January 1994 – Sincerely Sire Newsletter
THE FEAST IS FINISHED
Thank goodness the season to be eatin' is over. Every year I consume
more and more and more and . . . If the holidays would've lasted just one
more week I could have joined the circus as the Radically Rotund Realtor.
The problem is this. I have a healthy appetite and six brothers and
sisters. They all wanted me to come over and visit and eat, but mostly
to eat. They each have their own specialty. My sister Laura makes the
best potato salad ever; Phoebe, exceptional egg rancheros; Sukie (yes
Sukie) makes delicious deserts; Amanda, mashed potatoes; George,
hamburgers; and my brother Dave buys the finest imported beer. And all
the while, my wife, Rosemarie, is at home cooking the butterball turkey
with stuffing, as well as her own little specialty dishes to fill in the
gaps. Well, let me tell you, all my gaps have been filled. I feel like
an inflated driver's side air bag.
So now the feast is finished and so, nearly, am I. There's no more
notches left in the old belt. Yes, I have the dreaded Dunlap disease
(you know, where your belly dun laps over your belt).
In an attempt to deflate I've gone back to the gym. I'm dieting too.
It's been very tough (whoever put the "t" in "dieting" was trying to fool
us). I've lost four pounds so far. They've gone kicking, screaming, and
dragging their chubby little feet all the way. And they haven't left the
house yet, they're hiding in the 'fridge, waiting to make a comeback. The
evening is the worst time for me not to scarf. I kind of go crazy once
the sun goes down (although sitting here this morning I'm getting pretty
darn hungry right now and it's hard to keep my mind focused while writing
this piece of pie).
I've been on a low fat diet. No cheese, no sour cream, no butter, no
cookies, no cake, no steak, no gravy, no ice cream - - - NO LIFE! It
seems like all I can eat is RICE. Yeah, that's it. That's what they
ought to call it. The NO LIFE, MO RICE diet. I can't help it. I get
emotional. It's not funny. It reminds me of when my daughters were
babies and I had to get up with them every night for hours at a time.
I used to work all day and stay up all night with my girls. I'd stagger
into work bleary eyed and weak and people would laugh and say, "Oh, isn't
that cute, he has babies that keep him up all night." But it wasn't
funny then and it's not funny now. I'm weak and I'm HUNGRY!! But I want
to lose at least another fifteen pounds. I really, really do.
So next month if I come by your home with my newsletter some evening, and
I'm salivating heavily and looking forlorn and hungry, don't let me fool
you. (And should you happen to be in the middle of cooking dinner, don't
open the door at all unless you want me to eat it.) I really do want to
lose this weight, and I need your help. If at all possible, do not feed
me. But if you find yourself weakening and feeling sorry for me, and
absolutely can't resist feeding me something, then just give me a small
bowl of natural whole grain brown rice. Then start softly chanting at
me - - - NO LIFE, MO RICE, NO LIFE, MO RICE, NO LIFE, MO RICE.