In a previous article, I stated my intentions to run for president. Sadly, I must announce that I am dropping out of the race. After a long and deep process of reflection, I decided that I simply do not have the ability to look good in colorful and smart pant suits. In addition to that, my war chest of $8.32 did not seem like enough to wage the type of campaign I would have liked. Strict auditing processes demand that I do something with that money, and I have chosen to buy 18 packs of gum for needy children. The worst part about ending my run is that I will not be able to launch a badly needed third party. For now, I must put an end to the “Hells Yeah!” Party for at least another four years.

Being the philosophical person that I am, I adhere to the old saying: When one door closes, a window opens somewhere else in the house. Perhaps it’s on the second floor; in which case you don’t want to climb out of it unless there’s a well placed tree to hold onto. A trellis is even better, but make sure that it’s latched solidly to the frame of the house. As I think about it, maybe that phrase was when a door closes, another door opens. Whichever one, I am pleased to announce that I have found another door to open. It’s the doggy door in the garage, but a door nonetheless.

That door is the chance to make the Summer Olympics in London. I know it’s late, so I’ve assembled a fact-finding committee to explore my best options. This fact-finding committee was made up of needy children who were willing to work for a pack of gum.

Since I’ve lost so much weight and am now able to jog for four continuous minutes, our starting point was events that take less than four minutes to complete. Sprinting, jumping and throwing things all fall under this header. Sprinting is out because I have an aversion to spandex running shorts. The Olympic committee informs me that my bid to introduce Bermuda shorts to the track and field venue, while not technically a violation, would be seriously frowned upon. Apparently, I would be unable to be as aerodynamic as I need to.

Other field events I had considered were the javelin or shot put because I’ve been practicing my throwing. The other day at work, I threw a stapler in a fit of anger. Three days earlier, I threw my purse in a fit of anger. Just last week, I threw a can across the kitchen in a fit of anger. As long as aim is not a consideration, throwing is something I’d like to keep on the list of possibilities.

There are many shooting events in the Summer Olympics. I’d like to shoot things. My declining eyesight could be an issue though. It’s not that I can’t see to shoot a target. I’m not sure if I’ll be allowed to shoot a gun because I can’t quite read the fine print on the restraining orders anymore. Luckily, I have those children who can still read small type.

One thing I don’t have the stamina to do is swim. I can’t stand jumping, being upside down, or falling from great heights, so diving is a definite “no”. Synchronized swimming is always something that intrigues me. This could be a slim possibility because I’ve been letting my hair grow out this year and I think it may just be long enough to put up into an extreme bun. I’m pretty sure Cover Girl® makes a gaudy waterproof eyeshadow too. I also have no problem with wearing the little nose plugs that make you look like you have a perpetual piggy face because I never could get the hang of keeping the water out of my nose when I’m swimming. Speaking of swimming, I’ll have to look into how important the ability to swim is to the sport of synchronized swimming. I only mention this because I can’t actually swim. Not to worry though. I’ve checked to make sure that Amazon has a good deal on the Swimming for Dummies book. Hopefully, I can get my answer soon, so I don’t have to spring for the expedited shipping.

Despite my inability to swim, float or be upside down, there are still sports that would let me be involved with the water. Rowing does not require swimming. This time around, I actually might even have the shoulder and back muscles to do the actual rowing part. Before, I figured all I was qualified for was to be the person who sat on the end of the boat and yelled at everyone. Just to be on the safe side though, in addition to doing shoulder presses at the gym, I’ve been practicing yelling things like, “hurry up! Faster! Faaassster!”

Ping Pong–I mean table tennis– is out. Those little plastic balls may seem unassuming, but some of those athletes get those things flying at you at 90 miles an hour. Do you know what that means? If I miss, there’s a distinct possibility I could end up with a ping pong ball lodged in one of my belly fat rolls. I simply can’t risk the humiliation. Of course, I’m likely to be disqualified early on in the match because I have a tendency to lob things like ping pong paddles across the room when I miss. In fact, even when I’m not playing ping pong, I like to keep a sack of paddles handy just for lobbing purposes. I like the unpredictability of a really good paddle because it’s so bottom heavy. When ping pong paddle tossing eventually makes it into the games, I’ll be in line for some big endorsement contracts.

Of course, I realize that my chances are pretty slim of being ready for any of the events. It’s not so much my athletic prowess as it is my refusal to wear tight clothes that’s really hindering me. I also couldn’t convince the sailing team that I could, in fact, propel their boat with the loose skin on my upper arms. That’s fine though. It just means that I have a lot of work to do over these next four years. While my little gum-chewing staff and I work out the kinks on my presidential campaign, I need to reduce my lower back fat and get a petition going for easier sports in the next Olympics so people like me have a better chance of competing. When my petition for croquet makes it around, I expect everyone to sign it.