Animal Control

My parents used to have a cat named Fang. He earned the name after attacking a German Shepherd in the hallway outside their New York City apartment. He died of natural causes before my parents moved to Denver. Bird made the move, though. Five years later he was killed by two dogs who cornered him along the side of our house. He could have escaped, jumped onto the fence that separated our property from the apartment building next door, but a barking dog on a nearby balcony spooked him and he froze. Read More »

Recent Postings

Oh, the panniculus!

My mother is a "fatist." She hates fat people. Okay, "hate" may be too strong a description. She's certainly never advocated that heavy people enjoy fewer rights than thin folk, but neither can she hide her disgust for anyone who is significa… » Read More

Things my mother never taught me. Part I

Throw up in the toilet. After devouring all my Christmas candy in an hour, I woke up later that night clutching my stomach. I was just six years old at the time. I had no idea what was happening to me, but I was compelled to run to the bathroom… » Read More

The 800-pound gorilla in the bathroom

I'm avoiding the scale. It's sitting under the bathroom sink, and every morning I see it. Every morning I'm reminded that I should weigh myself. I should be honest with myself. But I can't do it. Not yet, anyway. Not right now. This is my 800-poun… » Read More

The Great Weight Debate

To exercise or not to exercise? Apparently, that's the question stirring up quite a controversy lately. According to Gary Taubes (in his book, Good Calories, Bad Calories: Challenging the Conventional Wisdom on Diet, Weight Control, and Disease), … » Read More