Last week four people told me how to lose weight. The check out guy at the supermarket helped me to my car with my groceries. On the way there I complained about my old aches and pains. “You should join the gym. Bally’s is just down the street. It’s just $30 bucks a month.”
“Uh, thanks.”
Then I went to the doggie park. And I grunted as I sat down at the picnic table.
“Have you heard about the South Beach Diet?” This perky young thing told me.
"The South Park what?”
"The South Beach diet. You get to eat pretty much whatever you want and you lose weight.”
She was so helpful, so … so breasts in their right position.
I hadn’t even mentioned that I wanted to lose weight.
Then I did an interview with a poet, Stellasue Lee, and I made the mistake of asking how she kept fit. Well, of course, I did want to know; the woman works non stop and well, she ’s exceedingly healthy. You can tell by the way her fiancé smiles. She told me about this “whey” stuff. “they sell it at Trader Joe’s. Make sure you ask for the…” here’s where I have to check my notes because I can not remember what stuff she told me about. She took me to a local restaurant and we had a delicious soup and salad that was filling, but “It’s just healthy.”

The next day there was an exposé on TV about the local health clubs and how they charge different prices per victim, uh, potential member.
I didn ’t sign up. I’m not sure I can afford an hour of time each month or $30 or whatever-they-can-get dollars. But I keep hearing Stellasue saying, “You have to make time. It really pays off in the end result,” and then she smiles.

I’m fat. I like to think that I am fluffy, but I’m just fat. All of my aunts were fat when I was a stick of a kid in Pennsylvania. I’m not sure where the fat comes from. I thought it was from birthing babies. But my babies are old enough to be married, and I’m still Mrs. Chub. But then I was in a store, and I saw a laughing Buddha, and I started thinking.
You know, no one ever questions why Buddha is fat. No one ever says, “Hey lard ass!” to Buddha. No one ever questions his attractive qualities. They just rub his belly for good luck and giggle. Buddha is a FAT DUDE! He’s HUGE! He’s not just a tub of lard he’s the WHOLE FACTORY!
I am a pimple in comparison.

So I decided to give myself a break, a Buddha Break. Right now, I am taking residence in a Buddha wannabee body. This might be a good thing. It might bring me to a new level of meditation. I mean, why is Buddha fat? Maybe it’s what’s needed? Maybe to get to that place in yourself that is so like Nirvana you have to become sedentary. You have to sit, take a Buddha break and relax into well being.

I feel better.
Okay, I bought the whey, but I feel better now that I know I’m Buddha in training. And it’s true, I am happy.
The whey and the path are one.

Buddha say, email Carol Wood at Carol@hazelst.com And tell her your health tip.

(Can't you just hear the Mission Impossible music?)do, do, do....