Oh no. Swimsuit season again . . . .

Straightforward as I am, I have always had a love/hate relationship with my swimsuits. Here’s the yearly drill: Go shopping. Look in three-way-mirror. Feel abashed. Initiate race against time. 

I’m smiling as I write this, knowing the whole business is pure folly––besides, I’m not alone.

Should crunches and kale salads threaten my morale, I think of this poem by the late comedian, Victor Buono.  (“Fat Man’s Prayer” is often mistakenly credited to Dom DeLuise.) The text is below the recording, but this poem is far better heard than read. Buono’s delivery is what makes it an American comedy classic.

The Fat Man’s Prayer

          by Victor Buono

Lord, my soul is ripped with riot,
Incited by my wicked diet.
We are what we eat, said a wise old man,
And Lord, if that’s true, I’m a garbage can!
I want to rise on Judgment Day, that’s plain,
But at my present weight, I’ll need a crane!

So grant me strength that I may not fall
Into the clutches of cholesterol.
May my flesh with carrot curls be sated
That my soul may be polyunsaturated.
And show me the light that I may bear witness
To the President’s Council on Physical Fitness.

At ol’ margarine I’ll never mutter,
For the road to hell is spread with butter.
And cake is cursed, and cream is awful,
And Satan is hiding in every waffle.
Mephistopheles lurks in provolone,
The devil is in each slice of bologna,
Beelzebub is a chocolate drop,
And Lucifer is a lollipop!

Give me this day my daily slice –
But cut it thin and toast it twice.
I beg upon my dimpled knees,
Deliver me from Jujubees.
And my when days of trial are done
And my war with malted milks is won,
Let me stand with the saints in heaven
In a shining robe – Size 37!

I can do it, Lord, if you’ll show to me
The virtues of lettuce and celery.
If you’ll teach me the evils of mayonnaise,
The sinfulness of Hollandaise
And pasta a la Milanese
And potatoes a la Lyonaise
And crisp fried chicken from the south…
Lord, if you love me, SHUT MY MOUTH!

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