When I stepped on the scale this morning and sadly realized that I hadn't lost much weight this week, my thoughts naturally turned to New York Yankee slugger Alex Rodriguez.
For the past week or so, Alex, who has been trying over and over to hit his 500th major league home run, steps up to the plate and faces thousands of flashing cameras and hundreds of winsome child-made "Hit It Here" signs. The children's parents have just shelled out $8 for a small beer. Alex looks cool, sometimes blowing pink chewing gum bubbles and shaking the crick out of his neck. The batter before him just hit a home run, and the one after him will hit one also. He has pretty eyes.
What is wrong with Alex? Is he preoccupied with José Conseco's confessional literary career? Did he find that the new mansion he is rumored to be purchasing in the suburbs too large to vacuum?
Never fear, Alex. As long as you work hard and focus on the speeding baseball, you will hit your home run. And I will lose another couple of pounds. One day doesn't matter. It's about the long run.
In most other respects, I think that Alex Rodriguez and I are more different than alike.
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