Mike isn’t the only ShrinkGeek who has done the opposite of shrinking around here. Admittedly, his was both more dramatic and less intentional than mine, but there have been heretofore unexplored numbers showing up on my bathroom scale. In a vacuum, gravitational attraction between my body and the planet is merely a point of data that doesn’t say a whole hell of a lot. The child’s riddle about “which weighs more, a pound of feathers or a pound of nails?” applies to the meat of which we’re made, of course; a pound of fat weighs the same as a pound of muscle, but takes up a lot more space and is generally less aesthetically delicious. (Note: I can’t tell how good my marbling is, but I don’t think I’m bacon-grade flesh yet.)
Those of you who follow me elsewhere on social media will already have been treated to a variation of this rant yesterday, but, since we’re blowing the dust off stuff around here, it’s still apropos.
We had health screenings at the office yesterday, and I was about a glass of water from falling into the “Obese” category (>30.0) based on my BMI.
So, yeah – jump the cut to see the body of a quote-unquote “obese” guy.