Barnie is the Michelin Man

     As Edward was eating a tuna sandwich at 10 this morning, he announced with glee that if he managed his schedule properly, he thought he would be able to consume 6 meals today.
     It's nice to have goals.
     My hope is to have lunch without seeing it on my body before dinner. 
     As I age, I feel increasingly helpless to lose weight and maintain muscle mass.  And yet I refuse to surrender.  If ever I am seen wearing a product called Pajama Jeans - apparently a pair of pants that bear a resemblance to jeans that are made with an elastic waist and such stretchy material that they are pajama-like in appearance and feel - I would hope it's at a costume party.  If not, then it will be clear that I have lost the skirmish, the battle, the war.  Well, what's the point of living, if you're living it in Pajama Jeans?
      Once when I was sliding into the chair at my hair salon, I jokingly said to my sylist, "I can't decide whether to have plastic surgery on my face or my body."  Now why I said this, I don't know.  Why I thought it was funny, I don't know.  I suppose I was looking for some kind of response like, "Why would you touch a face and body that are already perfection?"  But instead, I got, "Oh, do your face first, it's much easier to hide your body."  Huh?
       I spent the rest of the time at the salon contemplating my face and all its imperfections.  And what, short of a burkha, could I wear to hide my body?
      I avoided the entire problem by buying a pocketbook.