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ALADY OF MY acquaintance, who is now deeply entranced by the Weight Watchers diet, came to me recently with a startling bit of information.
She had been watching a special about dieting that featured Dr. Phil, that present-day guru of afternoon talk-show television whose vast store of knowledge is comparable only to that of Mr. Know It All on the old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon show.
"Did you know that Dr. Phil says eating one doughnut a day will cause you to put on 30 pounds a year?" the woman asked.
I confessed that I was not aware of this fact, but after being informed of it I began to give the matter serious consideration. After all, I have had a long-standing relationship with holy pastries.
Few days pass that I don't pay a visit to the local bakery and pick up a half-dozen chocolate covered doughnuts. If there are none of this variety left, I settle for six Bismarcks or some of those custard-filled delights.
I probably consume an average of three doughnuts a day. That would mean, at least by Dr. Phil's formula, that I would put on 90 pounds a year.
What's worse, I have been engaged in this three-doughnut-a-day habit for at least 10 years. That's 900 pounds I should have gained over this period.
I immediately sent someone upstairs to fetch bathroom scales (I was now afraid to put all my newly suspected poundage on the second-floor framing) and I weighed myself. Goodness gracious! I was only about 5 pounds heavier than I was a decade ago.
How could this be? The scales must have been wrong because Dr. Phil (Does this guy even have a last name?) certainly couldn't be.
I looked in the mirror and it didn't look like I had gained 900 pounds (which would have put me at about 1,090 right now). Where had the doughnuts gone?
I still haven't figured it all out but I have a suspicion that Dr. Phil got his doughnut-weight scale from the guy who invented the "dog-years" formula.
You remember that one. A loving owner looks at her flea-bitten old dog and says, "Fido is 15! That's 150 in human years."
Why, I was once introduced to a pooch (he was so old and lethargic I thought he was already dead) that was supposed to be 200 in human years.
These figures sound really impressive but somehow I can't believe this "dog years-man years" scale is completely accurate. After all, there are tons of dogs out there that are reportedly more than 125 in human years and in my entire life I have known only about 10 people who even reached the age of 101 (none lived beyond).
Perhaps somewhere out in this great big world there is a human who is 150, but I'm willing to bet that even the National Enquirer (which produces sensational headlines like "DNA Tests Prove George Bush and Saddam Hussein are Really Brothers") won't dig up a 200-year-old man.
Now far be it from me to call either a pet owner or Dr. Phil a liar, but maybe, just maybe, both their formulas are just a tiny bit flawed.
There is, I suppose, one scientific way to find out for sure. We could get a puppy and feed him three doughnuts a day for 15 years. If we wind up with a 150-year-old dog that weighs 2,250 pounds we will know the Dr. Phil and the animal experts are right.
Personally, I think there's about as much chance of that happening as Dr. Phil growing a full head of hair before his next TV special.
In the world of talk-show television, however, almost anything is possible.
Now, where did I put those doughnuts?
To reach DONNIE JOHNSTON: DJohn40330@aol.com