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2018-07-07

The Day...the Fitness...Died...

"Bye, Bye Miss American Pie, You're So Freaking Heavy That The Buddha Would Cry, You Think 4XL Stretchy Pants Hide All The Donuts and Pie, You Suntan and We All Wonder Why? You Suntan and We All Wonder Why?"  So I go out to the beach this morning in my post-insomnia daze to get some air and stretch my legs, fishing rod in-hand (just in case). No breakfast, trying to cut down a bit with just a little protein powder on-board, I feel a slight twinge of empty stomach churn as I pass a couple "walk of shamers" coming the other way. I hear the familiar slap of my bare feet on the wooden ramp leading to the beach and pick up the scent of salt air and dry seaweed. Walking out on the sand, I'm suddenly struck with a sense of horror! It's a mass marine mammal stranding! But wait! Whales can't walk upright. What? Whales can't sit up like Buddha slathering sunblock on large-curd cottage cheese thighs and bingo-winged appendages. What gives? I walk carefully, slowly, so not to alarm the wildlife. One beached creature is laying with it's tail fins in the water. I peer out into the early morning Gulf of Mexico, hoping to see the rescue boats coming to throw lines around these things tails and drag them back out to sea. Help them!  Help them! I silently plead in vain. Then I hear a crunch! A sick, nauseating crunch! I turn and to my amazement, one of them is holding a giant-sized bag of potato chips and voraciously stuffing them into it's gaping mouth like it's the last meal they'll ever get and they've stopped making original Lays! I'm aghast! Gobsmacked! Frozen in disbelief and disgust. Arrrgh. Brrrr. Yikes! Eeek! OMG!!! WTF... How have people gotten so fat? Do we blame it on leggings big enough to put on a hippo? Walmart swimsuits in sizes 2XL, 4XL, and Volkswagen? Do we blame it on TV shows with 400-pound women both pre and post heart attack, tragically proclaiming how good their lives are? Bullshit flag. You can tell they're lying. The "bleeding heart channel" put them up to it. It can't be that good if the term "morbidly obese" would describe someone half that size. Chips? What? Stuffing chips (crisps to my European friends) in your craw like you're starving at 8:30 in the morning? At a minimum 200 pounds overweight and stuffing chips? Ever hear of a salad? How about an apple? I'm no fitness model, but what the f---?  Seriously? Now don't give me your diagnosis of the mental pathology. Save it. Spare me. It's gluttony. Overindulgence. Nothing more. Gourmandism. Reprehensible overeating. Why not just stop using your hands entirely and bury your face in whatever you're eating. How about some restraint? Get rid of the fun-house mirror you obviously have in your house that says you're thin and those legging are "working for you." They're not. Or have a welcoming party for all the medical ailments, the stroke and heart attack that will eventually come your way. This morning, it might just be the day the very idea of fitness died. Don't worry though, for every person out their struck queasy by the sight of the beached whales (both male and female), there is somebody screwed-up enough to look at that person in their Volkswagen swimwear and say "yeah, I'd do that," which is another conversation entirely.

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