It's been two weeks since I started my weight losing project, and I hadn't heard from Ivey until just this morning when I stepped out of the shower.

"OK, Lard ass, step on the scales and let's see how you're doing with the weight loss," she said.

"Screw you, I'm not good awake yet.  Besides, I've got to run down to Austin today, and I don't have time to fart around with you."

"You're just a chicken, that's all.  You look just as fat as ever to me.  My guess is you haven't lost a pound.  And I've been noticing that you're still eating way too much.  And what's the deal with the big dinner at the Italian restaurant the other night?"

"I was with friends I hadn't seen in a while, and you can't be unsociable and not eat when you're out with friends," I said.

"You ate enough for two guys . . . and you can't lose weight doing that," Ivey said.

"That was just the one time.  I've been eating just one big meal a day, nibbling the rest of the time.  And, I've cut out snacks."

"Then get on the scales and let's see how you're doing."

"OK, I'll do it . . . if you'll shut up for another two weeks."

"Deal," Ivey said.

So . . . I waddled over to the scales and stepped on.  That's when I saw it:

248

That's ten pounds lighter than two weeks ago.  I had to rub it in.  "Do you see that, big mouth?  Huh?  Huh?" I asked.

I didn't get a response.  At least now I know how to shut Ivey up.  She hates it when she's wrong.

C. Duhon, 5/4/08