I Lost Everything In The Post-natal Depression.

You Have To Love A Nation That Celebrates Its Independence Every July 4, Not With A Parade Of Guns, Tanks, And Soldiers Who File By The White House In A Show Of Strength And Muscle, But With Family Picnics Where Kids Throw Frisbees, The Potato Salad Gets Iffy, And The Flies Die From Happiness. You May Think You Have Overeaten, But It Is Patriotism.

Maybe Age Is Kinder To Us Than We Think. With My Bad Eyes, I Can't See How Bad I Look, And With My Rotten Memory, I Have A Good Excuse For Getting Out Of A Lot Of Stuff.

In Two Decades I've Lost A Total Of 789 Pounds. I Should Be Hanging From A Charm Bracelet.

I Was A Closet Pacifier Advocate. So Were Most Of My Friends. Unknown To Our Mothers, We Owned Thirty Or Forty Of Those Little Suckers That Were Placed Strategically Around The House So A Cry Could Be Silenced In Less Than Thirty Seconds. Even Though Bottles Were Boiled, Rooms Disinfected, And Germs Fought One On One, No One Seemed To Care Where The Pacifier Had Been.

A Child Needs Your Love Most When He Deserves It Least