Two Bagger

If you were really tasked to think about it, what would make you happy in half-pound increments? Would a half-pound hamburger delight you? Perhaps a half-pound of cocaine? Solid gold, a little gleaming ingot?

For me, this last week I was made slightly happier with the removal of a half pound of something rather than its addition: I now weigh a Slyph-like 223.0 pounds. That’s right, apparently all the whining and complaining about being a whale managed to burn away at least 1700 kCals of stored energy in the form of human adipose tissue. And you thought the groaning on about inspiration and disappointment was wasted time!

But not one to rest on my laurels, I fully intend to bitch and moan some more until another half-pound melts off my ass. Actually, if it’s true that just being really pissed about obesity burns calories, I intend to go around being angry all the time and just grouse my way to Nirvana.

If nothing else, imagine the conversations at the grocery store:

Underpaid Teenaged Clerk Named Candy: “Hello sir, did you find everything you needed today?”

Me: “Yeah, and about fifty more pounds of it in the ‘Disgusting Middle-Aged Phenomena Isle.”

Candy: “I’m new to the store sir, is that by fresh produce?”

Me: “Trust me, Cindy, there is nothing fresh OR tasty about a bitter, fat guy.”

Candy: “My name is Candy, and uh, do you need any stamps or ice today?”

Me: “Only if a bag of ice can sooth the disappointment of not having a date in several years.”

Candy: “Oh God… I uh, have a boyfriend. Two! Big ones. Oh man, Mom told me this was a bad idea… uhm… what was I supposed to do… oh yeah! Paper or plastic?”

Me: “Any chance I’ll ‘accidentally’ suffocate in a paper bag while checking the bottom for loose change?”

Candy: “…”

Me: “Plastic. And don’t forget to double bag the ice cream, please. Last time it fell out and I had to bend over to pick it up. Which, trust me, that ain't something anybody wants to see."

Candy: “Manager to checkout 7…”

Hey, could be fun!

Pigassus