Solutions in Resolutions

The universal feast of consumptions over now we collectively, like lemmings, rush into the new year with plans to alter the shape of our bodies. My girl friend and I were talking about our crazy years and shared some laughs about what used to be, to us, serious business. She had marvelous boobs back then, but years and gravity have made her my bosom buddy. We had abs and quads instead of bellys and butts. Now we have degenerative arthritis and tummys and our waists are "girths". What an ugly word. Reminds me of another friend who hated the word obese because it sounded oooooooooobeeeeeeeese! Now firm butts have become satchels and triceps are wings that flap when we do jumping jacks.
We've, my friend and I, have been through a lot together; Weight Watchers, TOPS, CURVES, aerobics, yoga, kickboxing, water aerobics, jogging, running, walking and now strolling. We have enough equipment between us to start our own fitness center if we weren't using it for clothes hangers.
We tried South Beach, Atkins, Cabbage soup, Fit for Life, Jane Fonda, Jack LaLane and Richard Simmons. We recently sold the videos, books and CDs in a garage sale and used the funds to go to bingo at the senior center.
We used to get on the scale and write those incriminating numbers on our calendars so our families could chide us for failing to keep the dietary promises we made each January and renewed after Valentine Day, and Easter and Mother's Day and the Fourth of July and many birthday bashes and onward to Halloween and Thanksgiving and finally into the valley of eggnog.
Now we eat what we want and stay pretty much the same weight. "Let's meet for lunch" is the rallying cry. Do breakfast, not slimfast, is our motto!
What is the point of getting to the golden years if you can't eat with enjoyment. The elderly have very little left they can do for fun. Can't afford a movie and if they did they couldn't afford the $10 medium-sized popcorn, and why go to a movie if you can't have popcorn. You know they say our taste buds will die but the last one to go is the sweet one, so maybe we should toast our existence while we can still taste the toast.
No more closet dividers separating the sizes, everything fits now. We have discovered elastic waists and sweats. Queen size? Why not. Sounds like royalty to me. Junior sizes are for junior girls or little old ladies with crepe paper necks.
So I tell my bosom friend, "Hey, relax and enjoy the rest of the trip." We may have lost our baby fat like the proverbial kittens who found what they lost and were rewarded with pie.
Besides, I heard they cut the back of your dress down the middle before they put you in the coffin.