There's Lazy and then there's LAZY.

In my eternal quest to lose weight, I found this completely shady quack of a doctor who runs a 'weight loss clinic.'

Ironically, said physician is obese. He has a nurse who takes vitals, and calculates BMI. He meets with each patient for the initial visit, and if the BMI is above 'normal' will prescribe any legal weight loss drug, which he keeps in his office, already packaged. All in exchange for a nice crisp $100 bill. Cash.

Perfectly on the up and up, no?

So, around February, I went for a refill. Which, amazingly, I got from the nurse! Awesome. Hopped up on the scale, got my refill, paid my money and went on my way.

But now, I'm out. And, like a junkie, am thinking of new ways to get my fix. According to the scale, I fall under the parameters of "normal." I was thinking about finding a friend to go, and get the script for me, but then I realize, I would be telling her that she's fat enough to get a drug, while I am not. And I can't really think of any one who would go do that for me after I've called them fat.

So, I'm telling CC my predicament. (If only CC weighed 100 pounds more, she could go get me a refill.) And I tell her I have a new plan: I have these ankle weights...

CC, an exercise buff and Skinny Minnie gets all excited. "Hooray! You could walk early in the morning before it gets hot. That would be great for you."

Sorry to disappoint, but I was thinking more like putting the weights on under my jeans and drinking a gallon of water so that my BMI was pushed out of 'normal' for the weigh-in.

CC's eyes register the cheat. The energy I have spent calculating an easy fix could easily have gone towards legitimate exercise or healthier menu planning. She shakes her head upon its slender neck. "You're nuts." she says.

Which is true. Do you think there's a quack out there running a 'psyciatric clinic?'