My little puppy dog is not fat.
His head is just getting smaller.
And I just got my hair cut.
That's why Hunter only has one collar that slides on and off easily. And why I can only button a couple buttons on my favorite flannel shirt.
And it's January.
January always pops up out of nowhere doesn't it?
Right after cookie butt season, as my sweet Sven calls it.
But it is January.
And 2019 is going to be one heck of a year.
In case you haven't bumped into my tall, dark and handsome, financial advisor lately. Been watching the nightly news. Or heard me screaming from the mountain top,"I am going to retire!"
I am going to retire.
You see, I, me, Millie Noe, will be turning sixty-two.
And sixty-two is the new twenty-one.
So, when my birthday rolls around on the thirteenth of March, there will be one big party.
A red-carpet affair.
A regular Hawaiian luau.
Get out your disco balls.
Grab your foosball shoes.
And put on your coconut bras.
Because we are going to celebrate.
Maybe play a little pin the tail on the donkey.
Maybe ride a couple circus elephants.
And probably run in a few gunny sack races.
Or maybe we'll just order pizza.
But no matter what, there will be cake.
Because there is always cake.
But of course, Hunter and I will not partake.
Because Hunter and I will be on a diet.
Although we did read in that magazine the other day that when you diet you should not deny yourself everything.
You are supposed to treat yourself every now and then.
They practically demand that you do.
It's called cheating.
Well, if we do cheat.
And we will cheat.
I am still going to skip that cake.
Giselle can have the cake.
Hunter will take the cake.
But not me.
I am going to dive right into that bowl of sour cream and cheddar chips. And yes. I will dip those babies right into the French onion.
And so will Hunter.
Do you want to know what I said just the other morning?
"What's that Louisa?"
My sister is talking.
She just told me to shut up.
A) My mother always told us that we were supposed to politely ask a person to, "please be quiet."
And 2) My mother always told us that we were never supposed to tell anybody to, "shut up."
"Well, maybe you should shut up, Louisa."
As I was starting to say.
The other day when I was sitting at my desk before the sun was even up yet, I said to my coworkers, "Do you know what I am going to miss when I'm retired?"
They did not.
"I am going to miss having potato chips and coffee for breakfast every morning."
That was pretty deep.
And here is another deep subject.
Life is all about the Yin and Yang of it.
Because while I am super excited about this new year.
Hunter is not.
Hunter hates January.
Dreads the entire month.
But that is only because his yearly physical rolls around every January.
His timing could not be any worse.
And I am afraid that this year, not only will we go through all of the normal anxiety that comes with this annual event, like just getting all three of us all into the car.
Like getting all three of us through the front door of that building.
Like someone whizzing on the waiting room floor.
Like somebody refusing to go into the exam room.
Like somebody snapping at those nice people, through a muzzle, who are sticking him with needles.
Not to mention that humongous bill at the end of all the entertainment.
Those bastards are going to have my Hunter Bunter step on that scale.
Oh, dear God.
My puppy dog is not fat.
His head is just getting smaller.
And of course, we are planning to work out.