The fat bastard strikes again

Sometimes I feel as if I’m a bag of Cheetos from becoming obese. My grocery store was having a sell on Cheetos for 99 cent for the big bag. The maximum amount was 12 bags. I got 12 bags. I mean, Cheetos are hardly ever on sale. I couldn’t refuse. The cashier of course looked at me like I was crazy. She asked me if I was going to a party. I normally don’t like making conversations with the cashiers. It was none of her damn business what I had planned to do. I told her I had planned to get a gallon of rum and sit in my recliner and eat all 12 bags and have a Doctor Who marathon. I didn’t know if I could eat all 12 bags in one night, but damnit I was going to try.

Gluttony in America is a tradition. Shit we have all you can eat buffets, Sam’s club and Costco. I mean, who really needs a tub of butter. I would buy it just to see if I could give myself a heart attack in a week. There was a time I wouldn’t eat anything I couldn’t deep fry.

Yet, the great thing about being a gluttonous pig is that I don’t gain that much weight. I mean after 12 bags of Cheetos, I might get really sick and shit orange diarrhea for like a week, but the weight would come off. I think my steady diet of cheap rum keeps me a normal size, even if Webmd tells me I need to lose twelve pounds. But I’m getting older. A family meal of Popeyes used to only stick to my body for a couple of days. Now it takes two weeks before my body rids itself of the excess.

That’s when I realize I’m only a bag of Cheetos from becoming Jaba the Hut. People look at really fat people and wonder how they got so out of control. It really just starts with five cheeseburgers thinking your body will shit it all off but instead it just somehow stays in your stomach. I guess I will stop eating so damn much as soon as I win the all you can eat hotdog contest. It's a childhood dream of mine.