Battlin’ de weight after Chris’mas
Well girl, I finally had to accep’ de fack dat Chris’mas gone an’ lef muh wid some extra poun’s I en had befo’ – all in de wrong places – an’ I realise ef I din tackle it fas’, I woulda ha’ to start spennin’ wuh I don’ possess fuh new clothes. But wuh really mek muh get up an’ get was when I had a glimpse o’ muhself in de bafroom mirror one mornin’, an’ t’ought it did “Miss Piggy” starin’ back at muh.
I c’n quite onderstan’ how dah coulda happen, jes’-so. Wuh, I din eat dat much at Chris’mas. True, I had a few slices o’ black cake, but it wasn’ summuch – at leas’ not to me – nor de mince pies an’ cheesecake an’ ethuh bits an’ pieces I keep pickin’ at de whole season. (I got a frien’ does mek cheesecake outta dis worl’!) Ef I overeat, so wuh! I don’ drink, an’ Chris’mas does come only once a year when evahbody should enjoy duhself. Right? Who is to know ef it en gine be yuh las’? Nowadays, bofe young an’ ole droppin’ like flies. Yuh en know ef you time ’roun’ de corner.
My “know-it-all” nighber put in she “two cents wurf” by tellin’ muh I does eat tummuch bread, an’ dah is wuh causin’ de weight. She only say so ’cause she know hummuch I like it, an’ would eat a sangwich any hour o’ de day or night. It call de “staff o’ life”, right? So whey de harm ef I decide to stock up ’pon it? Dey en neffin to beat a toasted cheese sangwich, lemmuh tell yuh.
I really c’n leh she get ’way wid talk like dat, doh. I did well know whey it was comin’ from. Evah sence she learn de computer, she fuhevah ’pon de “Net”, gi’in’ advice to anybody dat would lissen. Dat moojin believe evah word she read. So as I know she was preachin’ de “Gospel ’ccordin’ to de Net”, I had to leh she know yuh cyhan always believe evaht’ing yuh read. One minute a certain produck good fuh yuh; de nex’, dat same t’ing gine kill yuh. An’ it all come from de “Net”.
De “healf fanatic” Babsie sugges’ I should mek muh own bread as I would know exackly wuh in it. I jes’ chewpse an’ turn ’way – she know very well hummuch I dislike de kitchen. So she decide to come at muh diff’rent, smirkin’ all de time she was talkin’ – exercise. To get she offa muh back, I went to de Garrison wid she couple aft’noons, but I feel I could fin’ better t’ings to do wid my time, faif. Goin’ ’roun’ an’ roun’ de flippin’ track like some horse or de ethuh en fuh me. Yuh don’ lose dah much weight by walkin’ anyhow; it mo’ good fuh yuh heart. Dat I could well believe, when I look at certain frien’s dat been walkin’ ’roun’ an’ roun’ all las’ year an’ still look like duh nine monfs pregnant!
My niece does hol’ exercise classes, an’ I contack she to see ef she could help muh. I mek she to know straight, I refuse to be in a class wid all dem slim, young t’ings, lookin’ good, even widout exercise. No soul, nobody en gine laff at dis baby an’ wanta know which “home” I escape from. She had a class fuh people like me an’ I decide to try it. Girl, after all de stretchin’ an’ jumpin’ an’ kickin’ dah firs’ mornin’, I was so brek up, I ax muhself ef I mad an’ nearly stop, but I decide to stick wid it. I cut out “sweets” too – not bread – an’ guess wuh? Somet’ing happenin’. Babsie stop smirkin’ an’ “Miss Piggy” disappear. Praise de Lord!
Tek care o’ yuhself.
Yuh frien’, Babsie.