Neck shrinking process

Too much neck

I don’t know about you, but I ate way too much during the holidays… and I was lying about not knowing about you. I know what you ate. We should be ashamed.

You more than me, ‘cause I’m getting ready to do something revolutionary. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Perhaps because I wasn’t shocked enough. Some of our more brilliant ideas come from a drastic jolt. Did you know that?

Take the steel-toed boot. People were getting their toes smashed right and left. Abstinence from dropping stuff didn’t seem to help. Sometimes you just have to drop something. Nobody could figure it out what to do. Profanity was getting way out of hand. Fortunately, a real smart person (Marvin Chafeton 1932) dropped something on his toe. A five-gallon bucket of paint. Mojave Grey.

After a brief screaming and cursing spell, Chafeton dissected a section of three and half-inch steel pipe and inserted it into the toe of his boot. His name is now synonymous with things that rub. (I think I read that on Wikipedia.)

The jolt that shocked me into my eating revolution had nothing to do with my toes. It was my neck. For decades I’ve been able to sit-down and watch TV without ever thinking about my neck. Nor my earlobes for that matter.

Then over the holidays, I was sitting in the ol’ recliner watching the history of spackle when I felt something right below my chin. What on earth? I raised my head just a bit and it was gone. Had me goin’ there for a minute.

Next thing I know it was back. Whoa! I put the program on pause and went to find Kay. She said she didn’t see anything weird below my chin. She was right, because it was gone again. So, I went straight to the restroom. The second thing I did was look in the mirror. What I saw shocked me.

My neck! What on earth had happened to my neck? It looked layered. It looked like so many other necks that I had made fun of. Somewhere in the distance of my cranials I could hear the faint singing of the “Ninny ninny noo noo” song. And, like me, the singers only knew the first verse.

I had become one of them. You know… them? Maybe one or two of you. Nothing personal, mind you. It’s just that… well, it’s not how I wanted my neck to look. If you care to see my neck, don’t look at my picture up there. All you can see there is my nose. The Newspaper photo boss is into accenting one’s most unpleasant feature. If I had a newer picture taken, they’d hone in on my neck. Look at that bubba. Just makes me sick.

The good news is, in a month or two neither of us will notice my neck. That’s ‘cause it’s gonna shrink big time. It’ll have a single layer. Like a Lorna Doone. I like Lorna Doones.

The awareness of my inflated neck inspired me to try a revolutionary approach to neck-thinning. I mentioned that way up there. In fact, I am currently involved in the process at this very moment. I waited till after the Holidays to immerse myself in this foolproof method of weight loss.

Here it is. Are you ready? I’m not going to eat again until I get down to my perfect weight. I don’t know what weight the perfect weight is, but I’ll know it when I can’t feel my neck while watching TV.

A lot of you probably think this method a bit drastic. Well, d’uh! You’ve gotta break some eggs, people. The good thing about this diet is that it only lasts a month, maybe two. I went without a nap once for a month and a half.

Obviously, I don’t thing you should jump into the two-month fast without some preparation. And, I know mean consult with your doctor. Doctors pooh pooh everything. No, what you need to do first is eat up all the snacks in the house.

I started with the cashews. Santa brought me some. I don’t know how he keeps up with stuff. For most of my life I thought it impossible to improve on the cashew. So, what does Santa do? He sends me some honey-roasted cashews. They’re… well, they’re gone. They had a sugary, salty mixture that coated the flavorful wonder that is cashew.

After that, I downed a can of popcorn that Jill got me. One of those big tin buckets. I finished off all except the caramel part of it. Caramel-bucket popcorn is not to be confused with Cracker Jacks. If it could be confused, I would’ve finished off the entire bucket.
Then I killed off the leftover Marie Callender’s Razzleberry Pie. Next to the chocolate peanut butter pie at Pie in the Sky, Razzleberry is the best pie in the world. I’ve got another Raz in the freezer to celebrate when I lose my neck.

What else? I can’t remember. I just ate every snack thing there was in the house, so I wouldn’t be tempted during my massive fast. I’m on Hour Four. Did I mention that? Four hours and six minutes.

I’m beginning to get a little swimmy-headed. Swimmy-headed is good. Each swimmy-headed experience is a sign that you’ve lost another pound. I found that fact on the Internet same place I found the history of the steel-toed boot.

I figure at this rate, I’ll be back to eating in about six weeks. Ten tops. You may not recognize the change ‘cause I doubt it will in any way affect my nose. That’s about all you can see in the photo.

Which reminds me of Tombstone. (Whoa! Where’s he goin’?) I’ve had about a dozen people -- maybe a billion -- ask to see the Hayter Brothers’ Tombstone picture that Brad did for me. It was mentioned in the last article? Anyway, I’m going to go ahead and stick it on the Rooftop webpage, ‘cause my boss is probably mad at me for griping about extremely tight photos. To see the Hayter brothers at the OK Corral go to www.fromtherooftop.net and click on “Mark’s column.” It should be there by the time you read this. – Next time… I’ll be the one that’s really swimmy-headed.

END

To see Brad and Mark’s video restaurant review of BJ’s. Click here: BJ's