This weekend, my car was stolen. Actually, it was taken by my hoary-headed husband, who left me his old pick-um-up truck, which has no air conditioning and a squealing back tire. Fat Chicks need air conditioning. We don't need the attention that comes with (very) noisy tires. The thing that bothered me most, though, is the fact that with as far back as the seat would go, unless I sat up really straight, my belly still touched the steering wheel. Really, really time for a diet. Just like last Monday, and the Monday before that. Somebody wish me luck. Better yet, send a prayer up for me.