Supermarket Rotisserie Chicken

Hi Everybody,
Today, I fell in love...to the extent one can do so over the internet. He is just wonderful. Says the most beautiful things...uses the word 'lovely,' respects his momma. And I am a big fat fake. Why do we lie? Why do we make ourselves out to be better than we are? More specifially, why do women always lie about how many sexual partners we've had? Why? If it's 15, we say four...If it's 25, we say six...If we've lost count, we say three. It is easy to do when the person is across the Atlantic and knows nothing of your past...a bit harder when the person grew up on your block. Is it wrong? Does it really matter what you did in the past? So I ask myself, what if he can't remember all the women he's slept with? I don't care, but then again, he is a man...a good-looking, single, Gemini. But what if the tables were turned? What if I couldn't remember all my partners? How would he feel? I doubt he would say the things he says while under the impression that I've been with three men. And how do I convince him? He is due to visit in two months...I will have to get back to you on that one.
But for now, the meatless remains of half an oversalted rotisserie chicken stare back at me. The customary wine has been omitted due to a sobriety pledge with an alcoholic cohort friend of mine; a good thing since I'm trying to get rid of the my booze belly. My Italian soon-to-be lover will be here in two months, I need to lose weight...enough to at least be able to pass off the last picture I sent him as a recent one. Never mind it was a picture from college. At last count...it was something unattainable, like 30 pounds or so. A big fat liar. At best, I could lose 20...but even then, I'm no size 7. Sigh...lies, all lies...At least my profile warned: "A few extra pounds" ...sure, if you consider 30 pounds "a few." I am leaving for Honduras this week for 10 days...perhaps I can pick up an intestinal parasite...
Thanks for reading.
~C. Huff