At work, we're having a Biggest Loser competition, and I've decided to enter. I've always been a bear in the winter months (eat more, sleep more, grow more body hair), but this year has been especially bad. At 168 pounds, I'm heavier now than I have ever been. (You know it's bad when wearing a tie gives your neck a muffin top.) If I don't do something about it soon, I won't be any use on the dragon boat team this summer except as ballast.
Also, Alison has been skating much more lately, has shed a lot of weight, and is enjoying the confidence (and men's glances) that has come with it. She has been trying to get me to eat better and exercise so I can "join her in Sexyland."
Yes, she actually said Sexyland.
The problem with an invitation to move to Sexyland by one of its self-proclaimed residents is that I don't really find the idea of obtaining citizenship all that motivating. You see, I already know someone from Sexyland, and she often visits me in Dumplingtown. (And yes, those visits can include the conjugal variety.) So, if Alison is already willing to go slumming with a denizen from the dark and seedy (well, pudgy anyway) underbelly of Dumplingtown without me having to give up the other women in my life (i.e. Little Debbie, Sara Lee, and Dairy Queen), why would I want to emigrate?
Besides, even after I lose the extra pounds, I still expect to be stopped at Sexyland's borders.
Sadly, no amount of weight loss cures homely.