|This lonely little Jewish man says:|
"Sometimes gravity really gets me down.
Also, can I borrow your comb?"
And what about your "roommate", Mass? What a jerk. You and he are always teaming up on people and you never play fair. "Oh look Mass! A passenger jet just lost a wing in mid-flight. Hey, I have a cool idea. Let's crash it into the ground at tremendous speed and kill everyone!" And the whole "roommate" thing? Who do you think you're kidding with that one? No one, that's who! Do roommates hold hands in public or share a collection of every Judy Garland movie ever made? DO THEY?!
And don't even get me started on Electromagnetism. She is like a bazillion times stronger than you...and she's a girl! A teeny-tiny refrigerator magnet can hold little Billy's crayon drawing of "Gwamma" up forever. And all the gravitational force you can derive from all the mass of entire planet Earth cannot make the magnet move. Like, at all. Not even a tiny little bit. You are such a poser, Gravity. Oh, and that whole "infinite velocity" thing is so totally not proven. It's a matter of some debate in the physics community. Some debate.
|I can sure impress the ladies with 5/6 less gravity.|
This has happened exactly zero times.
Needless to say, Gravity, Mass and I have had some unpleasantness in the past. We were all cool when I was young, but around 19 my metabolism and I began to harbor anger toward Gravity and Mass. Each time I would stand on my bathroom scale the number would get higher and higher. It was at 19 that I got my first apartment and began to realize the folly of my Mother's dietary structure. It was then that I began to do things my Mother would have never allowed: eating Doritos for breakfast, then taking a nap, then having eight spoonfuls of Cool Whip for dinner. Oh, and did I mention I rarely moved from the couch except to go to work (where, incidentally, I also spent the entire day sitting down)? So, after years of getting drunk on this freedom and liberation, the number on the scale had gone up. Way up. To 320 pounds. I had become what medical science affectionately refers to as "morbidly obese".
Apparently this distinction is tied to my Body Mass Index, or BMI. Ones BMI is based upon an arbitrary formula invented by elementary school bullies. The BMI numbers are primarily used to determine which members of society belong to one of the two demographics that it's still totally okay to mock, ridicule, and stereotype in movies (seriously, can you think of a single film where the "fat guy" was not the villain or the fool?). My BMI was 49. This was well beyond the "Hey look Mommy! Look at that fat man!" range, and creeping closer and closer to "Just hold on Sir. The forklift will be here soon to take you to the emergency room." territory. I was not quite fat enough to get a TLC special made about me, but far too fat to get through a day without being reminded of what a lard-ass I was.
|Having a plan is the key to success.|
This situation was, of course, not my fault at all. But rather, totally the fault of Gravity and his registered "life-partner", Mass; but mostly Gravity. Sure, it was that jackass Mass (or "Jackmass") that made my appearance less than awesome and put me in the position of having to buy my clothes at a "special store." But it was Gravity that pulled me down toward the core of the Earth. It would pull me harder and harder; making the number on the scale go higher and higher. I had grown to hate them both. Hate them for what they were doing to me. What's more, they had told my doctor to lie to me. Lie to me. They told her to keep telling me that I had to "lose weight" or I wouldn't "live" to see my children "grow up." She was lying. Just a lying liar that was lying. That's what she was. She could be forgiven though. It was Gravity and Mass that were truly to blame here.
But now, nearly 20 years later, I am proud to say that Gravity, Mass, and I are all walking the path of reconciliation. And this week we are all finally friends again! And what brought about this "pax gravitas"? What was behind the greatest peace since the 2311 Treaty of Algernon? One simple fact: I am no longer morbidly obese! Oh, I am still regular obese, to be sure. But that dreaded "morbidly" prefix is gone. In the past year I have lost over 50 pounds; going from 320 down to 266. And this has brought my BMI all the way down to 39, taking me officially out of the morbidly obese "fatx bracket" (see what I did there?). Now I am frolicking in the fantastical world of plain ol' obesity. Suck on THAT Gravity! Not so tough now are ya?
I think my success is a testament to my personal will and determination. And by "will and determination" I mean "medication and determination". And by that I mean "medications used to treat my soft bipolar and ADD." Actually, the only real will and determination shown on my part was to take my meds, every day, without fail. So that counts for something right? Yes it does. It sure does. Like they say: "nothing tastes as good as being less fat then you were last year feels."
The next goal for me is to leave the obese ranks completely; to get down to just being "overweight". To do that, I will need to lose another 70 pounds; giving me a BMI of 29.9. When I can accomplish that it will really be, ironic adjectives aside, a big deal.