We'll Take a Table

Welcome to my very first blog. Ever. I am writing this blog as a way to keep myself motivated on the long journey that I am about to begin. Starting the day after tomorrow, I will officially be a member of a weight loss group. I plan to finally try to get healthy. You see, I have five absolutely gorgeous grandchildren ranging in age from 7 to 2 and I plan to see each of them grow up and have children. So, in an effort to do this I have joined a weight loss support group and started this blog, Fluffy on the Beach. I live in southwest Florida and have never been to the beach in anything but jeans. And that, my friend, is just the beginning of the problems that we "fluffy" people face. 

Now for all of you normal sized people out there we fluffy people have a whole set of problems that never cross your mind. For instance, how much thought do you put into this question when asked by a seating hostess, "table or booth?" The word "booth" in a restaurant is a dirty word. We fluffy people cannot just go sit in a booth. We have to quickly scan the area, see if the seats are movable, how much space between the seat and table, and how many skinny people are sitting around to laugh at us as we squeeeezzzzeee into the booth. So after all of this thought in one millisecond, we politely answer, "table." 

Shoes that tie. Oh.....merciful......heavens! First of all, I cannot breath while I am bent over tying, so I pray that I do not pass out from loss of oxygen. I mean when someone calls the paramedics and you have to explain that the accident occurred because you were tying your shoes. Shoot me now. But if I do manage to stay conscience, there is always the fact that fluffy people tie there shoes to the inside of their foot instead of on top. So you make every concerted effort to get that knot and bow on the top of your foot. Nobody notices but you. And skinny people never think about any of this. They tie their shoes and go about their day. I hate them. Not really. However, I have to interject here one of my favorite words, Birkenstocks.

Turnstiles. Kill me now. What if I don't fit? What if I get stuck? How many people are looking? Can I go sideways? Will it help if I hold my breath? Am I going to have to embarrass myself and look for a wheelchair gate? What are all my skinny friends, who are going right on through, thinking right now? Well, here goes! So I just shut my eyes, hold my breath, and hope for the best. Made it through but not without the bar jamming into my butt. 

And speaking of my butt, dressing room mirrors. Need I say more? Even skinny people hate that 360 degree view, but put buttzilla in there and, well, there's not enough kleenex in the world to handle that drama.

Now don't get me wrong. I understand that no one forced me to become overweight. I did it to myself. McDonald's did not force feed  Big Macs to me. Pizza Hut did not put their number on my speed dial. Potato chips did not march from the bag into my mouth while I was sleeping. (But what a nice dream that would be). I take full responsibility. No more excuses. It's time for my journey into health. I hope that you will come along for the ride. It's always nice to have a friend.