Saturday, November 19, 2005

In Just-A-Position

I get colder faster.
I can climb up stairs without wheezing.
I shop for pants more easily.
I spend less on Drakes.
I am found sexier by the wife.
I can feel my ab-abbers for the first time ever.
I can see my dick.
I get drunk, like, four times faster.
I am not recognized by people who haven't seen me in, like, 4 years.

These are all good things - there is no way to accurately express what it's like to come out of a fat-guy coccoon. Even better is watching all the fat bastards around me crash and burn as they try it too. Schadenfreude much? No, it just makes me feel more smug at what I've managed to accomplish.

Suffice it to say, there's no Don Ameche or Tahnee Welch in my particular Coccoon.