Seriously, as we rocket toward the holidays, going out in public is like an appetite suppressant. Everywhere I look I see angry large people. And that means a lot coming from me. Look, I’m just under 6 feet and my weight hovers between 230 and 235. Now I have broad shoulders and a wide frame, so I don’t look huge or orca fat or anything. I mean, I have the  little belly and love handles I’ve always had, but I actually wear smaller waisted pants than a portion of my teen years.

So I’m not just casting stones here. I know that I could easily lose 20 pounds without any fear of being dangerously underweight. Still, the amounts of excess flesh on display these days is sickening. I mean, if your arms are bigger than my thigh, please don’t go sleeveless. If you have to cram your body into jeans, and there is a rippling swell of blubber spilling over the top like thick tasty hot fudge, please avoid halter tops.

If you are overweight, I don’t care how old or young you are, please, for the love of God, do not tie your t-shirt like a Hooters waitress. It may make your boobs look bigger, but come on…don’t you have a mirror in your trailer?

Okay, I’m starting to sound mean but I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I’m cranky. And anyway, according to the charts of weight and height I am morbidly obese. Seriously, according to the standard published material I am one cupcake away from explosion.

Or maybe one Meaning of Life biscuit…it’s wafer thin.