I'm a cigarette smoker. And but for a brief (and horrible) experience with the "patch" several years ago, I've been a smoker - pipes and Winstons - since college. And, oh yes, Martha, I hear about it every day. Every single lousy stinkin' day! Well, now, the gloves are off.

You see, my dear friends, our Center for Disease Control and Prevention reported last week that by this time next year, obesity ... pass another pork chop, Annie ... yes, obesity will replace smoking as the top cause of "avoidable" death in this country.

So if you walk up to me and start a-preachin' about my horribly disgusting smoking habit, you'd better have checked the bathroom scales, first. Because I guaran-damn-tee you, if I feel you've had a couple of French fries too many, I'll preach right back! And, I won't be polite about it ... because you haven't been.

Seriously, when I was a kid, and even well into my thirties, and on, I was extremely self-conscious about being SKINNY. I was what they call "a rail" - and still am. Speaking of gloves ... boxers my weight are called "Bantamweight" - heck, that's lighter than "Flyweight".

But I certainly don't feel self-conscious anymore ... not when the Disease folks say that 500,000 people - a half a million human garbage disposals - will die each year from whatever causes fatness.

So, be warned. When I'm having my "cancer stick" outside the airport baggage claim, better check your belt-line before you say anything derogatory. Lose ten pounds, and call me in the morning.

The gloves are off.