Passing the Big, Fat Buck

"It's not you - it's your metabolism."

I heard this slogan for one of the umpteen million weight loss programs out there last night, as their ad showing before and after pictures of success ran on my television.

Now, I can't remember if they were hocking pills, drinks, injections or snake oil, but I do remember instantly writing down their slogan while trying desperately not to piss myself.

While I certainly shouldn't be surprised that some company has gone this route, what with Acid Reflux having graduated from a pain-in-the-ass that makes you pop a couple Zantac and deal with to a full-blown disease, this one certainly takes the cake.

Umm... cake.

D'you know why I'm tipping the scales at 210 pounds? It certainly isn't because of my metabolism...

It might have something to do with the general lack of exercise, piss-poor diet and enjoyment of smoking, not to mention making like the fat kid in the picture two times over every time I hit the Golden Arches.

Here's the truth: while genetics certainly play a role in a person's weight, so too does chowing down on more fast food than fresh vegetables no matter how many times you get a Diet Coke with your combo.

But outside of the hyper-healthy screaming freakshows on The Biggest Loser, no one wants to tell the "slim challenged" set that they had anything to do with being the weight they are.

So they blame genetics.

Or your metabolism.

Or work, family life, a lack of time, opportunity or just about every other variable imaginable.

Don't worry, it's not you: your metabolism is to blame.

Now drive a block and a half to the corner store and pick up a 2L of Diet Coke, two bags of Doritos and a couple of Snickers to make yourself feel better.

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I Am a McFatty

So we had to go into Cranbrook today to do some running around and when the question turned to, "What do you wanna get to eat?" McDonald's was the easy choice.

Honestly, I don't care how bad this makes me sound in today's health conscious times, I fuckin' love McDonald's.

Living in Kimberley actually makes me love it more, because unlike all those years of living in fairly close proximity to a store, it has become a luxury item once again and each trip becomes more than a meal. It becomes a feast.

Case and point, today.


Most normal humans purchase a meal and are happy with that. Some supersize the bad boy and score themselves a few extra fries and more soda to wash down the greasy goodness.

Me? I go full on Fatty McSnack. McChicken Meal with the world famous McDonald's orange nuke juice and two - not one, but two - double cheeseburgers.

Sheer greasy delight.

Of course, the downside is that it's been six hours since I ate and I'm still not hungry, not to mention the fact that I'll probably be able to shit through the eye of a needle at forty pace come tomorrow morning.

But none of that matters when you're standing in line at the Golden Arches...

All that matters is the deliciousness!

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