They say one should write about what one knows, so I I think I shall perhaps write about being fat.
Now, I don’t yet know if it will be a cake and pork fuelled celebration of my wobbly belly and chafing thighs or whether I shall use this as a shameful catalyst to stir me in my eternal attempt to lose weight. I haven’t quite worked myself up to a commitment one way or another yet having only just penned the thought, plus I have a rather nice hot beef and mustard sandwich that needs to be eaten before I do any sort of serious decision making.
Now if I was to attempt to lose weight, which I indeed might but let’s not be too hasty as we are still working through the premise for this piece, then It obviously goes without saying that typing will not help me shed a single chin. I am also pretty sure that a few of the particularly energetic amongst you may well be thinking that I should simply stop typing right now, wipe the quite delicious beef juice from my chubby little fingers and get myself on a treadmill or go for a nice walk. I won’t argue against that point, and the matter of the treadmill is one I will address another time most likely, but for now I think I shall either, but I shall persist with writing something first at that was my aim when I sat down. That and to eat my rather delicious sandwich which I have done whilst typing this.
So where to next I ask myself. I am not certain yet but how about I float a couple of ideas to see whether any of them stir me as to my preferred course of action:
· When bending over to pick things up became an embarrassment to my children.
· Why my jeans need pulling up whenever I stand.
· Failing at not being fat.
· Stamina, what stamina.
· I woke up with a lollipop stuck to my jumper
· What do you mean I have piles!
· Late night eating by refrigerator light.
· Please put a shirt on the neighbours might see you.
As much as that feels like Weird Al album track listing, I think I might have enough ideas to take this somewhere you know.
Perhaps I will see you next time when I tackle the difficult subject of ‘Why my bathroom scale hates me and lies just to make me feel bad about myself’.