
Every time I get up from my desk, or the couch, or the table, or the bar, or wherever, I immediately go tugging on my shirt or yanking up my pants, desperate to make sure there is no stray flab showing. I need to come up with some sort of aversion therapy to break this habit.
But the one thing that keeps me up at night? The thought of showing up from the neck down on the news at night in one of those news stories on all the ways fat people are ruining America.
How do they even get that footage, anyway? Do they send some poor cameraman out on the street on a Fatty Hunt? Actually, that sounds kind of fun. Too bad the notion of heading out there with a camera to shoot people from the neck down without their knowing so their big, fat, guts will scare America into eating right is so tremendously creepy.
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