STRANGER THAN FICTION: HOW YOUR FRIENDS KEEP YOU FROM MEETING GOALS

I've gotten much more accomplished since I gave up having a life.

It's a quiet Sunday morning here in Pensacola, and our apartment complex sleeps after a night of drunken debauchery. I know that because it's 11 a.m. and our light fixtures aren't shaking under our upstairs neighbor's footsteps.

Any day now, I expect to see him come crashing through our ceiling. Thank goodness we got that renters' insurance.

But about Fred, the guy upstairs. You know how you expect people to look a certain way before you meet them? After hearing his heavy footsteps for a couple of weeks and sharing the joy -- not -- of his Metallica CDs, I expected a fat guy with long hair, gargantuan feet, perpetually carrying a beer.

But noooooo! He came down last night to apologize for his loud stereo. He was clean cut, very tall, very fit and, in a word, va-va-voom!

"Has my stereo been bothering you?" he asked with a shy smile. "Sometimes I get a little out of control."

Standing there in my long, fuzzy bathrobe and Isotoner slippers -- standard Saturday night wear since my move -- I tried to reply. A little trickle of drool fell from the corner of my mouth as I finally shook my head "no."

So I blew my one chance to do something about Metallica. Damn my weakness for Antonio Sabato look-alikes!

Speaking of my event-less Saturday night, I've decided to write a book called "How Your Friends Are You Keeping From The Life You Always Wanted."

Seriously, since moving away from my Cape Girardeau buddies, I haven't smoked a cigarette, drunk one too many adult beverages or skipped doing my laundry in favor of going to the movies. I go to Gold's Gym five times a week, I give myself a manicure every Saturday morning and clean house every Sunday afternoon.

Before, my time was wasted on frivolous things like parties and shopping. I can see the first chapter of my book now: "How Hitting The Road Can Put YOU on the Road to Fitness."

Not that I'm giving up on making new friends here. I smile at everyone at the gym, but they aren't really interested in forming lifelong relationships there. The musclehead at the front desk usually says "hello," but then he looks at his musclehead friends with a smile that says, "Look! I said hello to the fat girl? It probably made her life!"

Being away from everyone else really has improved my marriage, though. I can't fight with The Other Half -- there aren't any friends down here I can run to and complain about what an idiot he is, and long distance phone charges are outrageous. We recently had our first fight since moving to Pensacola, and it was about where to put our new sofa. What kind of a fight is that?

Of course, it descended into a fight about how I think all his ideas are stupid and how he shouldn't have anything to say about decorating the living room, but the fight still wasn't going to win any creativity awards.

Maybe if I came to a true love and respect for myself, I'd never fight with The Other Half again. To that end, I'm reading, "Well Rounded: Eight Simple Steps For Changing Your Life, Not Your Size." Not that I don't want to keep changing my size -- downward, of course. But in the meantime, this book is going to put me on the path to self-awareness.

The author, Catherine Lippincott, is a model for large women's clothing. In her section titled "Assess Your Outer Strengths," she advises us fellow big girls on how to accept our trouble spots.

"I try to touch my lower belly when I can, gently massaging it in small circles, eliminating all negative thoughts associated with this body area," she writes. "I draw on positive images of the belly, thinking about the happy, wise benevolent Buddha, whose belly brings good luck to those who lovingly rub it."

She didn't have similar advice for when you hate your butt, but hey, you have to draw the line somewhere.

Even though I don't love my body yet, I'm still going to pull on some shorts and head for the beach today. It's a little cool -- about 72 degrees -- but the sun comes out occasionally and the water ought to be beautiful to look at if not swim in.

Hey, what's the good of living in Florida if you can't brag about it?

~Heidi Nieland is a former Southeast Missourian staff writer now working in Pensacola, Fla.