dear jon

This guy I know named Jon is on a quest to lose weight. And yesterday, Jon, in his blog, took a picture of his scales as he stood perched on them, camera-in-hand. Thankfully, the picture only showed Jon's bare ankles and feet, but Jon went on to say what I most feared—that he was also naked from the ankles up.

Frankly, Jon, I really didn't need to know that.

There aren't many people in this world I want to think about being naked. Not many people at all. The list is short. Very, very short. Did you hear that, Jon?

As far as I'm concerned, everybody in the world pops out of bed like Kleenex fully clothed, refreshed, and ready for the day. There are no clothing changes. No potty breaks. No wardrobe malfunctions. No showering or disrobing of any kind. Nothing. Nada. Zippo.

Everybody gets out of bed and just flies. And if they do anything else, I don't want to think about it. I.don't.want.to think about it. No way. No how.

But now my Pollyanna image of the world is blown to bits, Jon. And I'm not sure I can withstand the images running through my head.

Of course, you know my quest for thinness too, Jon. I'm working hard to beat the bulge. And like you, I stand on my scales every morning in baited anticipation wondering how I fared from the day before. Oh, but, Jon, I am not like you. No, I am not. When I stand on my scales, I am fully clothed. That's how I like for people to think about me, Jon, fully clothed.

I appeal to the mathematician in you, Jon. Here's how I reconcile the weight of my night clothes during my morning weigh in. One day, after I weighed myself fully clothed, I walked to my kitchen, still fully clothed, and assembled my night clothes atop my kitchen scales and weighed them. And just to clarify, in the comfort of my own kitchen, I was, in fact, fully clothed. What I found there in my kitchen is that a typical set of my evening attire weighs right at one pound. So each morning, I dutifully weigh myself and subtract one pound for the clothes I have on my person. Ingenious, huh, Jon? Don't you wish you were me?

Cuz I'd much rather be somebody else right now, Jon. As I mentioned before, there aren't many people in this world I want to think about being naked. Dare I be so bold to say that unless you are a cute little kid or my husband, the thought of you being naked should never cross my mind.

I think I'm going to need therapy, Jon. Please don't bare your ankles to me again, Jon. I'm not sure I could stand it. As far as I'm concerned, you've never been naked a single day in your life. This is my mind, and I don't want you running naked through it, thankyouverymuch. Get out of here, and put some clothes on before you catch cold.

link: ray stevens (great one, donna)

to all the blogs i've loved before

Well, SHE started it. I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for her. If you must blame somebody, blame her. She's tough. She can take it. She's also rather smart, witty, talented and good-looking.

Is anybody else getting queasy? Cuz I'm not sure I can go on like this.

Yeah, she blogs. She's amazing. Check it out. You'll hang on every word. You won't be able to put it down.

Then her Latin lover husband starts up. Oh now, he's really something. Very funny when he's not being gross. ( He's such a man. 8-| ) And he makes some good points too. The man's got skillz. And his testimony will knock your socks off.

More recently, I've come across Sasha. Oh, Sasha, how can I ever measure up to her? I'm all disheveled and disorganized, and she's so NOT. I stand back in awe and laugh a little in spite of myself. Laugh a lot actually.

Oh, that reminds me. Now it is time for a totally solicited on Sasha's part but purely shameless on my part deviation from my current line of thought. Sasha is giving away a suhweet necklace with a velvety ribbon that I am just dying to rub through my fingers. (I wonder if it is as soft as a calf nut sac?)

And speaking of calf nuts, you gotta meet Ree. She's the Pioneer Woman. Annie, get yer gun and grab a cappuccino. If there was ever one who would inspire me to write the Great American Novel, it is Ree. As if it wasn't hard enough to live up to her, she's a redhead to boot. As if!

And an honorable mention shout-out (I miss you, Sarah.) goes to a "guy named Jon." He's fun-loving, and he introduced me to woot. (sniff, sniff - A moment, please.) Ahem. Geeks, unite!

Well, there you have it. They are why I am here, doing this. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be here. So don't blame me. The bloggers made me do it.

link: flip wilson, willie nelson & julio iglesias