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So we were both fat. And neither of us was exactly an inspiration to the other: we sat around all weekend every weekend, watching videos and eating. Always eating. Sex disappeared soon after we couldn't see our own feet. And then love disappeared, and then me. I left you, and—though this may sound totally insane—there's no way I could tell you to your face that I still love you. And that I miss you. I don't miss living in the rat's nest we once called home. But everything I wanted to accomplish with someone else—a better body, a sharper mind, some travel, some books (remember how we used to read together?), a cleaner house, and a lot less TV—I could have accomplished with you. I know that now. Instead, I've spent most of the money I saved on hair plugs, a health-club membership and furniture for my new apartment. You'll be glad to know I still have the hair plugs. You will be less glad to know that I still have the big belly. And that I still watch TV. But now I watch it alone. And my apartment is a mess. Someone once said, "No matter where you go, there you are." Here I am. If you read this, you know where to find me. I love you. Please help me create a revolution in my life.