Unexplained Gain
As I stepped off the fancy digital scale my wife had bought a few months ago, I winced at the flashing number that was seemingly taunting me about how much fatter I had become in such a short time. The scale was so fancy that I half expected it to display a message like, "lose some weight Lardo!" Instead, it stopped flashing my weight, 2-8-8 point 7, and started flashing my BMI, 42.0. "Jeez" I mutter under my breath, that officially puts me in the Morbidly Obese" BMI category which kicks in a BMI of 40 or above. And my mind starts pondering how much more I'd need to weigh to break the "Super Obese" BMI mark of 50 ...
The odd thing about it that I'm at a total loss to explain my weight gain of a little over 40 pounds in just eight months. Back around Christmas I had reached a ten-year low of 248 pounds and even though that was the result of a nasty bout of the flu, my weight before that was still less than 260. It only took me a couple of weeks to get back to my pre-flu weight, but then I held pretty constant until around April or so, when I crept back to 265. By May it was more like 270 and by July it was more like 280. Now, it's the end of August and I'm a few donuts shy of 290!
I don't think I'm eating that much and, in fact, have been really good the last few months about avoiding donuts and pastries and other things like that I know will make me fat, or rather fatter. Sure, I may be drinking more Cokes than I should, sneaking one during the day at work (sometimes two), one for the drive home, and one (OK sometimes two) once I get home. And I limit myself to two bowls of cereal in the morning, supplementing them some days with a McDonald's sausage and egg biscuit (or two when they run a special). Lunch is always pretty light, although I "top off" mid-afternoon with a snack from my company's snack drawer (usually a bag of chips or a Twinkee or a bag of Famous Amos cookies), then sometimes another snack around 6 when I usually leave for home. And I rarely finish all my dinner. In fact when my wife asks "didn't you like it?," I truthfully have to respond "there was just too much to finish." Granted, my wife had gotten into the habit the last few months of always having desert available after dinner -- a pie or cake or cookies or ice cream or a combination thereof -- but I have been exercising great restraint around them, usually limiting myself to one slice and/or one scoop, and occasionally sneaking another before bedtime. But certainly not enough to put on 40 pounds ...
It's so bad that none of the dress slacks I wear to work fit anymore! They are all 46" waist models, which I had let out to become 48's. When I was under 260, they were really loose and I had to tighten my belt considerably to keep them from falling off my waist. When I hit 265 they fit more or less perfectly. But once I crossed 270 they started getting tighter and tighter. About a week ago when my wife was out and about on a Sunday afternoon, I snuck into her sewing supplies and located her tape measure and wrapped it around the crease between my protruding upper belly and my now seriously sagging lower belly and was amazed to see that I measured 51.5 inches around! Amazed that I could be that big around, I re-measured three more times, but each time the answer was the same. No wonder the 46/48's didn't fit anymore ...
And now, even my 2X underwear and sports shirts, which had fit well even as my waist expanded, are beginning to get a little more snug now that I'm approaching the 290 mark. "Christ, I need a whole new wardrobe," I mutter to myself again, as I check myself out in the wife's full-length mirror, grabbing big handfuls of belly fat and cupping my now considerable moobs. I had to admit, it was kind of a turn-on seeing how much fatter I was at 288 pounds than I was at even 260, and I could feel an erection coming on, even though my belly apron now pretty much obscured everything downstairs. That's when it all hit me ... my weight gain started about the same time that my wife had bought the fancy new digital scale, a couple of weeks before Christmas. And that's about the same time she started having desert available every night after dinner ...
I'm convinced I'm on to something, but my prurient interests get the better of me and, as I hold my apron up with one hand, I use the other to reach underneath to find quite an intense boner protruding from my fat pad. Since my wife is away for a few hours, shopping with some girlfriends, I decide to take matters into my own hands, and soon all thoughts of a weight gain conspiracy on her part are banished from my mind. "Must be a coincidence," I conclude.
