An over weight woman puts her dog on a diet

I've tried all the different smart ways of losing weight: excercise, fasting, atkins, the zone, veges, juicing, watermelons, Jenny, Richard, Oprah, My Preacher, God In Heaven, support groups, a journal, the Food Pyramid, 6 meals a day, celebrity diets, mediteranean diets, hobo diets. God damnit; I tried everything.

But my dog, I love my dog. And he's really fat. See, I can't have that. He can't go away. I need my dog. I need my baby. Oh god, please, I need my best friend. Like I said, I can go away; but I gotta save my dog, so he's going on a diet. Not the shams I 've tried. Not the diets that won't work, can't work, fucking dreamy, fucking dillusional, fucking pillow talk-get in my wallet won't work. No, not those fucking diets! I mean a real diet. I'm putting my dog on a real fucking diet, starting today, " Come. Come here, boy."

Diets don't work. That's why I need something better. But what? What are the alternatives? FDA approved? The fucking pyramid, it doesn't work. I wanna try lipo. I wanna try all these alternatives. I 've seen em in the paper. I've heard about em on the radio. Hell, the radio gal, she did it. I saw the weather lady, the one with the great tits. She had the lipo and the breast augment. I want that. I want what she's got. So I want to try lipo. I wanna do it in this order. When one doesn't work, I'll move onto the next and the next. I won't stop. I can't. I can't give up, not on myself, for Christ's sake. I can't. I won't. I gotta try. First, I gotta try lipo. I gotta save up twelve hundred dollars. Then I'll have fat sucked from here and then here. Suck here. Then I'll have my guts tied, so that food won't fit.

"Wait. Ok, Honey. I know you're hungry, but you're fat. And Mamma's gotta talk. Mamma's gotta think. You sit. You sit your fat ass!"

Tie my guts first, then I'll try hypnosis. And I'll quit smoking then too. No more cigarettes. Lipo, gut strap, hypno, yoga. Nah. No yoga. Those Skinny Bitches are pretentious. But maybe weights and power walking. I wanna walk. I gotta think about it. So I'll get this low cal dog chow. I'll tell my doggie it's chow time. I'll slap my thighs. My fucking fat thighs. I'll slap em like this.

"Come here, Boy. Chow time. It's chow time." But only once a day. And only after he runs. Not sits. Runs. He's gotta get up off of the couch, run and excercise or no chow. No chow without the walk. That is it.

He'll cry. He will cry. He'll look at me. He'll look up at me with those eyes, but I won't budge. Still: No walk, No Chow. And I'll be strong. I'll be determined. Because He's my dog and I love him. I love my dog. He's fat. So he's gotta go on a diet.