Well, I've finally discovered the secret to losing weight and feeling more confident about your body: thin mirrors.

You know how some mirrors make you look all bulbous and disproportionate? (Victoria's Secret, are you listening?) Those are Fat Mirrors. You want to stay away from Evil Fat Mirrors. They reflect a severely distorted, flabby, torso-foreshortening, pseudo, ugly, fallacious image. Evil! By contrast, Thin Mirrors, oh heavenly creation, are to be pursued and obtained and evermore jealously guarded at all costs.

As with many great discoveries, this one arrived by chance. I don't know what I would have done if this house hadn't come with 'em. Except go on a diet. And who wants to do that. Ew. Ug. GAH.

This house has other great features, of course. Like a diving board. But having the neighbors see me pop above the fence at regular intervals is definitely far inferior to feeling hot every day as I walk out the door eating my breakfast of chocolate chip cookies or leftover pizza or a stack (yes, a stack) of those golden bites of goodness, Keebler Club Crackers. What I have discovered, after several months of empirical research, is that you cannot look fat in these mirrors. Easter candy for breakfast? Cheetos for lunch? Pasta with cream sauce for dinner? No problem! A whole package of Swoops for after-lunch snack (i.e., a Pringles can worth of chocolate)? Lunch for break fast, Carl's Jr. for lunch, and helping no. 2 of pasta with cream sauce for dinner?--No no, eat more! You're practically wasting away, you ravishingly undernourished creature! Every time you feel fat or bloated, these mirrors are there to remind you that you are slim, slim, slim! You feel all-powerful, untouched by the hand of fate, the sour hangover of consequences!

Until you go to Scottsdale. Ah, it's just like the OC. I definitely missed the plentitude of unnaturally perky boobies and hos who wear lingerie that seriously covers their ass by a hair's breadth out to clubs and size zero $200 jeans. It's charming, remember?

Thank goodness for the Thin Mirrors, so you can come home and listen to their soothing whispers as you fall asleep with a Thin Mint in your mouth.

By the way: know what's even better than a Swiss dark chocolate bar? A Swiss dark chocolate bar that has sat in your car through the freezing temperatures in Minnesota and then the hellish temperatures of ghetto-land that you forgot about for several months until one day when you were driving home, and you discover that it has become so soft that you can squeeze it out of the wrapping like toothpaste. Mmm.

Don't worry. I'm not fat. (It's my Greatest Achievement, remember?) So I can revel in my addiction.

By the way, I'm sure you've noticed the straight quotes and inferior en-dashes in this post. They torment me, too. Feel free to e-mail protests to Microsoft, the b*stards who make you subscribe to what should be a god-given, inalieable right: MS Word.