I have renewed my commitment to my body. I will start taking better care of it and exercising daily. I have joined Match.Com and damned if all those men don't want a "fit" person. I'm fit! Fit to be had and fit to be tied! (okay guys don't get any ideas!) I honestly didn't think I needed all that much work, but now I know differently.
I decided to finish decorating my Mardi Gras tree with a few Mardi Gras beads but they are in the attic. Of course, before I go into the attic, I remember the words of my wise old grandmother, telling me at my declining age, she wishes there would always be someone with me, in case of an untimely accident. Damn Grandma!
I chew on this for a while and call my daughter on my cell phone. I tell her I am going into the attic for beads and that I have left my door unlocked in the event that my unfit ass falls down the attic stairs, she can call the neighbor to come see about me.
Well, I didn't fall down the stairs, nor could I find any of the beads but what I did discover is, I am indeed unfit. When I came downstairs again, I was out of breath. I decided at that point that I would start an exercise program and stick to it. If I were to find a man on Match.Com, I damned sure wanted to pass out from passion rather than from being unfit.