Wednesday, August 26, 2009

That's Not a Firetruck Behind You ... That's Just Me

Current weight: don't know. don't care.

There are times in your life when you reach across the cockpit, flip on the autopilot, unbuckle your seat belt, undo the top button on your pants (OK, maybe that's just me) lean back and just let the trade winds take you where they may.

During these times, you tend to turn your attention away from (read: purposefully ignore) things that you might otherwise normally give more of a crap about.

Now that I have my insurance approval in hand and know that my surgery date is looming in the not-so-distant future, it seems that not only have I kicked my feet up on the dashboard and pulled down the shades, but I have fully engaged the kill switch, turned the heat down to low and moved some things to the back burner to reduce and caramelize into a tasty glaze.

One of those things, which became quite apparent to me when a friend decided to take some "before" pictures of me, is my appearance. As you can see by the split screen above (the picture, not my hair ... more on that in a minute), I just plain LOOK fat.

Wait a minute, you say. Hold the phone there, Chuck. You ARE fat, Mr. Man, so wouldn't it stand to reason that you'd also LOOK fat? Well, yes and no. You can BE fat and still not LOOK fat, and all without the help of smoke, mirrors and SPANX for men.

There are loads of reality shows out there telling you how do it. It's all in the clothes. And while Clinton and Stacy will tell you what not to wear, what they don't tell you is that the clothes that work the fashion slight-of-hand to make you look thin? Well, those cost some serious bank. Why else do they give you 5 grand for your shopping spree?

Point is, thin people can throw on khakis and an untucked knit shirt and look casual. But if us fat folk dare to do the same? We're not casual. We're COMFORTABLE, or "cumpfy" as it's known in Fatland. See picture above. Point proven.

Now stop right there, you say. That hair of your isn't doing you any favors. I mean, what's that on your head? A loaf of Mrs. Bairds buttered split-top bread?

Guilty as charged. At the moment my hair is longer than it's been in probably 15 years. I guess that's all part of the autopilot effect. My cowlicks have developed cowlicks.

But people have been telling me lately that it makes me look younger. And while I've never been hung up on the age thing, I kinda like hearing that. So there [INSERT STICKING MY TONGUE OUT AT YOU SOUND HERE]. I will be keeping my current do, minus some of the cowlicks that my fabulously hot hair stylist will get rid of for me soon.

And yes, it's true, that if I cut my golden locks and worked in a nice pair of slacks, spiffy shoes and a pressed shirt once in a while, then I might clean up pretty good and not look so "comfortable."

At this point, though, my cumpfy days are numbered. I'm ready for that ship to sail. In the meantime, that's not a solar eclipse happening behind you, or one of those big ass space ships from Independence Day moving over you, or a crazy throng of bat wielding, flesh eating zombies creeping up behind you. That's just me. Beep beep.

Peace, love and donut holes!


  1. Really who doesn't like Mrs. Bairds buttered split top loaf. Your a brilliant writer my friend.

  2. I am proud of you hang in there- YOU CAN DO IT!