We've been so serious this Diet Week, I decided today that we'd chuckle a little. Below, find my favorite reader e-mail of all time.

Duke, wherever you are, I hope the furniture is treating you well!

Yes, I too abused furniture. As a portly eighth-grader at Immaculate Conception Catholic School, I also wore out the inner thighs of my husky-plus Sears "Tuffskins" jeans through the friction generated by walking. Patches could help that, but nothing could patch up the furniture abuse fiasco of eighth grade. It was one of the most protracted episodes of embarrassment I ever had as a kid.

I broke a school desk. By sitting in it. Sitting in it just like all the other kids in class, except I weighed more than maybe any other two kids in class combined (except for Elaine, a big girl herself).

I remember sitting in Sister Mary's Greek mythology class reading about Hercules clearing out the "dung and muck" of the horse stalls when I heard a distinctive metal "SNAP!" and then a slow, anguished CRRRREEEAAAAAAAAKKKKK! The welded joints of the desk gave way. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. Why me? Why not Elaine? I started sweating, hoping, pleading that no other student heard the snap and creak.

Thank goodness I had strong leg muscles. You won't believe this, but I held the squat posture, taking all the pressure off the remaining feeble metal desk structure, for FIVE MINUTES! If I weren't so fat, I could have been a jockey in horse races.The desk top was balanced and kept in place by my elbows, and the lone metal support that held the desk top to the wooden seat was anchored by my knees. The seat section was kept in place by sheer will and wind. I perspired and trembled throughout this ordeal, but I vowed that I would not let it be known that I had broken a school desk. A school desk. Designed to last for generations of miscreants. Designed to endure the turmoil of graffiti, detention, and even the year-end homeroom desk race. I broke a school desk while reading about Greek mythology!

Then it started. The whispers.

"He broke his desk!" I heard from someone behind me. A snicker. Another snicker. All bets were off by then. How could I rescue myself from further humiliation? I thought of how Elaine would celebrate this turn of events. This would crown me king of the fatties, taking pressure off her until, well until she broke a desk or bathroom toilet or something with her girth.

My mind tried to come up with a way to put an end to this tension. Oh Hercules, help me! My legs felt like anvils. Out of fatigue, I stood up straight and pretended to stretch. Predictably, the shambles of desk furniture fell in every direction. The seat fell behind me, the writing surface fell face forward, and the metal supports, liberated from their welding, cascaded with a loud CLANG every which way. As much as I tried to act surprised, it couldn't be hidden that I was the first and only person at Immaculate Conception to demolish a school desk while just trying to get an A in Greek mythology. Elaine never topped it. -- Duke in Oklahoma