroni & cheese.

Bonding

My best friend, Tami, was telling me about a friend of hers.
"She is so beautiful. She's an albino."
As the conversation progressed, she mentioned that her friend's mom is black and her dad is white. Albino?
Tami is blonde.
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Early in our friendship, Tami and I went to a spa in Calistoga (Napa Valley), CA. We did a package for two which included a mud soak, spring water hot tub soak, and a massage.
We are both somewhat modest ladies, so when we were instructed to strip naked and get in the mud bath, we felt a little embarrassed. We stood there stark naked and slipped into the hot mud.
"I wonder how often they change this mud?" I said. Eeeew!
The attendant came back and told us to get out and use the hand-held nozzles to rinse all the mud off. Tami and I got to laughing so hard because here we were, naked as picked birds, covered in mud, using these nozzles to get mud out of EVERY crevice and cranny imaginable.
BTW, there's no ladylike way to do that.
Next, we were told to get into the hot tub and soak for fifteen minutes. Ahhhh. It was heaven. Those jets were vigorously moving the water.
Tami is well-endowed, and I am not so well-endowed. I noticed a huge difference between hers and mine as we sat in the hot tub. I said, "Your boobs are dancing around like buoys, and mine aren't moving at all."
We laughed and chortled and guffawed!
After that, we enjoyed our massages. Later that night, we said we would most certainly be great friends for life after our spa experience. We've since gone to several more spas, but have NEVER again entered a mud bath.
Women bond differently than men, don't they?
Somehow, I can't see men enjoying the spa experience together like we did. And I certainly can't imagine them pointing out anatomy differences and chuckling over them.

Presidential Line of Succession

Who becomes president if the prez and vice prez die or are out of commission?
It is interesting how this works. Not everyone in the line of succession is eligible. For example, the president must be a natural born US citizen.
Here's the line of succession:
Speaker of the House of Representatives
President Pro Tempore of the Senate
Secretary of State
Secretary of the Treasury
Secretary of Defense
Attorney General
Secretary of the Interior
Secretary of Agriculture
Secretary of Commerce
Secretary of Labor
Secretary of Health and Human Services
Secretary of Housing and Urban Development
Secretary of Transportation
Secretary of Energy
Secretary of Education
Secretary of Veterans Affairs
Secretary of Homeland Security (pending law)

If someone wanted the Secretary of Commerce to be president, all he'd have to do is orchestrate the assassination of all those above the Sec'y of Commerce. No easy task, but the thought is a scary one.
My son did an essay on this topic, and it really captured my interest.
Presidents who died of natural causes while in office: William Henry Harrison, Zachary Taylor, Warren Harding & Franklin Roosevelt
Assassinated presidents: Abraham Lincoln, James Garfield, William McKinley & John Kennedy
Attempted assassinations: Andrew Jackson, Harry Truman, Gerald Ford & Ronald Reagan
This past May, while in Georgia (formerly part of the Soviet Union), a man tossed a grenade towards George W. Bush. It did not explode. Had he succeeded in killing our president, then Dick Cheney would currently be president, and as you know, he has a bad ticker.
Life is fragile, and the possibility that someone who is down the line of succession may step into the presidency may not be high, but it could happen.

I Haven't Been Drinking, Just Thinking

I have an innie belly button.
It's what I'm used to.
If tomorrow I wake up and have an outie belly button, it will really upset me.
Not that I'm prejudiced against outies or anything.
It's just that I would have to get used to having an abdominal protrusion where formerly there was a little hole.
Right now, if I wanted to, I could put small things into my belly button.
I could cram a mini marshmallow in there or a few pebbles. Having an outie would prohibit me from being able to do those things.
I know there must be advantages to having an outie, but I just can't think of any at the moment.
Oh, wait... There's this one.
If everyone had outies, then no one could do this:

I'm Tooting Their Horns

I've come across innovative blogs that I enjoy reading regularly. If you've never visited these, I hope you will give them a visit. Please say Jamie Dawn sent you!
1. The Phoenix is such a cool science blog. His humorous perspectives make science enjoyable. He and a lady friend, Siren, just started a new blog called Beauty versus the Beast which tackles topics from the point of view of each of the sexes. It is grrreat fun!
2. Icy is a pretty doggie. Her owner, Tom, blogs about her adventures and uses amazing computer graphics. Visit Tom & Icy for a real treat!
3. Doug of Waking Ambrose posts a word each day. Bloggers join in on a discussion about the word. Words are defined with a humorous twist, and you never know where the day's comments will end up. It's fun especially if you like word play.
4. There are two blogs authored by very funny ladies. Both post very concisely, and you are guaranteed a laugh whenever you visit. Please drop in on Ivy, the silly Texan and Woodland Creature, the master of sarcasm.
5. Mushroom started a new blog about "Everyday Stupidities." He's a computer genius, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you ask him a bunch of questions about your computer troubles, since he only deals with solving tech problems for hours every single day.

