My Belly has Dementia

Enough is enough, I get the picture. Every time I watch a television program in the month of January; I am inundated with commercials that promise me I can lose weight. Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, you name them. I am shamed daily into believing that I am a sofa loving, snack eating, hopeless porker who needs to go on a diet.

I am wary of commercials that promise thinness with a pill or miracles from machinery. I have yet to see an advertisement that guarantees I won’t blow a calf muscle on a high price elliptical machine. Oh, and don’t you love how they squeeze the perfect little bodied spokesperson into a shrink-wrapped outfit and say I can look like him or her within a few weeks? I think not! News bulletin, if I wore one of those outfits, I’d look like an aneurysm in tube socks. Have me do a stair-stepper machine for an hour but bring a dustpan and broom because parts are going to fall off.

Each commercial shows before and after pictures of high profile customers. I think I’m being lied too. With the advent of Photoshop software, how can I be sure they aren’t pulling the Little Debbies over my eyes? I’ve been in Wal-Mart weekly and I have yet to see a real skinny person in years.

What is it about food that gets us so betwixt? See I’m already thinking candy bar with that last question! Food calms us, it comforts us. My wife recently asked me what were my favorite comfort foods. I took her to Olive Garden and showed her the whole menu.

I’ve made some progress; I have eschewed mint chocolate chip ice cream. I don’t eat anything that tastes like toothpaste.

A recent study was heralded in print that found people with belly fat increase their chance of developing dementia three-fold. The news came too late for me; apparently dementia begins at the feet and heads north. Dementia is beginning to slowly crawl up my body. My belly must already have it, because it can’t remember when it was skinny.

I’ve come to grips with the fact that this is the year I have to lose weight! I went to buy a pair of pants at a mens store and I misunderstood the sales clerk. She asked me how long I had had a ruffled bottom? I thought she was talking about the pants. She wasn’t, she meant the bottom in the pants.

I’m awaiting the next body tightening infomercial right now. Can we work towards buns of aluminum foil first before we get to steel?

About enthusiasmiscontagious

I am an individual who analyzes all facets of life in the hopes of squeezing out some of the humorous parts.
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