How many of you have started a diet and quit? Go ahead. Hold you hand up. Noboby’s gonna slap your chubby little fingers. You’re not the first to give in to the lust for food. It happens to all of us.
When I was younger, I might have felt a twinge of temptation toward the sins of the flesh. But now, I find myself assaulted by a greater demon. One who attacks my waistline. Instead of rolling down hill like a snowball headed for hell, I’m rolling like a donut headed for a cup of coffee.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, our 100 word dietitian is Wendy McShortstuff Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this weekly exercise in madness, head over to her blog for instructions. To rent a booth in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
He was not the kind of guy most women would find attractive. Short, dumpy, bald on top, with a nose that would make a Washington apple jealous.
His demeanor leaned toward the grumpy, mad at the world, self-proclaimed victim side. His expression, a permanent frown.
“How do you like your toast?” she asked.
“Black on both sides—and no butter!”
His life was an act. They both knew it.
Constantly on the road, her love wore thin as the gossamer lace of a spider’s web. After ten years, she tired of being his clown.
“Bozo, this relationship is toast.”