Tomorrow morning is my annual physical. I don't really expect a miracle, but it would be lovely if I could lose around 30 pounds over the next twenty-four hours. Here is my plan of attack:

First, I will think about it a lot. A LOT. Studies have shown (well, the studies in my imaginary laboratory) that thinking about being skinnier causes it to actually happen. No joke. They've also shown that cake is good for your heart, and that beer actually increases your brain size, making everything you say more intelligent and also making you much cleverer than you were sans alcohol.

Secondly, I will think very hard about exercising. Even if I don't actually drag my butt out and do it, the thinking is very powerful (see above).

I don't really have a third. I guess I'm just expecting one and two to take care of it.

Crap.

Oh, well. I can always fall back on the, "Why, no! I didn't realize that I have a weight problem. What do you suggest?" That always makes the doctor feel really smart and good, as if she's the first person to discover my ginormousness. The tricky part is to say it without even a hint of sarcasm. I guess I can work on that today. 

Tomorrow's going to be sweet.