Fat Read Online Free PDF Page B

processing, packaging, transporting, gassing up, transporting some more, opening a restaurant, advertising the restaurant, hiring chef talent, hiring hosts and servers, lighting stoves and ovens, buying the food, cooking the food, presenting the food, serving the food and finally finding someone to eat the food.  Today, the dollar cost of all that effort was a little over $50.  The real life cost was growing a fat kid a little fatter, and snipping more time from the end.  For me, it would be more appropriate if the check came inside a barf-bag.  I had eaten way too much.  Fifty bucks must be the going rate at the Dinostaurant to feel like yakking.
          Xander ordered the same meatloaf dinner as I did, and he was leaving his plate clean.  I had a third of my loaf and mashed potatoes in a doggy bag and felt sick.  And I didn’t have a Hershey bar aperitif or a chocolate sundae finisher.  The puzzled inquiries from obese patients as to why they are obese are always deluded, as essentially they’re insinuating, “ I’m doing everything I can and yet I’m still paradoxically fat .”  The reason is child placemat puzzle simple.  Pick any aspect of your diet and there’s the answer.  Three meals of charger plate-sized portions every day, or snacking on the many versions of sugared butter in between each of those meals, or washing it all down with gallons of juice and soda, or taking in more calories in one meal than seconds of cardio over the entire day?   
         I picked up the check, thanked Kate for her company, and excused myself with a comment of an early start in the morning.  Xander gave me a hug around the leg. 
         Great.  Now my khakis smell like chlorine and there are probably chocolate handprints behind my knee.  But at least I was finally going back to my room.  I was looking forward to sleeping off this bomb I just ate, but not looking forward to tonight’s probable dream.  My subconscious had just been flooded with food, breasts and near vomiting.  What can come out of that mix? 
         Probably something along the lines of an M&M ejaculating chocolate syrup onto bare breasts.  I’m going to skip the continental breakfast tomorrow morning.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    THE FAT KID IN CLASS
         
     
     
         I’ve seen this coming for a long time. 
         Fat little babies and chubby toddlers have little real world consequences while they wallow in calories in front of their parents’ eyes.  They might even be considered cute rolys.  But once they hit school and are around other kids, it’s a different story.  Kids are cruel.
         Picking on the fat kid is childhood’s oldest sport.  It’s history reaches deep: imagine the strained grunts when a fat cavekid struggled up a rock hill with all his cavemates already gleefully at the top, then the grunting laughter as Chunky Caveboy slipped and tumbled back down to the base, or the embarrassment when a fat Athenian kid bent over to pick up a stone ball and ripped his toga to bare ass, or Lil’ Tubby never being picked to play kick the can because he has never been able twenty-two skidoo fast enough or long enough to kick any can.
         Xander’s problems really started around the time of his first grade physical.
         “Dr. Grant, Xander is really having a tough time at school.”
         For the first time, Xander was quiet in the exam room, seated on a stool, playing a GameBoy.  No more manic puppy dog exuberance, rather, he was just a sluggish hippo wading in mudwater to avoid the midday sun. 
         “What’s going on in school?”
         “He says he doesn’t like it.  And he doesn’t want to go outside and play.  He just sits around and watches TV or plays video games.”
         It’s a common complaint with this generation of kids.  When Kate and I were growing up in the old neighborhood, all we did was play outside: baseball in the summer, basketball in the