Predicting the future of fatness...

According to a randomly googled site on the internet that I quite honestly had trouble reading, I am overweight. There's obviously varying degrees of being overweight and I'm quite sure that the alien sex wizards who control the diet pill industry heavily influence the numbers to help lower the curve and in turn sell more organic dung slushees, yet I can't help but agree with the numbers. I have a very unhealthy relationship with food and booze that has only grown more voracious as I approach the age of 30. We exist in the same symbiotic fashion as the Ouroboros, the ancient symbol comprised of a snake eating its own tail. Food's existence is validated solely by a person's willingness to ingest it and I am, more often than not, all too happy to volunteer my services. Honestly, every meal I eat mirrors that of a recently rescued shipwreck victim. It's always been this way. I'm the only person I've ever known who didn't eat meat for six years and somehow managed to gain weight. A lot of this is due to a deteriorating metabolism and an almost allergic type reaction to exercise, not to mention a nearly olympic style ingestion of alcohol. This too is a gift as well as a curse.

I started my drinking career around the age of 15 but with the tolerance level of a 66 year old drunken sea captain. It has led to countless wasted calories and untold fortunes in bar tabs, the ensuing depression of which was quickly consoled at the sight of a shoebox sized serving of buffalo wings. I have no shame about my food consumption nor my weight. I think any fashion choice that is not entirely practical, ie. tattoos, piercings, jewelry, cologne and yes, toned bodies, are simply vanity and therefore useless. I have no desire to be attractive or fit, strong and healthy or in any way physically appealling. I simply enjoy the taste of food too much to turn back now. That being said, a quick mathematical equation will show that the future does not look good for my already food-ravaged body, let alone my current wardrobe. A quick glance at my two previous driver's licenses will show the rapid rate of descent to my physical health. Here we go.

My license at 16 shows a fresh, boney faced kid ready to kick the world in its face's ass and show it who's boss. It lists my height at 6' 1" and my weight at 160 lbs. Not too shabby at all.

Cut to 2005. A little more hair on my face and little less room to maneuver around my chin area. Still, a youthful exuberance stares back and a jaw line is clearly visible. Height is now a towering 6' 2" and my weight has blossomed into a full figured 190 lbs.

Now to the present. Mr. Shit, meet mr. fan. I am still a sexy 6' 2" but we've cracked 200 in the weight department and peaked at a flabby yet mobile 215 lbs.

So let's add it up. Age 16 to age 25 we went from 165 to 190, for an average of roughly 2.8 lbs a year in weight gain. Not terrible. From age 25 to 29 we went from 190 to 215 for an average yearly gain of nearly 6.25 lbs. Not cool, Zeus. So let's assume that I've peaked and I will, at some point set foot inside the fitness center that is located on the first floor of the building I've lived in for 2 years, and combine the two numbers and come up with a mean of roughly 4.525 lbs a year. Where will I be in 30 years?

30 x 4.525 = 135.75

So, (current weight at 29 years of age) 215 + (weight gain over 30 year span) 135.75 =................holy fucking 350.75 lbs!

Here's a short list of people I know of who are 350 lbs:

Bam Bam Bigelow (Dead)
John Goodman
John Candy (Dead)
Chris Farley (Dead)
Norm from Cheers (getting close to dead)
and so on...

This is not good. Why do I get the feeling that one day I'll be having one of those What's Eating Gilbert Grape moments with my kids?

".....I wasn't always this way, you know?"