fat bottoms – SIMCHA FISHER

7 Humiliatingly Slow Takes with Huffing and Puffing Afterward

1. I don’t know how successfully I’ve hidden this in the few photos of myself that I’ve put online, but I am 5’5″ and in the last fifteen years, I’ve put on average of seven pounds of permanent weight for each baby. This is what happens when all you do is sit down.

2. I was having stabbing pain, excruciating burning from my lower back down to my toes, tingling, numbness, and general unpredictable sciatic misery, which finally sent me to the doctor, because I couldn’t believe that I could become that debilitated just from doing nothing. The x-ray revealed that I have “mild to moderate degeneration” between the discs of my spine, brought on by age, weight gain, and inactivity, or, in layman’s terms, being a loser. I am adding that phrase, “mild to moderate degeneration,” to my list of possible new names for the new blog I’ll never start. Other possibilities I’ve gathered over the years include what Mark Shea called me one time (“History’s Greatest Monster”), what an outraged reader told my editor (“Fisher Is Unrepentant!”), and what my mechanic wrote about the van (“Misfires Badly Under Any Significant Load”).

3. A sad little drama recently played out in a shopping plaza nearby. First there was nothing but a Curves Gym. Then Five Guys Burger and Fries moved in next door. Curves held out for a while, but one day the windows went dark, and they packed up and moved away, presumably shaking their chubby fists in rage, with an embarrassing amount of flappy movement around the upper arm area, as they went. And then, in the space where Curves used to be, Rick’s Gourmet Ice Cream moved in.

4. This is not going to become one of those tedious blogs that does nothing but record how many reps or grams or kilos or whatever (wait, I think I’m talking about cocaine now) of cardio I accomplished and which variety of kale I like to add to my puke smoothie. (Sorry, I just friggin hate the whole smoothie thing. You still have teeth, people. Use ‘em.) I will try not to make a big deal out of it unless I think it would be genuinely interesting to someone besides myself and my doctor.

5. I picked out an exercise DVD that looked like a reasonable place to start. Today, I did it for the first time, and had two shocks: one is that it’s designed for senior citizens; and two, it wasn’t easy to keep up. Argh. Yep, ol’ Jane Fonda is going on and on about her titanium hip and how great it is that we’re doing so much to combat memory loss, and I’m screaming on the inside “ISN’T TWENTY MINUTES UP YET, YOU HOLLOW CHEEKED BITCH?”

6. I used to be able to run five miles. Cursing the whole way, but still, I used to be able to do it. Now, I can’t even curse for five miles straight, running or not. I don’t even have profanity stamina anymore.

7. In the week that has passed since I wrote #1-6, I have put off reading what Pope Francis said about people who complain about 73 distinct times. Because look, I got the flu, which meant that I was too weak and feverish to do my back exercises, which meant that I couldn’t sleep because of back pain, which meant that the baby decided this would be a fine time to give up sleeping. Like, just quit, flat out. She goes to bed at the normal time, but wakes up at 1:30, ready to play. The next two hours are spent with constructive thoughts like, “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME” and “HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUNCTION” and “I THINK I HAVE TWO FRIENDS NAMED LYDIA BUT MAYBE ONLY ONE I’M NOT SURE ABOUT THAT BECAUSE THERE IS THAT ONE LYDIA BUT THEN THERE IS THAT OTHER ONE ALSO AND THAT MAKES TWO BUT ON THE OTHER HAND I’M NOT SURE HOW MANY FRIENDS I HAVE NAMED LYDIA.” (See, fever.) Then I went to throw up, but my back hurt too much to reach the toilet. Also, I took a shower and it turned out the soap had a bug on it, and I was washing myself with bug.

And THAT’S why I say sometimes it’s okay to just go through your medicine chest and see what you can find. Because, sheesh.

For someone with real problems, NOT brought on by being a loser, check out our 7 Quick Takes host, Jen Fulwiler.

Seven Fat Takes

Seven Reasons Why Being Fat May Be the Right Choice For You . . . Today!

1. You are so comfortable for the kids to snuzzle up with, especially in the winter. AsMighty Mighty pointed out in the comments box of this post, kids always think bigger is better; and being nice and soft, with no bunchy muscles or anything, makes it even nicer. Not only for the kids, either.

2. Fashionwise, it’s a great time to be fat. You have sartorial choices like never before. Fifteen years ago, I remember our terrifyingly brilliant, consummately cultivated, frequently profound, secretly magnanimous, and very, very fat philosophy professor grumbling that, when he went shopping, he had a choice between a gigantic red polo shirt, or a gigantic red polo shirt with Tweety Bird embroidered on it. This is a man who, when he had a fever, once stood at the podium and taught an entire phenomenology class in German without realizing it. (He’s not German.) And everyone was too intimidated to say anything about it; we just took our notes, and liked it.

Oh, anyway, the point is that, nowadays, there are a lot more good clothes for fat people. So now, smart, fat people don’t have to wear Tweety Bird, unless they want to.

3. So many American are so much fatter than you. If you’re feeling bad, just go the mall — you’ll feel like a slender reed in no time, because you’ll be in the minority of shoppers who don’t actually require the double door to get in. Even when you’ve grown beyond bunchy, sailed past stout, and landed firmly in the land of lard, you will find that the hangers with your size on it are no longer the last one on the rack — there’s a whole new alphabet back there! This is the age of the L-cup! Boston just got a special ambulance for the obese! And look at you — you don’t even need an ambulance yet! Have another Ring Ding — you can take it, slim.

4. You get to discover that your husband is really, really in love with you, or else he’s a fantastic and indefatigable actor. Just think, if I were still the proportions I was when he met me (36-24-38, just two inches away from being zoned as a brick house!), I would always wonder if he was sticking around all these years because of me, or my measurements. Now that I’ve added the equivalent of a six-year-old child to my frame, I know it must be true love.

5. I am so easy to buy presents for. Look at the label of the item in question: does it say either “nutrition information” or “XXL?” If so, then it’s perfect for me.

6. If I see a cookie, I can just go, “Hey, I’m gonna eat that,” and then I do. Simple!

7. I’d like to add more, but I’m all out of breath from typing. Check out the other 7 Quick Takes at Jen Fulwiler’s Conversion Diary. See you on Monday, you skinny jerks.