Another winter has come and gone and once again my dreams of looking better didn’t materialize. I had intended to look like the man on the Harlequin Romance book covers, but I still have the same little ministerial potbelly I had at the first of the year. I had also hoped to have more hair, but that hasn’t gone well either. There’s a kid in my town with alopecia and everyone fusses over him and buys him baseball caps, but those same people notice my hair loss and say, Geez, Phil, you’re looking old. Why isn’t there a donation jar with my picture on it at the drugstore checkout counter?
Click below to read the rest of this free essay in the March edition of the Saturday Evening Post.
Help, please! This app is sending me around in circles. I have an account, but the password isn't recognized. I'm happy to change the password, but the app won't provide me with that opportunity, so I can't read Phil's articles.