So Very, Very Unhealthy

At this point, I’ve just about given up on health, at least as far as worrying about mine. I can be described, in all honesty, as a rather rotund fellow. That’s the source of my street name, ‘Johnny Rotund’. I prefer it to my other street name, ‘Vanilla Pudding’, which I earned because I’m very white, rather sweet, and have an embarrassing tendency to jiggle when I move. Odd thing is, though, I have noticed that many people’s first comment to me after a while out of my presence is that I look like I’ve lost weight. I’ve come to the conclusion that this is because I expand in people’s memories in proportion to the time that has passed since they last saw me. I was out of the country for about 18 months, by which point most people remembered me as being about the size of Marlon Brando.

And I am expanding, but not quite that quickly. Give me another ten years, and I’ll probably be up into Fat Joe territory. Then I’ll die of heart failure, and they’ll burn my body, covering the city with the delicious smell of BBQ. So at least I’ll give something back, in the end. I won’t so much commit suicide as sofa-cide, inflating ‘til I’m at a one ass-cheek to one sofa cushion ratio. Achieving cheek-to-cushion parity, as it were.

I was a big guy before joining the Army, and am a big guy now, but I also managed to be large and in charge during my time of service, which annoyed the hell out of my First Sergeant. I admit it doesn’t make much sense, being overweight in a job where you basically get paid to work out every morning. It takes some effort, I gotta admit. You have to be down at Denny’s every day, finishing off that double cheeseburger and fries, having a slice or two of cheesecake, whether you want to or not. It’s true that choosing to piss off an NCO rather than tending to my long term health might not have been the best choice, but I stand by it. The First Sergeant turned such a charming shade of maroon when he got angry, y’see.

Anyway, I’m done. To hell with it. Every time I run, small children laugh at me, and I cough up something that looks like escargot. So I’m gonna enjoy myself. My new meal plan calls for just one meal a day. When I first started it, the meal was a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream, usually New York Super Fudge Chunk, or Chocolate Fudge Brownie. I like fudge a lot. But that proved not quite enough, so now I fry up about a pound of bacon, which I then chop fine and then mix with the ice cream. And just recently, I’ve started deep frying the whole mixture. It’s immense, I tells ya. I can usually get through with the whole thing in two, sometimes three, heart attacks. You should try it.