Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery






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Saturday, February 21, 2009


Hey! I Used to Not Be Quite So Disgusted by Myself!

So I just spent basically the entire day scanning pictures into an old laptop. (I'd go into why I'm not scanning them into the laptop on which I'm typing this, but that's another story for another day when I won't tell it either.)

Anyway, the pictures I'm scanning are from my last year of college up through about 1997, but I've been looking at even more, running right up through about 2005. It's really fantastic to kind of take a look at the breadth of one's life over the years. And it really hammers home one major point: I'm motherfucking fat.

The grey in my beard, I'm okay with, mostly. Yeah, it's freaky to see that it wasn't there just a few years back, but I don't really give a shit about that. The other sign of age that I can't really do anything about is my jowls. I'm destined to be a jowly bastard and there's nothing I can do about it. The jowls have been there all along, it's just that they're more pronounced when I'm as plump as I am right now.

Which is pretty goddamn plump. I look at pictures of me from the year-and-a-half when I lived in Arizona or soon after our arrival in Seattle and I have to mentally add five inches of lard to even recognize the person as me. This was mostly because I was too poor to afford to eat very often, but dammit, I was skinny.

My wife, of course, is sweet enough to say, "Honey, you were too thin then. You look better a little filled out." Which actually translates to: "You are such a fucking whale. What the hell happened to the marginally attractive guy I agreed to move in with?"

I'm flailing around trying to find an excuse and I have to resort to the kid. With the kid here, we're both tired all the time and we're more inclined to just give in to our lazier tendencies and not exercise.

So, son, if you're reading this fifteen years from now and your father hasn't been able to see his feet in recent memory, just remember that it's all your fault.

Stop whining and eat a cake, fatty.
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