Psst...My Soul For Your Snickers.

Lately, I've been contemplating what my soul is worth.  See: I would love to be thin.  I yearn to be thin with the zest of 1000 lemons.  It makes me do crazy things, I want it so badly.  I'm forced to eat raw squash & zucchini for an afternoon snack when what I really want is a Whatchamacallit.  I've contemplated knocking down small children to steal their cake, and I've actually thought about accosting the ice cream man.  I'm obligated to get on some stupid machine and jog in place, pedal while going nowhere or row myself into oblivion.  I find all these things to be deplorable.

So, while rowing away, cursing up a storm in my head...F#CK this and SH!T on that with every pull, I wonder.  Hmmm: what exactly would I barter with the devil to be thin?  Is my soul merely worth being a size 6?  Or should I add stipulations?  I want to be thin, and have chocolate never count in my diet again.    Could you imagine being able to have limitless quantities of chocolate with no recourse?  Of course I can!

In my mind, I'm whisked away to the land of Willy Wonka.  I just licked a wall!  I'm floating in his chocolate river (please though - minus that creepy boat ride).  Crap, who is that fat chick in the black bathing suit...Jesus - it is me: Row harder, row harder!  Suddenly, my vision of a candied utopia vanishes and I hear the sweaty guy next to me grunting away.  God, I hate this.  I want to give up.  I swear again - this time might have been aloud.  I receive a few stink eyes.

Row, Row, Row your boat...Although, it's not a boat.  If it were, I'd have a nice sea mist on my face.  I'd be in the sun.  I'd have a cool breeze ruffling my pink hair.  Instead, I just angrily jerked on a handle bar and dropped the F-bomb in at least five different languages.  UGH!  I think about the watermelon I ate for breakfast.  The large salad I had for lunch.  The granola I had for a snack and I pray that my @ss doesn't explode on my next pull...No wonder most vegetarians I know are pale and unsmiling - they must poop 30 times a day...

Once more I day dream, "Dear Mr. Satan - If I give you my soul, would you allow me to be thin yet still retain some womanly curves, allow me to eat copious amounts of chocolate, and make it so I never have to work out again?"  It's right about then the sweat rolls into my eye.  This time I know I cursed out loud.

I stop for a moment and wipe my brow.  It's about then that I realize that I don't REALLY want to make a deal with Lucifer.  I can do this.  I CAN!  I can be proud of myself for making healthy choices.  For teaching my kids what hard work & perseverance will get you.  For doing it even though I'd rather have dental work done (yes, seriously - dental work).

So, for the countless people I have offended with my mouth in the wonderful family establishment I am a member of, please accept my sincerest apologies; now get the FOff my rowing machine.  I'm on a mission...