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By Jan Marshall

YIPPIE! I just remembered the government banned trans fats that stick to our bodies eternally. Earlier, I blamed myself.

Thought I was going mad as my clothes shrunk immediately after removal from a parcel after purchase.

I mistakenly believed the fashion world was making apparel smaller than usual.

There was also the conspiracy in my own home. I often heard noise emanating from my bedroom. Yes, my clothes wanted to come out of the closet but not because they wanted to rightfully be free to be themselves. They revolted because I stretched them from here to maternity. They whispered about my fickleness.

True, I can love my frock, not be seen without it off my back for weeks but alas, when another catches my fancy and fits my fanny, the other no longer exists in my memory. I am not proud of this flaw.

Yes, my old clothes are vengeful. I haven’t had a good night's sleep in ages. I know what you are thinking.  Well, you’d be paranoid, too, if your clothes were mean-spirited. They continually fall off the hangers or catch on to one another. They play hide-and-seek when they know I am in a hurry.

Thus, my need for therapy.

My therapist, Dr. Plink, (not her actual name but the sound the ice cubes made as she poured herself a drink each session) was developing a tick. She often sighed. She suggested I go on a soul journey to find my inner answers. If only I knew the questions.

I hopped instead on a train to the Svelte or Not Svelte retreat in Las Vega hoping to reveal a truth — that if I’m thin, I can’t win, and being fat is where its at, mon. I was off to search for serenity and a bagel.  

Lulled by the train’s hum, I fantasized a perfect party for my return. I’d invite Johnnie Walker, Mama Celeste plus Two Guys from Italy and Haagen-Dasz.  I was planning my welcome home banquet in the kitchen of my mind. 

On my spiritual quest, I’d find out what it was all about and tell Alfie or Entertainment Tonight.

Just then a smiling man whispered, “Lady, show me your ticket.”

I’m a seasoned dame. I knew what that meant.

I would be heading to enlightenment and not be going solo.

Adios, dieting. Bye Bye, Spanx.

So, so long suckers. It is over … and it’s not me; it's you.

— Jan Marshall

Jan Marshall’s life’s work is devoted to humor and healing through books, columns and consulting. A humorist and television host, she is a Certified Master Hypnotherapist. In 1986 she founded the International Humor & Healing Institute. Her board members included Norman Cousins, Steve Allen, Dr. Bernie Siegel and John Cleese, plus other physicians and entertainers. She wrote the satirical survival book, Dancin’ Schmancin’ with the Scars: Finding the Humor No Matter What! As a survivor, she donates a percentage of book profits to the American Cancer Society, American Brain Tumor Association, Wounded Warriors and The Laguna Woods Village Foundation. She's also written two children's books, The Littlest Hero and The Toothbush Who Tried To Get Away.