Weekly Shot #20 - Fat Grandpa
My grandpa was fat. His belly hung out in such a perfect sphere in front of his short frame that it must have been designed by a deity with an eye for proportionality. It looked like he had a very large bowling ball tucked under his sweatshirt at all times. Luckily, it wasn’t as hard as a bowling ball. When I hugged him my face would melt into that soft, gelatinous goodness and I’d feel like I was where I was supposed to be.
For the rest of my life if I saw a skinny grandpa I figured they were dying. Anything sub 300 pounds, in my mind, was emaciation. Was a grandpa even a grandpa if he didn’t have a paunch with a beer (or a Manhattan in my Grandpa’s case) resting on it? Doubtful.
This is where my problem lies. I may get gasps, or jeers, or tomatoes thrown at me from the Hell or Hangover faithful when I say this but I must always be honest - I shed weight. If I’m not drinking and consistently running or lifting, weight falls right off. I could be a bulbous 220 but give it a week of relatively healthy living and I’ll be right back to 205. This isn’t a problem perse, unless you want to be fat. And I do. I really want to be fat. Maybe not today, but someday. I want the world to know I enjoyed my life and what better way to show it than just letting go? More importantly, I want my grandkids to feel my soft, gelatinous goodness and feel like they are where they’re supposed to be.
I know being a grandpa is far off in the distance. I have at least 20 years before I become old and decrepit and honored, if lucky, with the title of grandpa. For one, I have to make sure my own children survive to the age of being able to procreate. For two, I have to make sure they are nice enough humans to acquire a mate to procreate with. For three, I have to make sure they make good decisions and don’t mate with a piece of shit that I don’t want to spend any time with. These are big ifs but I have confidence in my wife and me. Once these three criteria are met it will be my time to shine and I want to make sure I am of the appropriate size and weight to don such a glorious title as grandpa.
This is going to be tough not only because of my proclivity to stay in shape without trying but also because of the day and age we currently live in. No one drinks anymore. No one smokes anymore. No one eats more than their fill anymore. Everyone is on to the next health kick before the last one is done kicking. There are diet pills and Ozempic and an assortment of other things to lose weight when what I need is the exact opposite. Even this here application Substack has a way of shoving health down my throat that I never asked for.
They clearly have my algorithm screwed up because I have never and will never subscribe to anyone’s Substack that is shelling out advice on how to live a healthier life. These self-helpers are the antithesis of the way I’ve lived and want to continue to live. I’m more of a
guy and less of a Huberman guy. I am not trying to optimize my human potential, I am just trying to be a human. I am sure theseI can’t shit on Substack Reads too much. Now at least I know where to start. From this day forward I will not be taking any stairs. If there is any other contraption that can move me up or down in any building I will be taking that instead. This will be step one (pun intended) on my twenty-year journey to becoming a fat grandpa. I have two decades to build a nice round ball of a mid-section. It won’t be easy. There will be tough times ahead. But I shall overcome.
P.S. – I know the older gentleman here are probably giggling. Don’t worry, dumbass, you’ll be fat soon enough. I hope they are right.
P.P.S. – Sorry to my wife for future me. You know who you married, hun. This was destined.
P.P.P.S. - If you have any other steps I can take in my weight gain journey, please leave a comment. Any advice helps.
Don’t mention it
Thank god someone is looking out for your wife ⬆️