January 1994 Sincerely Sire Newsletter




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



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