"Shoop, Shoop, Shoop Shoo Be Doop Shoop Shoop" --Whitney Houston

I've noticed a small uptick in traffic here lately and I'm grateful that you take time out of your busy day to read my --how you say-- words.

But it also makes me a little bit wary. One of the problems with gaining readership is that, before you know it, you're famous. At first blush it sounds enticing... exciting... muy sexio! But think again.

Sure, it might be nice to live in hilltop houses, drivin' fifteen cars. It could be cool to have some of those houses featured on Cribs... to have a staff of people at my beck and call... to get the best tables in restaurants... to have stores open just for me... to have hunky young things throwing themselves at me... to get fancy gowns and fabulous jewels sent to me for special events...

Yeah.

Where was I?

Oh, right. I don't want to be a celebrity.




Because none of it would be worth it if I couldn't exhale on vacation.

If I were truly famous, I'd have to worry about being surreptitiously photographed for the cover of Star or The Enquirer in their "worst beach bodies" segment.

It's one thing for these rags to feature "best beach body" pictures, but when I am standing in the grocery store checkout and see that they've captured beautiful people in the worst possible photos EVER--with close ups of extra flab rolls and cottage cheese tushies, and with captions that read "Oh oh" or "Guess who?", I just feel so sorry for those people.*

It's not that I have such a bad bod. In fact, I'd say I look pretty good for ninety. But I can only deal with Jillian so many days in a row. (By the way, I've advanced to her Level 2 Workout and I'm proud to say I've cut way back on the weeping.)

Regardless, everybody has something about their bodies they're not crazy about** and everybody has at least one bad angle. If they can make tiny Reese Witherspoon look that bad, I shudder to think how I might show up. (I'm guessing with an angle that makes me look like one of those enormous sea lions, except this sea lion would probably have a handful of greasy french fries en route to her open mouth.)

And, it's not like they have to listen when you beg them, "Please! Please! Don't show my face!" So, maybe it's time to invest in a pair of these:



Yeah, that looks cool.




*And then I try to guess who they are.

**Uh, uh, you first.