By Betty King
Had I stepped on the scales that morning, the needle would not quite have come to rest on 200 pounds. It would have settled though, way past my prime weight of 120. Cowboy boots were not part of my attire but I had managed to stuff my thighs into a pair of denim jeans.
I rode my three-wheel-motorized scooter over sand and past cacti to the front of the barn; there I waited my next mode of transportation.