| "AMERICA'S FUNNIEST HUMOR"TM
SHOWCASE
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August /
September 2006 Contest Results |
Dueling
Dieters
By Vicky DeCoster,
Nebraska
“Honey,” my
husband said one morning, “The scale is broken. It says I weigh three
pounds more than I should.”
I walked into our bathroom and stepped on the scale. “You’re right!” I
gasped. “I’m five pounds over!”
I drove to the store and bought a new
scale. I hopped on first and grumbled, “It still says I’m five pounds
over.”
I stepped off and kicked the side of the scale. I stepped back on
with just one foot.
“It needs some adjusting,” my husband said as he pulled me off and
stepped on the scale.
He sighed, “Two faulty scales in one morning?”
I commented, “I think the only thing that needs adjusting is our
portions.”
With that said, we began our new life as middle-aged dueling
dieters with metabolisms that have been absent from our bodies for so
long they should be listed as “missing” on the side of a milk carton.
The first day went terrific. The egg white and banana shakes I made us
for breakfast filled us up for 12 minutes. As a result, lunchtime
arrived a little earlier than usual. By mid-morning, we each ate a salad
with two ounces of tuna.
“This is delicious!” my husband exclaimed as he
licked the salad plate clean. “I’ve only consumed 650 calories today!”
By 3:00, we had finished our broiled chicken breast and broccoli spears.
I rubbed my stomach, “I’m not even hungry at all!”
At 6:00 p.m., my husband said, “Ready to turn in? After all, there’s no
point in staying up if we can’t snack.”
We went to bed. I dreamt that my
pillow turned into a hot fudge sundae. The next morning, my pillow was
in shreds and some of the shreds were missing.
I muttered, “I wonder how many calories are in pillowcases?”
I glanced
at my sleeping husband. He was feasting on his arm like it was a chicken
drumstick.
By day 15, the situation had turned precarious. Small and boring
portions had been consumed without any significant weight loss. After
dinner one night, my husband said, “I’m going to the convenience store
to put gas in your car.”
“But you just put gas in my car last night,” I retorted.
“I’ll be right back,” he answered as he ran out the door. A few minutes
later, he returned with a smile broader than my hips.
“How’s it going,
honey bunny?” he asked sweetly.
“Let me smell your breath,” I demanded.
“ “I’ve done nothing wrong, ” he grinned guiltily.
“Your teeth are covered in Oreo cookie crumbs!” I shouted.
“So!” he yelled back, “I can’t survive on bean sprout sandwiches and
rice cakes for the rest of my life. A man needs his meat and potatoes or
he’ll dry up and blow away and then who will kill big bugs for you?”
He
had a point.
“I’m getting a drink of water,” I announced. I felt his eyes following
me into the kitchen as I reached in the cupboard for a glass. He turned
back to the television as I tried to quietly unwrap the piece of candy I
had hidden inside a coffee cup. It was like trying to unwrap candy
during communion in church. The neighbors two houses down heard me.
Suddenly, my husband was standing behind me.
“Open your mouth,” he demanded.
I whimpered, “It’s just a caramel nib.”
“They’re called caramel nips!” he shouted, “Like Nipsey Russell!”
I
quickly started chewing my candy.
He bellowed, “Stop that chewing. You’re making me hungry again!”
I sat my husband down. “Tell me again why we’re dieting? I’m too
delirious from hunger to think rationally.”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’ve only lost inches from my ear
cartilage.”
“I lost half an inch from my big toe,” I gloomily added.
“Your big toe looks great,” he complimented.
I brightened up. “I think your skinny ear lobes really thin out your
face.”
“Oh stop,” he glowed.
“Let’s just accept our bodies for what they are and stop this silly
diet,” I said as we embraced. “I love you just the way you are,” I
whispered near his lean ear lobe.
He placed his big toes on top of mine.
“Careful,” I warned with a smile, “They’re so petite now.”
We came to a silent agreement that night as I held on tightly to his
love handles and he firmly grasped my broad hips -– a scale could never
weigh the importance of unconditional love.
www.wackywomanhood.com
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