Okay, let me just say this right away. I’m not fat. I’m pleasantly plump. I just want to get back to my “before three kids” body. I mean, I used to be a cheerleader for Pete’s sake. I don’t work, so I might as well do a bit of excercise. I mean, it can’t be that hard to lose a couple of pounds.

Step one, find the weights. I walk through the kitchen towards the basement door, grabbing a Twinkie off the counter. Once I get to the door, I turn my body sideways and squeeze through the narrow frame. I take the stairs one at a time, grabbing the rail for support. Once I reach the bottom, I’m slightly out of breath, but that’s just my allergies. I mean, come on, I’m not that out of shape.

I rummage around for a bit, until, alas, I find the box of weights. I squat down to pick it up, only to realize that I can’t get back up (I’ve always had a bad back). I push off from the wall trying to propel my self up, only to tip straight back.

I’m not fat, I just don’t have good balance.