Things I have to let go

The older I get, the more I realize my chances of being named King of the World are slim. So perhaps it's time to abandon my control-freak ways and accept the things that bug the living crap out of me. Some highlights from that long, long list:

1. Annoying cell phone conversations. I can give all the dirty looks I want: people are never going to stop yapping about their health problems and hookups on the street, on the bus, in the restroom, on the treadmill at the gym... The New Me is going to embrace their candor and possibly offer advice. You know, as a public service. 

2. The spelling of Caesar salad on menus. I could travel the country with a tanker truck full of Wite-Out® and still not be able to fix all the Ceasars and Cesars. Go ahead, diner owners. Spell it however you like. I'm done.

3. Bad perfume. The supremely irritating Andy Rooney once said that the closer a person smells to nothing, the better. As much as it pains me to admit it, I agree with the dude. But short of yet another edict from Bloomberg's hyperactive Department of Health, people wearing godawful scents are gonna sit next to me on the subway and in movie theaters. I'll just have to keep popping Advils for the headaches. (What, you thought it was easy being me?)

4. Meanness on Internet message boards. I used to think people were basically good. Then I started reading the comments on Yahoo! News stories. Give someone a computer and a little anonymity and... wow. Just wow. (And don't even get me started on the grammar.) Yahoo, of course, is on the mild end of things: how decent folks can spend time on the really nasty sites is beyond me.

5. My gut. True confession: I've had a bit of a potbelly since 8th grade. I'm now in just about the best shape of my adult life and still the gut remains. It's going nowhere unless I start a strict regimen of Pilates and Abs of Steel. And that, my friends, is Not Gonna Happen. Hey, that's why they make control-top tights.