This is Biff Spiffy's entry for Part 1 of The Assignment
Why am I doing this? I won’t miss 35, 45, or maybe even 70 lbs. The first 35 is just to get started. Those are the pounds and pounds of fat cells that cling to my belly, my chin, my back, shoulders, and butt. They shake when I do jumping jacks and continue twirling left when I want to twirl right. They make it hard to get down an airplane aisle, between party guests in the kitchen, and to touch my toes. That is the worst; when my own gut sprawls uncomfortably on my lap when I untie my shoes.
I’m not cameraphobic; generally I don’t mind posing for friends and family, because photos are so valuable to memories. However, I don’t like to look too closely, for I may find my belly in a relaxed state or a chin not pulled sufficiently tight. I will draw the line at swimming pictures, because frankly, nobody wants to see manboobs.
This winter I’ve pulled on favorite sweaters and felt like a giant fuzzy sack of leaves, with plump little arms sticking out. A coworker emphatically told me never to wear one outfit again, as it made my normally large head look unusually tiny. This should not happen.
There was a time when I would run for miles, stretch out on the floor until my nose touched my knees, and lift incredible amounts of weight. Those activities are half a lifetime ago, and I will no longer live as though my best days are behind me. Damn the remote, I’m going running.