Then I remembered that trend setting book of the '80's: The F-Plan Diet. Back when I had a metabolism, I consulted that manual religiously with favorable results. With high hopes, I exhumed it from the attic and dusted it off.

The F-Plan Diet is the only weight loss book I've seen that doesn't insist you check with your doctor before starting. Are there really people who do that? "Doctor, should I embark on this healthy way of eating or continue living on Hostess Dingdongs?" And what doctor worth his stethoscope would say, "It's my professional opinion you should remain morbidly obese." <continued below>

I'm also impressed by the quantity and appeal of the vittles recommended on the F-Plan Diet. To my delight there is absolutely no mention of alfalfa sprouts, tofu or other foods unfit for human consumption.

The "plan" advises eating foods high in fiber. (And, no, you don't have to eat a pine tree, regardless of what Euell Gibbons said.) This requires a lot of chewing which I personally find satisfying. But for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Now I remember what the "F" stands for.

Snacking is required, which suits me just fine. I hate the sound of gnawing hunger even more than the swishing of thighs rubbing together.

My goal is to become a 97-pound weakling, but I'd be happy just to fit into my fat clothes again. After following the F-Plan Diet for two weeks, I've seen a notable improvement. It's too soon to tell if I'll get rid of my incredible bulk, but if I do, you can bet I'll let you know.

For more of Corky Corcoran's humor, see her weekly column in the Ft. Worth Star Telegram Online. Visit her site.