In recent months, I’ve been into whole foods.
Whole bags of chips.
It might be the widow thing. I’m not sure.
So I’ve switched things up a little and now I’ve started dieting.
Although so far, nothing.
No waif-like activity.
Or concern from colleagues that I only have a few months to live.
The only positive is that for once in my life I’m finally on trend with something. Losing weight seems to be all the rage. Or at least trying to does.
I searched ‘diet books’ on Amazon, and was greeted with 104,951 ways to suck the fat right out of me.
Shouldn’t that be more than enough ways to svelte it up? Apparently not.
So I’m creating my own diet.
I call it The Goldfish Diet.
And get this!
With my diet you don’t have to count calories, or exercise, or even be bothered by portion control.
With my diet all you have to do is move!
To a smaller home.
When Swimmer started out in a bowl (a small bowl), he was a small-sized fish.
Then he moved up in the world. Spread his gills. Got himself some more square footage. Upgraded to a larger bowl.
Suddenly we’ve got Tanker on our hands.
So I got to thinking. Maybe voluminous homes make for voluminous people?
Swimmer gets bigger when he’s got the room to grow. So why not us? Maybe we grow bigger in bigger homes.
If true, imagine the relief of just having to move to a smaller home for the pounds to melt off.
Call me a guru.
A life coach.
I don’t care.
Because pretty soon you’re going to be calling me skinny.
Once the living room is boxed up.
And the house in is escrow.
Hey, it’s got to be better than cabbage, right?