If you have time, I hope you will visit these wonderful blogs.
Remember to say: "Jamie Dawn sent me!"

Nightgown Separation Anxiety (NSA)

For years, my son would not sleep without "his nightgowns."
His nightgowns consisted of a satin nightshirt of mine and a baseball jersey of my hubby's. Taylor loved soft clothing, and he had become attached to these two items which I think represented his dad and me. He HAD to have these with him at night no matter where he was.
He even took them when he spent the night with friends. He would hide them in his sleeping bag.
It was nearly midnight one night when we got a call from him. He was at a friend's house for a sleepover, and he realized he had left his nightgowns at home. My hubby drove over there with the nightshirts in a bag along with a few video games and other items to camouflage the real reason for the late night delivery. Whew!
We went on a trip to the Redwoods, and Taylor accidentally left his beloved nightgowns in the bed at the motel.
He didn't realize it until we were home that night. He was very upset, but we saw this as a great opportunity for him to rid himself of his dependence on the nightshirts. It wasn't easy, but circumstances forced him to get over it.
"I don't know if I'll be able to go to sleep without my nightgowns!" the poor kid agonized.
It only took a few days, and he was over his great loss.
All of this sounds like the travails of a preschooler doesn't it?
How old do you think Taylor was when he was forced to endure Nightgown Separation Anxiety (NSA)?
Answer is posted in the comments.

Run! It's Ben Gay Man!

The little words on the poster read:
This is the man responsible for putting Ben Gay on my diaper rash. He told Mom it was an accident, but I never dared to have another diaper rash after that.
The saga of his abuse continued:
I was spanked as a kid, but I did not suffer permanent damage. Please don't send the cops to arrest my parents as a result of this post.
Did any of you ever have to pick a switch (tree branch) to get spanked with when you misbehaved?
When my brother and I got in trouble, we had to pick a switch which would then be used for our punishment.
Talk about mental torture!
I tried every angle. A thin, willowy switch was not good because it stung like the dickens; a thick switch was not good because it really packed a wallop. A lightweight, semi-thick switch was just right, and if you could find one that was kind of hollow, then you had it made.
The trick was to move around a lot and cry REALLY loud, and you could get away with only receiving a few passes across the back of your legs.
I once chose a switch from our lemon tree. The switch had little, bitty thorns on it that you couldn't really see (or I wouldn't have chosen it), and it left some red welts on my fat, little legs. You may think that this was a bad thing. Oooh No! This made my dad feel so terrible! He apologized profusely, nearly crying, and said that had he known it would leave marks, he never would have used it. Boy, did I milk that one! I remember saying something about child abuse, and my mom darted a look my way that said, "Knock it off!" She knew I was pummeling my guilt-ridden dad.
The truth is, I didn't get many switchings as a kid. Those were saved for the biggest transgressions.
I did not carry on the Pick-Your-Switch Tradition with my kids. All we had to do was look crossly at Courtney, and she would fall apart. She was the easy one. Taylor was a bear! He laughed at the time-out chair, and wasn't fazed much by spankings. The key for him was in these four words: Go to your room. If he was sent to his room and told that he could not play or do anything except lay on his bed, within ten minutes, he was crying for mercy and promising to never be bad again.
Have a nice weekend. Be kind to your children!

What's a Day Old Doughnut?

There's a doughnut shop about a mile from our house. I pass by it every day. By noon each day, there's a sign on the door with big, red letters that says, "Sold Out."
We live in a place where the people don't even know what a day old doughnut is. Left over doughnuts? Unheard of!
Have I ever frequented this doughnut shop?
When in Rome...

Thanks to Mike for the link that allowed me to make the above poster.

Mom Isn't So Dumb After All

Taylor wrote an essay recently, and after I read it, I informed him that there were five errors that needed fixing.
He came back a little later claiming to have read and reread his essay and had been unable to find a single error.
"Mom, there are no mistakes in my essay!"
"Take another look, Taylor."
He came back a few moments later, "Mom! There aren't any mistakes!"
He was certain that mean, old mom was just being nitpicky about things that weren't really errors at all. You know how we horrible homeschooling moms can be.
Here's one of his sentences as it should have appeared had it been error-free: They may not have signed the treaty at all.
Here's how it read when he claimed its perfection: They maw not have singed the treaty at all.
"Show me any mistakes, Mom!" I read this particular sentence aloud to him with great gusto!
"They MAW not have SINGED the treaty..." I got tickled reading it, and he got to laughing and grabbed the paper from me saying, "I don't believe you! Let me see that!"
His face was priceless.
The bewilderment, the perplexity...
It was really wrong of me to enjoy that as much as I did.

