I can already hear Glen screaming

I am in big trouble. What I am about to say will be difficult for some of you. Think of it as a mini-Apocalypse. When the vials of the wrath of God are poured out upon the earth, you won't be able to say you weren't ready.

Here goes. This will hurt me more than it hurts you.

I bought myself a fanny pack, and I am using it and loving it.

Yes. This is all true. The fanny pack has replaced my purse during my visits to Disney World, and it is awesome. I can't help myself. It is fabulous. My hands are completely free for munching Cheez Doodles and drinking 32-ounce slurpees. If I need to rearrange the scrunchie in my hair or around my wrist, there's no problem. I just toss my slingshot over my shoulder for easy access whenever I want to shoot some varmints.

I know. This is horrible. I can't allow this to continue. Not only is it ugly, it makes ME look awful. Steve says it looks like I have an extra roll of fat on my stomach. And believe me, I already have plenty of those and don't need to create the illusion that I've sprouted more overnight. But come on! It's perfect! It has just enough space for my wallet, my sunglasses and Michael's EpiPen. I can't forget it on the Great Movie Ride, because it's never off my body. It doesn't roll all over the place during Star Tours, and I never have to worry about petty thieves stealing it. Heck, they get one look at it and run the other way.

Glen, can this really be wrong when it feels so right?