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In 1979 I weighed close to 200 pounds, and I was miserable. I had a closet full of small clothes that I used to wear before the weight gain, which was caused by the following: I had four children under the age of 11, no telephone, no driver's license or car, and no-one to talk to except the mail carrier. There wasn't much to do after the kids were in bed except watch television and snack.

I really wanted to lose the weight, but failed every time I started a diet. One afternoon I was going through my closet and found a pair of jeans that I hadn't worn in a long time. After stuffing myself into them by laying on the bed and zipping them up, I managed to roll off the bed and stand up.

What a sight! From the waist down, I didn't look too bad, but from the waist to my bust line, good grief! There was a huge roll of fat resting on the waistband of the jeans, and honestly, I think it was larger than my chest. Being creative, I found a wide Ace Bandage and wrapped it tightly around the roll of fat that was hanging over my waistband. Not bad, but I had to see how I could look if I lost 30 or so pounds; I grabbed a shirt from the closet and threw it on. Looking at my profile helped me to gain new strength in the diet battle; until the pain struck.

The pain in my stomach doubled me over, and I had to lean on a dresser as I ripped the shirt off and unwound the Ace Bandage. I thought the pain would go away once the bandage was off but it seemed to get worse. Duh! The jeans were two sizes too small, and that had to be why I was in so much pain. I tried to unzip them, but the zipper was stuck. I could hardly breathe and I knew I had to get those jeans off before I passed out.

I heard one of my boys downstairs and tried to yell for him to come and help me. He heard my feeble cries for help and came to my rescue. I managed to croak out the words "The zipper's stuck!" and then the fun began. He had a look on his face that under ordinary circumstances would have been funny, but I was in so much pain I didn't realize he was staring at me, his mother, as if I were a three legged ballerina.

He shoved onto the bed and straddled me as he fought to free the zipper, negative. He jumped off of me and hollered back as he ran down the stairs, "Stay right there, I'm going to get the pliers. He was back in a flash and right back onto the bed and me. He had grabbed the zipper pull and yanked hard, only to have the darn thing break off from the force of the pliers.

Great! Not only was the zipper

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