There.
I said it.
I know it. My friends know it.The skinny waiter at Olive Garden knows it.
He's the one that called me big guy. I would have kicked his butt if I weren't out of breath and not out of food.
I can remember telling my father I would never be as fat as he was. Well I am. And I don't drink beer. They say a beer is like a loaf of bread. I don't know about that but I have probably had a six pack this week.
I am fat.
I injured myself trying to put on my boots the other day. For the past several years I have either worn shoes without laces. Or taken the laces out of the shoes. Or worn flip-flops. Flip-flops are no longer an option because there are low land gorillas with prettier feet than mine.
I am fat.
How fat are you?
So fat that soon my self-deprecating humor might turn into self-defecating humor.
So fat that people at work ask when the baby is due. Favorite answer: 20 minutes.
So fat when I sleep on my stomach my knees don't touch the bed.
So fat that if I keep up the pace I'm on I will have to be twelve feet tall to be my ideal weight.
So fat that if I keep up this pace I will be dead before I'm 60.
I have high blood pressure. High cholesterol. Bad knees. Heartburn all the time.I am fat.
So I begin the process of losing this weight that is killing me.
I hear crystal meth is a sure way to lose weight in a hurry.