I feel conspicuous today, as if everyone is staring at me. I feel fat and ugly. Oh wait, I know why I feel that way--I am fat!

Yes. It's true. Remember the old days, when you felt like you could go out and run a marathon? (Yeah, me neither.) Well, that's not me anymore. I'm slow; my body is too heavy to just walk around without a care. Flinging all my flesh around takes too much effort.

Okay. I exaggerate a little. But I really did look down at my bulging stomach this morning and worry that someone at work might think I'm pregnant. All my friends know that I haven't even had a date recently, let alone what it takes to become impregnated. (And they also know I'm a chaste, moral person. I think.) But the people at work have no idea. So it wouldn't be shocking if I were pregnant.

Everyone should know you don't ask a woman if she's pregnant unless you pretty much already know the answer. (Dave Barry said you should never ask a woman if she's expecting unless you see a baby actually emerging from her. Something like that.) But despite warnings from humor columnists, some people are tactless and brutal.

Someone at church once asked my sister if she was pregnant. "No. I'm just fat." Yeah. Bet the lady felt stupid. And I'm sure my sister felt even worse.

I've never actually been fat before. I used to think I was fat (even when I was a skinny teenager. How disgusting.) Now I really am overweight, and I don't exactly know what to do about it.

And I know for sure that nothing will be done about it until the new year begins. There's just too much good food out there at this time of year to have any self-control.

Also, why am I writing this? I should be scribbling furiously on my unsent Christmas cards. Okay, this is me, over and out.

Song on my soundtrack: Some Days Are Better Than Others, U2

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