Some guys, yours truly included, gain a few extra pounds once they ‘settle down? to the good life with loving wife and picture perfect kids. Recently, I got to wondering why.
Why do we get thicker, dumpier and more corpulent?
Let’s get one thing out in the open: I’ve never been one confused with a bean pole, nor a scare crow, nor a skinny person. I was one of those kids who had to endure the yearly department store torture — which is something so sinister the Red Chinese thought about switching from the water torture routine. Department store torture usually took place right before school started for the fall. Every August you could find me and Mom looking for school clothes in the ‘husky? isle. If I remember correctly, there was usually a giant, flashing neon arrow pointing to that isle, with an equally as bright sign directing ‘Fatties This Way!?
No, it wasn’t embarrassing at all.
I guess you can say I’ve always been ‘big-boned.? My entire adult life, however, I was able to maintain the same stoutness. And, with creative dressing techniques, up until the addition of those two picture perfect children, Shamus, 7, and Sean, 4, I was able to subdue my bulkiness with sweaters — I just looked ‘thick? not portly. Things have changed. As a matter of fact, right now as you are reading this, somebody is probably calling my wife a ‘chubby chaser.?
Damn, their eyes!
I guess I’ve been thinking rotund thoughts because I have not been able to shake off the 25 pounds I want. The only thing that happens now when I try to shake those pounds off is they jiggle and wiggle (and I am sure, giggle).
It’s not a pretty sight.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not whining. I’m not saying I’m depressed. My hefty problem hasn’t weighed heavily on my mind (my knees probably aren’t too happy with my excess baggage, but my mind is okay with it). I just want to know why.
Why? Why? Why?
I’ve given up the daily morning donut and I’m a little more active. Still, no results, only questions with no answers.
I was going to blame my parents because that is the trendy excuse used these days. If you have an emotional or personal problem, don’t look in the mirror. It is far easier to look into the past at somebody else’s mistakes than to lay the blame on yourself. Right? Since I am one hip, cool and trendy chunkosaurus, I was looking for my excuse.
One recent day, I was ready to admit, ‘I must have a glandular problem. It’s not my fault when I go to the beach some kid runs away screaming something about getting a harpoon for the albino Shamu.?
Like I said, I was just about to blame my parents for my genetic flaws, when I came to my senses. I cannot blame dear old Mom and Dad. It is my problem. Self induced. They contributed not one ounce to my 250 pound problem.
Then I pushed away from the kitchen table after having my one helping of dinner. Jennie was finished, as were the lads. After putting my plate into the sink, I reached for Sean’s. And, without thinking I took his fork, filled it with the ‘still good? food on his plate and put it in my mouth. I did the same with Shamus?.
Waste not . . .
. . . Want not.
There are starving kids in China.
Clean your plate.
I work hard to provide a roof over your head, clothes (all be them ‘husky?) on your back and food on your plate.
Don’t waste good food.
Ohmygod!
I figured it out! It was their fault. Mom and Dad are to blame. Their good-intentioned guilt trips from 30 years ago are keeping me full-bodied today! There you go. If I stop cleaning off the boys? plates, maybe I can return to my morning donut.
I love it when a plan comes together.
Comments for his Bulkiness can be e-mailed to: dontrushmedon@charter.net