I consider myself overweight, but I do not consider myself “fat.”  I suffer from the same psychological affliction as drivers who travel 8 mph over the speed limit who look with distrain at those maniacs going 12 mph over the limit.

That was until last night, when my world came crashing down – along with my fat a**.

As my loyal readers know, I make it a point to take personal responsibly for all of my actions.  This is a character trait I guard with my life.  There are no exceptions.  Absolutely none.  Except this time.  This time, I have to blame my wife, Julie.  Yesterday was her birthday.  Because our family was in Bend attending the Bend Film Festival, we had both a birthday lunch AND a birthday dinner. 

Until yesterday, I was on a hardcore dieting streak.  I was only eating one meal a day for as long as I can remember.  Okay, since Monday.  But three days is three days!  I was down 2½ pounds.  Or, as I like to put it, one good visit to the “reading room.” 

So, things were going along just fine, until out of the blue… Julie decided to have a birthday! 

Lunch was at the 10 Barrel Brewing Company.  Yes, I reviewed the salad options.  But here was the problem – none of the salads came with fries.  Yes, I could order a side of fries with my salad – if I were a weirdo!  So, as I am sure you understand, I was forced to order a ginormous burger, with a side of ranch to dip my fries in.  So… It wasn’t ME.  It was SOCIETY, telling me I had to mow down that (extremely tasty) burger! 

Then, just as I’m pondering the possibility of skipping dinner, I find out we have a dinner reservation at Yoli, a Korean fusion restaurant.  Little did I know that “Yoli” is Korean for “Broken Tailbone.”

So, I’m sitting there at Yoli, tossing appetizers down my gullet like Shamu the Whale at Sea World, when IT happened.

The back right leg of my chair snapped like a dogwood sapling in a Cat 5 hurricane. 

Down I went. Full collapse.

I was lying there on my back like a stranded turtle.

The worst part was the look on everyone’s faces.  They clearly thought that was the end of me.  One old guy grabbed my arm and kept insisting on helping me to my feet.  He wouldn’t let go.  I was finally able to shake him off. 

In the end, the waitress told me my dinner was free.  I’m not saying I’m a cheapskate, but I had ordered an expensive salmon dinner.  Truth be told, I’d take two falls to get that for free.

So, the point of my story is this –

If you see me walk into a restaurant, and I stand at the entrance looking around for a moment, you’ll know what I’m doing.  I’m scanning the room for a chair with a shaky leg.