Skip to content
October 14, 2009 / dcwisdom

I’ve Got to Lose Weight – Part I

This was a humorous speech I gave in Toastmasters which awarded me first place through club, area, and division contests. I did not win the big district trophy, however. Waaa… My daughter has encouraged me to write it out for you since it is a silly story, so I will write it in three parts. YOU BE THE JUDGE IF IT’S TRUE OR NOT. Here it is.


I’ve got to lose weight. Yes, pitiful things happen to me sometimes. I’m about to impart to you a sad, pitiful story that happened one hot summer night in East Texas.

But first, I need to tell you two things: I love to clean house in my underwear. Being over *cough* and overweight, I just don’t go for the Victoria Secret undies. My rear might look better in them, but I stay with the Wal-Mart granny pantie and sports bra theme when I clean house. After all, I only do this when there’s no one home! Doors locked. Blinds closed. Stereo blaring.

The second thing I need to tell you is that I hate raccoons. My house is situated on the edge of deep, dark East Texas woods where all sorts of critters live. Some of you may think that raccoons are docile, sweet things, but they’re not, especially if you get between them and their food source. They turn extremely mean and vicious, baring their teeth and claws and threatening you with their hissing fits. I’ve been known to shoot a few.

One hot, sultry, summer night, all the kids were gone somewhere, the husband was working out of town, and I was home alone. At last. Time to do some cleaning. I stripped down to the faithful, frayed granny panties and sports bra, turned on my favorite Glen Campbell music, and began my cleaning frenzy. Glen and I sashayed through the housework together, singing at the top of our lungs and enjoying the moment.

We, Glen and I, were just about finished with our chores. Entering the utility room, I could hear the faint sounds of laughing and chattering just outside the back door. Peeking out the door, the four little bandits were making hash of the black garbage bag. Cans, paper, chicken bones, and trash covered the deck. Those nasty things were feasting on the sack’s contents.

They looked at me and froze. I gingerly stepped out, reached as far as I could to grab my mop, and started my rampage — screaming, swinging that mop, and screeching at the things.

“Shoo! Shoo! Shoo! Get out of that garbage!” My tirade just enraged them. They began hissing and baring their teeth and claws, charging at me. It just made me madder.

“Shoo! Shoo! Get out of here!” poking the mop in their faces. I was really mad. I screamed at them, “Just you wait! I’m going to get my gun!” Like that scared them. I ran inside, grabbed my gun, went back out, and threatened their lives.

“Get out of here! You’re asking for it!” *bang* Yes, I shot one. (Now, please don’t be upset. There are plenty more of them out there.) *bang* I shot another one. *click* *click* No more bullets. ‘Go back inside and get more bullets,’ my brain was shouting. The other two were at my feet. I was jumping up and down, now using the mop again to gain some ground on them. No effect.

I was getting tired. After all the cleaning and screaming and jumping around, I was running out of steam. I shrieked at them, “Oh, you can have it!” Turning around to jump back inside, I realized the door had closed and locked. *gulp* Looking down, those little beady eyes looked at me like I was their next meal. I screamed again, and with all my remaining energy, with my mop and gun in hands, I barrelled to the deck railing, threw one little fat leg over and then the other, and jumped.

I landed on both feet and realized I didn’t break either of my little fat legs. I began running toward the end of the house and could hear hisses of laughter from those hideous, horrid rodents. I could just imagine them high-fiving with each other.

Turning the corner of the house, I was caught like a deer in the headlights. With my gun, my mop, wearing granny panties and sports bra, there I was in my neighbor’s truck lights, shining on my sweaty, fleshy frame. I looked down at myself, thinking: “I’ve got to lose weight!”

Continued (whenever I get good and ready to tell you the rest of this silly story…)