Lose a Fatty

Pooh knows what's up. For the second time in less than a year, someone clearly suffering from a mental illness has made a snide comment about my weight. And I. Am. Done. On a work trip to Chicago last spring, a panhandler approached me for money. I said no, he said, "Maybe you should think about losing some weight." Assface. I got super upset and anxious, didn't enjoy the rest of my trip to the Windy City, came home and lost 30 pounds. Last night, I started a volunteer gig at a store that specializes in fair trade items. Some dude came in who thought he was Kenyan. (He was not Kenyan.) He had been thrown out of the store Saturday for being a problem and was angry with the woman training me, who had been the thrower-outer. He started out seeming harmless, but grew increasingly belligerent. Eventually, we had to close 30 minutes early to get him out of the store. We also had to call the police. But at one point, he looked at me and said, "You're twice

During past Lents, I've tried to blog almost daily. That's not my goal this year, although I have laid off the ol' Facebook once more. I can't believe how visceral a reaction withdrawal is from that social media platform. It's worse than the sugar cravings gnawing at me, since I'm also giving up junk food. Everyone is probably talking about me and having fun without me. Ah well. Moving on. While I'm a "writer" at work, I don't always write. I manage a few stories a semester, when I'm not editing others peoples' stuff and making sure our web site works. So when I do have the chance to write, I get nervous. Like crazy nervous. What if I've lost my knack for storytelling? What if I can't find the words. WHAT IF I'LL NEVER WRITE AGAIN? So you plod along and put words together into sentences, and organize those sentences into interesting paragraphs. You can't take Facebook or snack breaks, because you've given up bo