Weight, weight…(don’t tell me)
Today I realised that I’m heavier than my family.
No, I don’t mean merely that I am the heaviest person within my family, but rather that I’m heavier than my family. All of them. Com-bined.
Sure, three of them are pretty tiny (5 years, 3 years and 6 months old) and I’m 6’3”, but still, that’s a pretty ridiculous statistic, right? At the local park, I could sit on one end of the see-saw with all four of them huddled at the other end - and they’d still be in the air.
So I see three main ways to address this imbalance:
1. Force-feed Melly! (sabotage her with a surreptitious cookie-dough I.V. drip when she’s sleeping?)
2. Have five or six more children! (bound to tip the stats back in my favour)
3. Y’know…umm…maybe lose some frickin’ weight you ridiculous caricature make some positive and difficult changes.
I don’t think it’s supposed to be this way.
It wasn’t always this way.
It won’t always be this way.
See-ya soon, see-saws.
