Dear Diet Karma; We Need to Talk

Dear Diet Karma,

I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but it’s a new year now and I feel the time has come for us to set those differences aside and work together toward a common end.  Specifically, my end.  The rear one.

The standard science behind the loss and gain of weight is, of course, the ratio of caloric intake to caloric burn.  But the details of that seem to contain inconsistencies; for instance, number of calories in pure fat vs. body fat.  Not telling you how to do your job, just saying there’s obviously room for some discretionary allowances on your part.  That being said, I would like to request that I be given a weight-gain pass on consumption of the following items:


This candy was brought into my home for the sole purpose of making children happy.  It was never about me; it was about having the means to help create precious and priceless memories for the world’s most valuable resource, our children.  I hardly think I’m to blame for the fact that only three of our most valuable resources availed themselves of this memory-making opportunity.  Perhaps I could have bought less than 5 bags.  Perhaps someday I’ll be the kind of person who thinks it’s possible for children to be too happy.  But until I am that kind of short-sighted narrow-hearted cynic, this candy has to go somewhere, and quickly.  Do you really want my mother to walk into my apartment and wonder why, in the middle of January, there is a large bowl of peanut butter pumpkins and fudgy skulls sitting on my coffee table?


I know what you’re going to say; our local schools aren’t the foundation on which the future is built, the soil in which the seeds of a brighter tomorrow are sown, the first step on the path to the young mind’s realization of its full potential and the actualization thereof, the best shot we have of keeping the world from going even more to hell than it already has.

Oh, you weren’t going to say that?  Good.  Then those five bars go nowhere near my ass, right?  And yes, it was five bars, because I didn’t have any small bills and I was those kids’ first sale, so they didn’t have any change.  What was I supposed to say?  “Sorry, come back when you’re already successful”?

And finally…


Or, you know, I can just print up a bunch of “Merry Christmas, I don’t love you anymore!” cards with frolicking songbirds and happy snowmen on them.  Either way.  I probably never have to see these people again anyway, right?
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