As I stepped off the fancy digital scale my wife had bought a few months ago, I winced at the flashing number that was seemingly taunting me about how much fatter I had become in such a short time. The scale was so fancy that I half expected it to display a message like, "lose some weight Lardo!" Instead, it stopped flashing my weight, 2-8-8 point 7, and started flashing my BMI, 42.0. "Jeez" I mutter under my breath, that officially puts me in the Morbidly Obese" BMI category which kicks in a BMI of 40 or above. And my mind starts pondering how much more I'd need to weigh to break the "Super Obese" BMI mark of 50 ...
The odd thing about it that I'm at a total loss to explain my weight gain of a little over 40 pounds in just eight months. Back around Christmas I had reached a ten-year low of 248 pounds and even though that was the result of a nasty bout of the flu, my weight before that was still less than 260. It only took me a couple of weeks to get back to my pre-flu weight, but then I held pretty constant until around April or so, when I crept back to 265. By May it was more like 270 and by July it was more like 280. Now, it's the end of August and I'm a few donuts shy of 290!
I don't think I'm eating that much and, in fact, have been really good the last few months about avoiding donuts and pastries and other things like that I know will make me fat, or rather fatter. Sure, I may be drinking more Cokes than I should, sneaking one during the day at work (sometimes two), one for the drive home, and one (OK sometimes two) once I get home. And I limit myself to two bowls of cereal in the morning, supplementing them some days with a McDonald's sausage and egg biscuit (or two when they run a special). Lunch is always pretty light, although I "top off" mid-afternoon with a snack from my company's snack drawer (usually a bag of chips or a Twinkee or a bag of Famous Amos cookies), then sometimes another snack around 6 when I usually leave for home. And I rarely finish all my dinner. In fact when my wife asks "didn't you like it?," I truthfully have to respond "there was just too much to finish." Granted, my wife had gotten into the habit the last few months of always having desert available after dinner -- a pie or cake or cookies or ice cream or a combination thereof -- but I have been exercising great restraint around them, usually limiting myself to one slice and/or one scoop, and occasionally sneaking another before bedtime. But certainly not enough to put on 40 pounds ...
It's so bad that none of the dress slacks I wear to work fit anymore! They are all 46" waist models, which I had let out to become 48's. When I was under 260, they were really loose and I had to tighten my belt considerably to keep them from falling off my waist. When I hit 265 they fit more or less perfectly. But once I crossed 270 they started getting tighter and tighter. About a week ago when my wife was out and about on a Sunday afternoon, I snuck into her sewing supplies and located her tape measure and wrapped it around the crease between my protruding upper belly and my now seriously sagging lower belly and was amazed to see that I measured 51.5 inches around! Amazed that I could be that big around, I re-measured three more times, but each time the answer was the same. No wonder the 46/48's didn't fit anymore ...
And now, even my 2X underwear and sports shirts, which had fit well even as my waist expanded, are beginning to get a little more snug now that I'm approaching the 290 mark. "Christ, I need a whole new wardrobe," I mutter to myself again, as I check myself out in the wife's full-length mirror, grabbing big handfuls of belly fat and cupping my now considerable moobs. I had to admit, it was kind of a turn-on seeing how much fatter I was at 288 pounds than I was at even 260, and I could feel an erection coming on, even though my belly apron now pretty much obscured everything downstairs. That's when it all hit me ... my weight gain started about the same time that my wife had bought the fancy new digital scale, a couple of weeks before Christmas. And that's about the same time she started having desert available every night after dinner ...
I'm convinced I'm on to something, but my prurient interests get the better of me and, as I hold my apron up with one hand, I use the other to reach underneath to find quite an intense boner protruding from my fat pad. Since my wife is away for a few hours, shopping with some girlfriends, I decide to take matters into my own hands, and soon all thoughts of a weight gain conspiracy on her part are banished from my mind. "Must be a coincidence," I conclude.
