Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
Wednesday, November 09, 2005 A Weighty Matter
I went to my annual physical the other day. On my way back to work after the appointment, I called Trash on my cell phone.
Trash: So how did it go?
Me: Well, I'm fat.
Trash: [Laughs] You're not fat.
Me: That's not what the doctor says. The doctor says I'm fat.
Trash: She didn't say you're fat.
Me: No, you're right. She said I'm, like, "not quite obese."
Trash: What?! [Hysterical laughter]
Me: I don't feel obese. I feel kind of doughy, but I don't feel obese.
Trash:[Still laughing] You are not obese.
Me: No, not quite. I think I'll grab a sundae in the Skyway somewhere and see if I can't make it official by the time I get home tonight.
Trash: By what definition are you "not quite obese?"
Me: Definition? She pulled this little BMI calculator wheel thingy out of her pocket and lined up my weight and my height and came up with "M. Giant is a lard-ass."
Trash: Okay, so it's overweight, and then lard-ass, and then obese?
Me: I was like, "I'm not six-one-and a quarter, I'm six two! Recalculate that shit, bitch!" No dice.
Trash: Come on, how much do you weigh now?
Me: Seven metric tons.
Trash: [Laughing] No, seriously.
Me: Well, what do you expect? The past year, I've been doing nothing but working on my Office Ass--Writer's Gut, in my case. There's all this Halloween candy in the house and the office that I can't stay away from, and the only exercise I get is picking up the kid. Which you do more than I do anyway. Now it's only a matter of time before I go to wipe my ass and find a sofa.
Trash: We'll get you started on a diet.
Me: Screw that. I just need more exercise. Let's make the kid fatter.
Trash: [Still laughing] We're not making the kid fatter so you can lose weight.
Me: Why not? This is my health we're talking about here. Don't you realize this puts me at risk of developing heart disease, hypertension, and diabetes? Don't you want me to live long enough to see our son develop heart disease, hypertension, and diabetes?
Trash: You know, one of the biggest things that makes you gain weight is soda.
Me: Oh, great, my one vice.
Trash: What was that you were saying about the Halloween candy?
Me: That's a seasonal vice.
Trash: Yes, but you buy enough to make it last until the Girl Scout Cookies come.
Me: That's a completely different seasonal vice.
Trash: I still think you're sexy.
Me: Thanks, Chubby Chaser. I have to go now. I'm taking the stairs back to my office.
Trash: You work on the twenty-fourth floor.
Me: Well, maybe I'm not too tubby to make it to the fifth without having a thrombo. If I don't make it, send my pants to the Save the Whales people.
Okay, I exaggerate. But as per the doctor's advice, I do plan to lose weight. And I promise not to turn this into a weight-loss blog. Unless I lose a whole shitload. posted by M. Giant 9:36 PM 7 comments
you'd be surprised how much fitter you'll get taking the stairs each day - even if it's only a couple of floors. Start out slow - do one flight up and one flight down on day one, then add a flight every couple of days. You'll be skinny in no time!
You know I love halloween candy. Save some for me, I'll be up soon!!! Can we call you M. Gigantor, now? And I'm right there with you, pally. My boyfriend from London and I will be losing 10 stone before I see him again (that's what he told me). I don't know how much that is, but seriously how much can 10 stones weigh? I'm out like Noah's water battle scene in the Bible...
The BMI calculator is a cruel and merciless thing. Keep in mind, though, it's not a complete thing, it's a piece of the puzzle.
Oh, and high fructose corn syrup is the devil in liquid form. At least drink diet. The cherry stuff you like comes in diet, and tastes a little less like brake fluid.
According to the BMI, Tom Cruise is fat. I wouldn't worry too much about it. Doctors aren't immune to obesity hysteria. Exercising is always a good idea though.
OK, the best part about this entry is that there is an ad on the right for an Obese dating site. You know, just in case Trash decides she isn't a chubby chaser after all.
"Seven metric tons."