A grocery store chain in our area has a private label brand called Fit & Active. I’ve tried a few of the products designed for “a healthier you” (the Devil’s Food Cookies are amazing) and found them to have no impact on my waistline or energy level. The only thing that got lighter was my wallet.
You don’t need a Gallop poll to tell you there are more fat people in America than skinny ones. Who’s catering to the people who want to be overweight and lay around doing nothing? That’s why I’m proposing the Unfit & Idle brand. These tasty carb-laden snacks make your body produce more serotonin, a brain chemical that induces a mild state of euphoria known as Carb-coma—making you feel happy yet groggy at the same time. How sweet is that?
If this is your first visit to Friday Flash Fiction, the little fit-to-be-tied author with an overactive imagination who ramrods this show is Louise Clairol Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a box in the writers in FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block, click here.
Heads turned as she sashayed down the pier. Ebony hair pulled into a tight bun, button-nose thrust toward the sky, she projected an aura of self-confidence. Old tars looked up from their work. Young sailors dropped their nets, mouths agape.
“She’s a perfect fifty-seven,” quipped a squint-eyed salt, admiring her lithe figure. “Nineteen, nineteen, nineteen.
“Hiya,” he calls. “You know you’re awful pretty!”
“You’re pretty awful yourself.”
“What’s your name, Sweetie?”
(under his breath) “Sounds like some kind of lubricant.
And what’s that wee thing tagging behind you?”
“My niece, Violet Oyl”
(under his breath) “Good thing I gots me snake boots on.”
Poetry, Horror, Psychological Thrillers
Stories From Within
This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
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AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
I don't write, I touch without touching.
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Stylistically Abusing Language for the Betterment of Mankind
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