Fat Old Woman in Las Vegas: Gambling, Dieting And Wicked Fun

Cover Fat Old Woman in Las Vegas: Gambling, Dieting And Wicked Fun
I was more excited about the packaged goodies hidden behind green cellophane than the story of Jesus. Even as a young girl, I leaned toward the dark side, especially if it included chocolate.
    When I woke up Easter morning in Las Vegas, a tinge of guilt hit me about not planning to attend church that day. That surprised me. I hadn’t attended services on a regular basis in five decades. I’d long identified myself as the prodigal daughter who’d never bothered to return. Yet, Easter in Vegas ha
...d me haunted by the image of close-knit families worshipping together.
    Perhaps I could just drop by a casino chapel to say “Hi there” to whatever gods might be hanging around? Hopefully, the chapels were open twenty-four seven. If not, they should have been. More urgently uttered and heartfelt prayers were raised in a casino than any place on earth.
    All I knew was that I needed to get away from the strip. I was feeling the need for a calming environment.
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