It's a Good Thing You're Cute!

Everyone thinks their kids are cute. A woman doesn't give birth and look at her newborn and say, "That is one ugly baby!" Some people have an overly high opinion of their kids. They think their kids are the cutest, smartest kids ever born. Other kids are chopped liver.
I think it's rare to find a person who thinks their own kids are ugly.
"Which child is yours?" "She's the ugly one in the red dress, third from the left."
A study was done where grocery shoppers were watched to see if cute kids were treated differently than homely kids.
Here's a quote from the study:
"The differences were striking. The researchers found that 1.2 percent of the homely children were buckled into the shopping cart, compared with 13.3 percent of the prettiest ones. When a man was in charge of shopping, none of the unattractive children were strapped into the carts, while 12.5 percent of the cute children were. Less attractive children were also allowed to wander further away and were out of sight of their parents more often."
Okay, people! This study suggests that the parents of homely kids were almost hoping their kids would get lost or hurt.
I have a few questions for those who ran the study:
1. Who judged whether kids were homely or cute?
2. Do these judges think their own kids are cute?
3. How did the cute kids treat their ugly parents?
4. Who paid for this ridiculous study?

Movin' On Up

Charmin TP comes in four roll sizes:
As you can see by the one highlighted in yellow, I purchased the Giant Rolls. Each Giant Roll equals two and a half regular rolls. I failed to purchase the Mega Rolls. One Mega Roll equals four regular rolls. You can bet I'll be moving up the Charmin ladder next time I purchase TP.
Charmin is planning to offer two larger sized rolls:
1. Humungous Roll = 6 regular rolls
Pros: These will be four-ply and ultra-absorbent, making a little paper go a long, long way. It's a steal at $14.99 for a six-roll package.
Cons: Because the paper will be so thick and absorbent, clogged toilets may be an issue. Charmin plans to attach coupons to each package for buy-one-get-one-free plungers.
2. Colossal-Mondo-Ginormous Roll = 22 1/2 regular rolls
Pros: The Colossal-Mondo-Ginormous Rolls will be sold online and delivered by forklift. Each roll will be offered in five designer colors and three designer prints, and each roll will come in your choice of unscented, fresh roses, or spring rain. Charmin will accept all major credit cards and offer a 10% discount with an order of four or more rolls.
Cons: Cost per roll is $49.99 plus tax & shipping. Most bathrooms will need to be remodeled to accommodate these rolls.

But, haven't you always wanted a larger bathroom?

Sitcom = Very Bad Movie

This idea came from MCF .

There are sitcoms that should NEVER be made into a major motion picture, not in a million years. What’s the WORST sitcom you could imagine being made into a movie? Who are the actors who should play the main characters to ensure the movie would be utterly dreadful?

Here's my choice:
I would seriously consider slitting my wrists if "Roseanne" was made into a movie.
I watched a few half hour episodes of the white-trashy, husband & children bashing show, and that was nearly unbearable.
To make the movie completely unendurable, I would cast Rosie O'Donnell (whom I actually like in a couple of movies, but who I think would play a killer Roseanne), Chris Farley (if he were alive), and any disrespecting, loud-mouthed kids to play their terribly heinous children.
Roseanne, the movie, could be used as torture to gain info. "NOooo! Please don't make me watch that again! I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!"

Have a good weekend.
What would your choice be?

Uniquely Me

I was tagged with a meme by Saurkraut. I tweaked it a bit and made it uniquely my own.
-Things I'd like to do before I die: Talk & Sing with ease again, Hold my Great-Grandbabies, Be a Multi-Millionaire
-Things I don't do well: Lie, Draw, Run
-Things that attract me to others: Sense of Humor, Kindness, Unselfishness, Good Hygiene
-Things I'm afraid of: Snakes, Spiders, The Dark, Projectile Vomit
-Things that make me laugh: Comedian Brian Regan (He is SO funny!!), My Family's Antics, Seinfeld Reruns, Fellow Bloggers

The above pic was taken by my daughter. She is LOVING her new camera! Now that she has that camera with her ALL THE TIME, we have to make sure we aren't frolicking about the house unclothed. Our nudity has been greatly curbed.

