Much like the wooden Pinnochio, the Thin Paper Harlequin decided to turn himself from paper to flesh and blood, "thin" still being the operative word. So, my friends, squeeze your bony, scrawny knuckles in my direction and wish me thin luck.
The plan is as follows: scarsdale diet for as long as M. allows it. Also, I shall be treading mills, softly, for they'll take me to my dreams. Three times a week. After I plateau, swimming.
More, later.
