Wednesday, February 15, 2012
You know what I love about metric weight? When the doctor tells you that you weigh 124 kilos, you actually think it's good. After all, it starts with a '1', it must be okay! It's not till you get home and do the math that you realize that you are 273 lbs. WHATTHEFUCK. Based on a height weight chart, I am supposed to be about 147 lbs. That means I am essentially carrying another person on my frame. You know when people joke that "it looks like you ate someone!"? I REALLY DID. My BMI is 42.9. HOLY CRAP. That other person that I ate? Essentially, a giant Adipose. (Note: People might be upset at this point that I am angry at myself for being a weight that may be smaller than them. If I could remind you of my former treatise about how I don't care about you, your weight, or your opinions, that would be just great.) This is way beyond a little junk in the trunk, or "You Go Girl, Be Big and Beautiful!", and veering dangerously into "I wash myself with a rag on a stick" territory. My bones were not made to carry this much weight. GAH.