Irritating Types of People

Have you ever tried having a conversation with a Non-Listener?
Instead of listening to what you're saying, they are busy formulating what they want to say and looking for any place they can butt in. I just want to say, "Oh, don't mind me, I was only talking to you."

Have you ever tried having a conversation with a One-Upmanshipper? No matter what you bring up, they will have a bigger and better version to tell. After I say something, I might as well just say, "And now, here's so-and-so with a similar story which is certain to put my crappy story to shame."

Have you ever tried having a conversation with a Self-Lover? They always find a way to let you know how wonderful they are, and they think they are being subtle about it. I just want to say, "Would you like me to bow and worship at your feet now or when you're finished telling me how great you are?"

Have you ever tried having a conversation with a Condescender? "You mean YOU let your kids read the Harry Potter books? Don't they condone witchcraft?" "Yes. Not only have I let THEM read those evil books, but I read them as well. AND, my son knows what cow's blood tastes like!"

And lastly, but not leastly, Have you ever tried having a conversation with people who suffer from the Eeyore Syndrome? This type comes in two categories:
1. Those whose topics of conversation always center on THEIR problems. They've been cheated & mistreated and by golly, YOU'RE gonna hear about ALL of it! When talking to this type of person, I often become a Non-Listener, interrupting them and generally not making much eye contact. This upsets them, but they usually drone on anyway, so I become a One-Upmanshipper and really knock the wind out of their sails. "You've had only six surgeries?"
2. Those who focus only on the bad. "I hear you went to Europe. How was your trip?" "There was a lot of turbulence on the plane." "I hear that French food is so good." "The top of my creme brulee wasn't very crunchy."
I feel like shaking the liver out of these people and saying, "Is there ANYTHING GOOD AT ALL that has EVER happened to you?"

A Little Potty Humor

At dinner last night, Taylor informed us that years ago, after having a rather, smelly poo, he sprayed his nether-region with air freshener. "Boy, that really burned!"
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When Courtney was about two, she walked into the living room stark naked. She stood there a minute, then started to pee. The flow squirted out with formidable force, and she reached down and put her hands in the flow of the urine. "I washy hands!" she exclaimed.
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I had my first diaper rash at about one month old. Mom needed to go out for a couple of hours, so she left me with Dad.
When she returned home, she heard me screeching at the top of my lungs. Mom rushed in to see Dad scrubbing my bottom with a washcloth. With terrible angst, my dad said, "It LOOKED like the Desitin tube."
Lying next to me was a tube of Ben-Gay.
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"Hello, you've reached the Incontinence Hotline. Can you hold, please?"

Cran-Blood Juice for the Holidays

I usually buy Cran-Grape juice, but I served Cran-Apple instead the other night with dinner. Taylor took a drink, scrunched his face all up, and said, "Eeew! This tastes like cow's blood!" I am a very bad parent. I had no idea my son was involved in Satanic rituals and actually knows what cow's blood tastes like. Please pray for his soul!
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You can click to see larger versions of these holiday pics:
My brother, daughter, Dad, Me & Hubby
Me, my mom (wearing her famous socks) & Courtney
Taylor and Hubby fight with the Dollar Store weapons I put in their stockings. Tay's sword was intact, but Hubby's battle ax broke within minutes of opening the package.
Courtney was itching to use her new Cannon Rebel camera. She posed Dad, Me & Mom for this pic:

New Year's Resolutions

Happy New Year!! It's time to make those resolutions that you will faithfully keep for about one week.
The most common resolution is to lose weight.
Man has gone to the moon, learned to successfully transplant organs, performed surgery on babies in utero, made medicines that treat everything from headaches to cancer. Why can't someone make a pill that makes fat people skinny?
If you are one of those people who eats whatever you want and hardly ever exercises and still maintains a decent figure, then you may want to steer clear of me and my friends, because we outnumber you.
My New Year's Resolution is to get together those of us who must deny ourselves that third piece of pizza that we REALLY want and must sweat to death in the throes of torturous daily exercise in the pursuit of maintaining an okay body, and let's stomp the naturally skinny people to death.
We will claim it was an accident, because we were just trying to get to the front of the all-you-can-eat buffet line, and those frail waifs were trampled underfoot before anyone noticed.
There are a million diets from which to choose, but the hard truth is, for those of us that must work to avoid wearing XL, we must reduce caloric intake and partake in daily exercise. Chocolate eclairs (one of my fav desserts) must be shunned, and homage must be paid to leafy greens.
Happy 2006! May we do our best to eat wisely and exercise faithfully. May we not outgrow our jeans. And may the naturally skinny people we crush to death rest in peace.