IDON’T MAKE New Year’s resolutions. I know I won’t keep them anyway, so why bother? I do make a New Week’s resolution every Monday morning—to lose weight! It typically lasts until about suppertime.

I’m overweight . . . kinda fat. I like food, and not just any food; I like the bad stuff—potato chips, pie, chocolate, burgers, fries . . . . .I like the stuff that’s supposed to be good for me too—salad, vegetables, fruit, rice. . . The problem is that I like everything, and lots of it.

To make things worse, the little woman, Winnie, eats like a bird and—get this—she hates chocolate, and ice cream and cake and donuts—anything sweet, really. And I’m not saying she can take it or leave it; she really hates it. That’s just wrong, isn’t it? All I can figure is her DNA must be screwed up. There must be a misplaced sweet tooth chromosome somewhere along her double helix that distorts her sense of good vs. bad, tasty vs. repulsive. I fear I may have done irreparable damage to our species by giving in to her tireless pleas to help her reproduce. Okay, I was the one begging, but I’m just saying I feel a little bad about enabling the propagation of this defective trait to another generation.

It’s really not all my fault that I’m fat. Let’s face it, there are lots of opportunities to take in calories out there and I can resist anything . . . except temptation.

There’s even temptation at work. Candi, one of my co-workers, is a baking diva … the queen of tarts. Every Monday and Wednesday, she arrives at the office with a Chocolate Raspberry Torte, Cinnamon Sticky Buns, or some equally delicious and decadent treat. could choose not to eat her offerings, but I don’t. I really like them and it shows. Candi, on the other hand, is a hundred pounds of fitness who obviously hasn’t enjoyed a cookie or brownie in years. She’s probably too stuffed after the 16 peas and 2 teaspoons of cheese curds she scoffs down at lunch everyday.

I’ve decided I have a couple of choices. I can limit my intake to spinach, rice cakes, dried out chicken, and tofu, or I can just hang out with people fatter than me. I choose the latter option.

So, these days, I spend a lot of time at bluegrass festivals, county fairs and Small-Mart. It makes me feel better about myself and besides, fat folks are more fun than skinny people.

You have to be industrious, determined, disciplined and a bit neurotic—maybe even obsessive compulsive—to be thin. Does that sound like the kind of person you want to party with?

I’ve heard of folks who were “fat and happy”, but never heard anyone described as thin and happy. I suspect there’s a reason for that. When you picture a “jolly” person, is it a stick thin super model that comes to mind? I didn’t think so.

I did just read about a study that claimed that thin people live longer, but I’m wondering . . does it just seem longer?

I won’t be making a New Year’s resolution this year; but if I did, it would be to eat everyday as if it was the last day of my life.

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