Day 1
To my dear Mother and Father (and sweet sister Cheryl),
Hey, family unit! It’s me, your loving first-born son, Billy, writing you all the way from the sunny, lakeside shores of Camp Sacajawea. I wish you could see it, the vast, green foliage settled on a majestic backdrop of rolling mountains and blue sky, all reflected upon the shimmering surface of lake Whinniepoopoo. It's just as the brochure that I found in your sock drawer described it, “Camp Sacajawea: The perfect place for your plump progeny.”
Everything is going swell so far here at camp. The other kids are super nice . . . all two metric tons of them, which roughly equals 4409.2 pounds! I only know this number because the moment we stepped off the bus we were sped away to the “Reflection Room,” a large, mess hall-like building where a giant cattle scale “reflected” everyone’s current weight. I found the process to be quite interesting because, apparently, in order to weigh us correctly the counselors were instructed to strip us down to our underwear, take our luggage and our money, and then proceeded to take our dignity by giving us all special nicknames; my nickname is “Moobs” a clever conjunction on the term man-boobs.
My favorite councilor so far is Head Councilor Chip, a surly ex-Navy Seal with a glass eye. He has helped us “find our fit” through such motivational phrases as, “Find your fit.”
When asked about how he lost his eye, Head Councilor Chip popped out the glass peeper already in his head and stated, “I gouged it out so I could get a closer look at how much you've let yourselves go.” He chuckled lightly and proceeded to drop the eye into my hand. Hours later, when I awoke in the first aid hutch, I was told that I had blacked out and was informed that the reason my throat hurt was because I had been screaming so loudly.
Our bunks are typical of any camp except for one small detail: as a new member to a camp for “weight-challenged individuals,” I find it odd that they didn't think to reinforce the beds. Apparently the golem that had occupied my bunk prior to my camp experience was much heavier than myself. This is, of course, an assumption based off the fact that my bed springs had committed hara-kiri and died an honorable death at his hands. Now when I lay down in my bunk I sink to the floor and sleep in my mattress-like cocoon.
Well, it seems that dinner time has in fact has come. Counselor Chip has promised us a Southwest blend of beans and no-carb tortillas. He has even donned a festive sombrero to mark the occasion. I’ve also been told that they will serve us dinner tonight in the Reflection Room, with that damnable scale hovering over us like a grim specter of things to come.
Until next time family unit
Sincerely,
Billy
P.S. Fun Camp Fact: Head Counselor Chip has shared a delightful story of how he and his wife had turned a once-dilapidated internment camp into the proud Children’s Weight Management Facility that it is today.
P.P.S. I hope that Cheryl is enjoying her graduation present and is having a great time in Maui...
