I’m sitting at the car dealership waiting on my vehicle… it’s getting an oil change and the tires mounted about balanced.
I’m flanked by two people, one man, one woman, sipping on milk shakes. The man is morbidly obese, easily pushing 400 pounds. The woman, maybe 5’2″ easily weighs 40 pounds more than I do at 6′. I can hear both of them laboring to breathe.
My wife and I were about 18 miles into our ride and a motorist waited for us to pull out. She barely fit in her small SUV and it was listing badly.
I feel sorry for fat people. I know me, and I would constantly have a member of the melon committee nagging about the extra weight. “You’re 46 years old and fat. You’re going to die soon. That heart of yours can’t take much more of this.”
On the other hand, there is one reason I’m still in the green with my BMI, even with my massive legs. There’s one reason I can still run and play with my kids. There’s one reason why I feel better today than I did when I was 30… There’s one reason, at 46, I’m on no medication. No blood pressure meds, no diabetes meds, nothing… I hardly need an Aleve once or twice a month.
I push myself away from the table before I’m full.
Oh, and this:
Lots and lots of that. But for the grace of God, there go I.