Big Fat Failure...

I am not as svelte as I would like to be. Like many men on the wrong side of fifty, I have acquired more of me than intended. My brain, however, has not compensated for this, happily delusional that I'm still twenty-something and many, many pounds lighter.

Reality bites when you hit the clothing stores. My regular tailors, that would be Costco, or Burlington Goat Factory, only have pants that go up to size forty-four. That's it, the very last plastic marker on the rack. In the forty-four section are the saddest remnant of pants left on planet Earth. Now, the option remains to buy forty-two and maneuver the waistline to below the battle of the bulge, but then five inches of pant leg is left trailing in the dirt.

Fortunately, you can mask the evidence of your bountiful belly with Hawaiian shirts that go up to size XXXL, or even better. Shorts counteract the cuffs-in-the-dust problem, and with your new found confidence, in your fat-casual outfit, you go buy something to eat.

I'm pretty good at avoiding fast food outlets, but when I do occasionally indulge, I realize that this is all their fault.

First of all, you are hungry when you go in. The dollar menu looks like an insult to all that is male, so you order something larger. If it has the word “macho” connected to it, that is the obvious choice. You join the line of people all looking up at the pretty pictures and decide what you want. Then the fiendish sales person gets you with their trick language.

"Everything on it?"

Stupid question. I'm paying for everything, of course I want everything.

"Would you like fries with that?"

Damn straight I want fries, now that you've mentioned it.

"Would you like to upgrade to the Mega Meal for just fifty cents more?"

I mean, fifty cents! I know a bargain when I see one.

So, within the space of ten to fifteen seconds, I have just doubled my calories, fat and sodium. Feeling guilty, I thus counteract the effects of this excess by ordering the Super-Mega-Thirst-Quencher, and drink a bucket of diet-something.

The evil continues. Having porked out once, the brain computes that the damage is done for the day, and that there is no reset button, until you have had a good night’s sleep. The rest of the day is, thus, ruined, so you drown your sorrows in even more calories.

The next day, you feel guilty and full of remorse, but you just spent the previous day stretching your stomach. It is hungry. You have relinquished all control, you have surrendered your body to the world of Mega.

Told you that it was all their fault...

C

If you enjoy this hub, please check out my book,

Homo Domesticus; A Life Interrupted By Housework,

A collection of my best writings woven into a narrative on a very strange year in my life.

Available directly from:

http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/homo-domesticus/12217500

Chris