What will the Republicans say about Obama in the General Election?
It's scares me, thinking of all the possibilities. I like Obama. I voted for him in our Missouri primary. But the closer he gets to sewing up the nomination the more nervous I get. I'm afraid the mud slinging will be so uncontrolled everybody will get dirty.
I heard one of the conservative radio hosts today refer to him as Barrack HUSSEIN Obama. The emphasis was pronounced, intentional, and unmistakable.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Why am I so danged fat? Can I ever lose this weight?
Let's just start this off with complete honesty. It's hard to say out loud, hard to write, still, despite the evidence of my own mirror and countless frightening photographs, hard for me to admit: I am fat. At five-foot 2 inches and 229 pounds there is no denying it. I am fat, obese, morbidly obese. Not just overweight, as I have been telling myself all these many years.
The first time I really thought about being fat, I was 19 years old. Somebody bought a new bathroom scale and several of us tested it out. My father-in-law, Ed, weighed 119 pounds. My sister-in-law, Ruby, got on the scale next. She weighed 119 pounds. Then I got on the scales, and was surprised to see I also weighed 119 pounds. My husband got on and weighed 165 pounds, so we knew the scale wasn't broken.
At about six feet tall, Ed was much too thin. At five-foot-seven, Ruby looked good. At 119 pounds she was stacked. But the same weight on my small boned five inch shorter frame left me looking pot-bellied and soft. I vowed to lose weight that very moment. An hour later when my mother-in-law served up the pot roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, and apple pie, I forgot all about it.
Over the years I have made the same vow with nearly the same results so many times I can't count them all. Sometimes I stayed with it long enough to lose a little, even as much as 20 or 30 pounds. But every time I gained it all back and then some.
Just think about it. I was overweight at 119. Now I weigh 229. That's a whole extra person I'm carrying around.
This week I joined Weight Watchers. The meetings are on Thursday evenings. Every Friday morning I will post my weight here.
Let's just start this off with complete honesty. It's hard to say out loud, hard to write, still, despite the evidence of my own mirror and countless frightening photographs, hard for me to admit: I am fat. At five-foot 2 inches and 229 pounds there is no denying it. I am fat, obese, morbidly obese. Not just overweight, as I have been telling myself all these many years.
The first time I really thought about being fat, I was 19 years old. Somebody bought a new bathroom scale and several of us tested it out. My father-in-law, Ed, weighed 119 pounds. My sister-in-law, Ruby, got on the scale next. She weighed 119 pounds. Then I got on the scales, and was surprised to see I also weighed 119 pounds. My husband got on and weighed 165 pounds, so we knew the scale wasn't broken.
At about six feet tall, Ed was much too thin. At five-foot-seven, Ruby looked good. At 119 pounds she was stacked. But the same weight on my small boned five inch shorter frame left me looking pot-bellied and soft. I vowed to lose weight that very moment. An hour later when my mother-in-law served up the pot roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, and apple pie, I forgot all about it.
Over the years I have made the same vow with nearly the same results so many times I can't count them all. Sometimes I stayed with it long enough to lose a little, even as much as 20 or 30 pounds. But every time I gained it all back and then some.
Just think about it. I was overweight at 119. Now I weigh 229. That's a whole extra person I'm carrying around.
This week I joined Weight Watchers. The meetings are on Thursday evenings. Every Friday morning I will post my weight here.
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