Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Where Does Fat Go? By Elder Sister Carol

It seems my Elder Sister (Carol Crookedhajib) has given up guzzling mouthwash and has taken up writing. If you have been trying to lose those extra 10-25lbs for say....oh...I don't know...maybe, the last 3 to 20 years...take heart, and have a GREAT READ!

Where does fat go?

Ever wonder where fat goes when you lose it? I think it comes to my house.

Fat floats around looking for a willing body. I’m convinced I have 30 pounds that rightfully belong to someone else. And some of it must be my husband’s fault. When fat cells float over our bed at night, why can’t he absorb some of them?

It’s sort of like “The Three Bears.” The fat cells look at him and say, “No, he’s too firm.”

Then they float over to me and say, “She’s just right. Perfect for a fat attack!”

Lately, it’s as if fat cells have rented tour buses and taken the scenic route to my side of the bed.

“Your theory is not biologically true,” Bill said when I made him change sides of the bed with me. “Fat flushes out of the body with other liquids.”

I had him there. “Have you seen that guy on TV who lost 75 pounds in two months?” I asked. “Do you really think anyone can pee away 75 pounds in two months?”

“False advertising,” Bill said. “When you lose weight, fat is converted to energy. It just goes out into the air.”

I had him there. “My point exactly,” I said. “Out into the air, watching and waiting for me.”

“You’re becoming paranoid,” he warned.

“With my luck, paranoia has calories,” I said, but by then he wasn’t listening.

Slim people don’t understand fat. Biological Bill has what he calls his Pepsi and Frito diet.” With every meal, he eats a small bag of Fritos and drinks a Pepsi. Within two days he says, “Wow! I’ve lost three pounds.”

I floss the alfalfa sprouts out of my teeth before I get on the scales. (You wouldn’t think grazing could cause so many problems.) If he’s lost three pounds, they’ve found me.

The answer is for me to invent a kind of radar for fat. There would be a lot of money and maybe even a Nobel prize for a machine like that. Rich, thin, and recognized – that would be great.


Anonymous said...

Are those your toes showing in the photo of the scale?

Elder Sister

JihadGene said...

Carol- Naw. I wish it was me. That's a photo I got from That 1 Guy, who's blog is called "Drunken Wisdom". He rocks, and has a sense of humor just like somebody I know. He weighs less than me, damn him, and it is his toes pictured. That 1 Guy is losing weight by doing some new high-tech kinda thing called "exercise".

I loved your story, Carol!
(The caller of JackAsses)

Anonymous said...

Hmmm, Dare I or dare I not... to comments whacked at the root... WTF here goes.

I wouldn't call it a radar for fat, I'd call it a fatdar. Obviously, fatdar will only detect the presence of the jiggley stuff.

What you really want is a fatriot missle that's shoot it down 'fore it gets to you(or me). My fat comes in beer can. But it's bad form to shoot down a beer. Even if you saw it comin'.

Boomer Baby Carol said...

Kinda makes you wonder what was deleted, doesn't it?

I like your ideas, but I don't have much that jiggles anymore. It's just solidly on, or it hangs like a cheap pair of drapes.

I suppose your experiences with beer mean I probably shouldn't try the Bud and peanuts diet I had been considering.

JihadGene said...

Yo! JG's Elder Slister!

No peanutz! Bad-four-you! You can drinks copious amounts of Brudweizer Bleer and eat dried squid tentacles. Salty and very good for brud pressure and bad knees!

Great Reader

That 1 Guy said...

Thanks for the compliment, oh Caller of Jackasses!