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April 22, 2001 :: "Baby got back"
For a nation of health-conscious individuals, we sure are fat. Michigan is now the second fattest state. Such a dubious honor.
I was sipping coffee in Starbucks this morning. As I casually looked out the window, I watched in horror as a woman, a full metric ton overweight, passed by. None of my business, true. It was the Daisy Duke shorts she had chosen to inhabit like some great, primordial parasite that disturbed me.
Like a redneck passing a grisly traffic accident, I couldn’t pull my eyes away. This woman had chosen to wear denim cutoffs that would be revealing on a size-four female. As an added bonus, numerous slits were strategically placed across the gluteal area to emphasize the lack of undergarments. Cellulite was oozing through the over-taut fabric openings like Poppin’ Fresh Dough after a really good counter slam.
Not that I haven’t had my share of stares for my own weight problems. Mine were the reverse. As a teenager I was 6' 3" and all of 140 lbs. I resembled a myopic praying mantis. The Amish would often tie horses to my shoulders if I stood still too long.
Fortunately in the mid 1980s when I was in college, thin was in and I was able to make some money modelling. As a CD rack.
My metabolism has finally slowed. I began putting on muscle at a rate that suggested the ingestion of low-grade anabolic steroids. Muscle is staying in place where once it shrank faster than a spandex skirt in a commercial dryer. I am now a respectable 200 lbs and Stick Death Theatre has finally stopped calling me to participate.
Years of computer work has prevented me from obtaining any natural Vitamin D so with my ghost-like pallor [a lovely G-3 tan] and penchant for wearing stretchy, black T-shirts, I am often mistaken by underage Buffy fans as one of Spike’s less desirable friends. I make Anne Rice’s character’s look positively Mediterranean.
But I digress ...
I won’t pretend to have answers for America’s weight problems. I don’t. I’ve fought my personal weight battle and won. And the only conclusion I can draw is this. If I ever get the urge to triple my weight and prance about in garments sized for Kate Moss, you have full permission to shoot me.
Your description of the woman's cellulite has caused me to lose my lunch. On the upside, now I can wear those daisy duke shorts this evening.
>>I am often mistaken by underage Buffy fans as one of Spike?s less desirable friends.<<
Ummm Anne? That was meant to be a bad thing.
Bad thing. Right. Of course.
Read _Fast Food Nation_--that'll shed a little light on the weight problem.
I've been meaning to read that. I saw some exceprts online a month or so ago. Looks amazing/scary.
He said. She said. There’s 6 Comments
Leia :: 22 April, 2001 05:13 PM
You are? Da-yamn!
The pics are where? 8-)
pixeldiva :: 22 April, 2001 07:31 PM
Davezilla :: 22 April, 2001 09:16 PM
It's a bad thing. A very bad thing.
[cough]
pixeldiva :: 23 April, 2001 08:00 AM
Dick Paris :: 23 April, 2001 10:15 AM
Davezilla :: 23 April, 2001 03:42 PM
All material is ©2001 Dave Linabury. All rights reserved.