WWCD?

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the day when non-Christians everywhere suffer momentary embarrassment when they instinctively attempt to wipe the schmutz off a friend's forehead. As a Jew, I've never really understood how the mark of a dirt cross on your face helps you to contemplate your transgressions, but I suppose it's no more ludicrous than our tradition of feeding people little hot dogs and other tasty treats while they watch a male infant get a piece of his penis lopped off.

I do, however, understand the concept of self-denial, so the onset of Lent often inspires me to relinquish something I will truly miss. This year, I've decided to give up self-deprecating humor, pity parties for one, and my beloved expandable sweat pants. No more trappings of loser-hood for me; for the next forty-something days, I will project a positive mental attitude to both myself and the people around me. Duh; winning!

It doesn't hurt that the news has been flooded this past week with video of the paragon of can-do-ism, Charlie Sheen, flipping the bird at anything and anyone who might conspire to bring him down. Well, except himself, but that's a minor detail. I'm sure he'll come around. Here is a man who has lost his job, his children, and his mind, yet he keeps his head up high and has authored more spectacular quotes than you could ever find in Bartlett's. Duh; inspirational.

Just as Charlie must certainly be struggling with his complete loss of humility and common sense, I will feel quite an emptiness without my comfortable old shoe of negativity. But I will persevere; I will announce to all doubters that I am awesome, and I will believe it. I will not necessarily give up pity parties entirely, but I will certainly invite others in to join me. And my waist will not see a drawstring stretchy waistband until mid April; my skin straining against tight zippers and unrelenting non-elastic fabrics may not help remind me to contemplate my transgressions, but it will certainly remind me there are forms of suffering far worse than what I waste my time bitching about. Duh; perspective.

When I feel myself slipping into moroseness, I will tug on my tight belt loops and lift myself up, and I will rant and rave until everybody out there knows I'm a winner. I will simply ask myself, when the going gets tough, What would Charlie do?