New member of the family

I have a new appendage. My belly has declared its freedom. It is now, as the Brits say, “on holiday.” It has its own Independence Day. For 35 years, I have had the usual amount of limbs and have carried on quite successfully. Those days are passed. Pfffftt! Gone!

Now, I’ve never been the proud possessor of a six-pack. Never wanted it badly enough. Even in my trimmest days, my abs were, at best, a four- or five-pack. Alas, the stomach muscles have now congealed into one great lump and, as previously mentioned, are one entity. Think the UNIBROW, only the stomach version. The uni-ab. Any exercises I have done for the past few months or, years, have amounted to simply consolidating all that flab.

But the other night, while helping my fourth grader with her homework, I decided she was in dire need of a break. “Let’s get those wiggles out,” I exclaimed. We stretched and loosened, wiggled and giggled. I really got into it, man! Feeling great, I shouted, “Jumping jacks!” I bounced. My stomach bounced, about half a beat slower than the rest of me. And when I stopped, various parts of me kept moving. Whoa! “Stop, stop!” I cried to that rebellious flopping appendage.

Like the political candidate, Sarah Palin, my belly that has Gone Rogue.