Over the last thirty years, my doctors have told me to take the extra weight off.
Get in shape, or suffer a heart attack, stroke, or much worse, the inability to sustain an erection.
My body as a whole looks bad, but from the pulling and pulling,
my right arm could make the Olympic tug-o-war team.
I bragged to one female doctor that I have had my share of orgasms and hoped to one day have one with a woman present.
My docs just don’t understand how to achieve happiness. When I put a large Snickers bar in my mouth, for the thirty or forty seconds it takes to clear out the gooey chocolate peanut confection,
I am in a state of joyous euphoria.
How long does an orgasm last– half a second?
I look forward to the enormous sandwich that I eat before bedtime. Stacked with processed meats, a slab of Velveeta, and only Hellmann’s real mayonnaise. Sometimes it messes with my sleep, but the colorful, vivid dreams are worth it. I once dreamed that I was running through a field of pizzas being chased by a long salami.
One doctor asked me If I wanted to end up a disfigured blob of fat, sitting in a wheelchair, waiting for a diaper change. I went straight from his office to Burger King and ate a Double Whopper without even breathing until it was finished. It is eating like this in the face of impending doom that makes me wonder, “Am I frigging nuts?”
I have said this before, but, with baby steps, I’m going turn this around.
Bite-sized Snickers bars, fat free bologna, mustard instead of mayonnaise.
I can do it. I can give up my happiness for a long healthy life full of Romaine lettuce, celery, and skim milk.