Tag Archives: fat

Cummerbund

Cummerbund: (n) a wide sash worn at the waist

Tears of anguish flow to my eyes frequently when I consider all the various ways that the makers of cloth and the producers of clothing have found to take their products and pinch me at the waist, constantly reminding me of how goddamn fat I am.

When the junior prom came around back in high school, I was intimidated by many the aspects rising up to demolish my already fragile ego.

First—it was terrifying to invite a girl to a dance, knowing that the possibility of “no” was likely and then having to calm my ego by believing that maybe she just didn’t like dancing.

Then there’s the planning, the procuring of funds for things like corsages. And finally, the rental of the tuxedo—which immediately became problematic (because I long ago ceased to be comfortable in a thirty-eight regular suit jacket).

The coat was a problem.

The pants, an even tighter twist.

The shirt pinched me at the top of my belly and refused to let go.

And then, the introduction of a cummerbund to go around my waist, to more or less act as a spotlight, informing people that my belly was due to arrive soon.

It left me completely befuddled and nervous beyond all reason.

I finally discovered how to place it around my waist and smoothed down. Then I went to the car, got in, and upon sitting, it sling-shot its way off of my tummy, striking the front windshield.

Realizing this was going to be a problem, I had my friend pull it really tight around my stomach—and then, instead of hooking it with the available brackets, I had him tie it in a knot.

It had no place to go.

Of course, all night long, it kept trying to slide up (several times coming very near my throat).

It was a mess.

Humiliating.

At no time did it ever look good—not even when the photographer tried to re-situate it for picture-time.

So my prom picture looks like I was dressed up in a tuxedo too small for me, held prisoner, and tied up with a cummerbund.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Copious

Copious: (adj) large in quantity

Memorable.

What is memorable about us?

It’s going to be something large—because after all, the human race is just a bunch of children with jobs and credit.

We’re impressed by big.

We remember things that stand out.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

We file away, in our minds, that which is huge and obvious.

What is copious about me? Normally the word describes the amount of notes someone takes on a subject (although I’m not quite sure what copious notes are since what we really need are sufficient notes).

But…

I am copiously overweight.

I am copiously bald (though no one would actually say that.)

Copious is a word that exists but is ignored because we don’t want to appear that we’re judging things by how immense they seem.

Each of us has a copious personality. It is the part of us that juts out long before we have the chance to contradict it with our intelligence.

What can we do to avoid the more copious parts of ourselves, overwhelming the message we want to convey to those around us?

Although we hope that grace and mercy will get us through the tough times, we must understand that the only thing we can do to create copious evidence of who we are is to push forth our good works—or our bad works. Ultimately, we will be known by what we considered important enough to do.

Therefore, I shall work on being copiously generous, copiously kind and copiously creative.

Who knows? Maybe someone will notice instead of staring at my belly fat.


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Cookie

Cookie: (n) small cake made from sweet dough rolled and sliced or dropped by spoonfuls

A true case for the value of an eternity is made merely by mentioning the word “cookie.”

Since there is no justice in this lifetime, we all are desperately in need of a supernal destination where all things wrong are made right.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Cookies should never be considered bad.

It’s a part of our fallen nature—our sinful demeanor—that has turned these luscious globules, chipped from heavenly clouds, to be relegated to merely sugar, fat and calories.

For those who don’t believe in Satan, consider an athletic gentleman standing next to your cookie jar lecturing you about how unhealthy these godly pieces of divine delight truly are.

Yes, he is Satan. He tempts and then withholds.

There has to be a place where we finally come to the conclusion that kale goes to hell, and cookies dwell, along with you and me, in heavenly bliss.


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Cookie

Cookie: (n) small cake made from sweet dough rolled and sliced or dropped by spoonfuls

A true case for the value of an eternity is made merely by mentioning the word “cookie.”

Since there is no justice in this lifetime, we all are desperately in need of a supernal destination where all things wrong are made right.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Cookies should never be considered bad.

It’s a part of our fallen nature—our sinful demeanor—that has turned these luscious globules, chipped from heavenly clouds, to be relegated to merely sugar, fat and calories.

For those who don’t believe in Satan, consider an athletic gentleman standing next to your cookie jar lecturing you about how unhealthy these godly pieces of divine delight truly are.

Yes, he is Satan. He tempts and then withholds.

There has to be a place where we finally come to the conclusion that kale goes to hell, and cookies dwell, along with you and me, in heavenly bliss.

 

 

 

 

Cookie-cutter: (adj) lacking individuality; stereotyped or formulaic

If individuality is merely the proliferation of really stinky attitudes shared in a variety of styles, then I, for one, would welcome a little bit more “cookie-cutter approach” to our society.

Candidly, as long as it’s a cookie I like, I would welcome you to cut as many as possible—to satisfy my appetite and an ongoing hunger in 
humanity.

We might want to stop taking all this time convincing everyone about how unique we are, and instead, insert more chocolate chips into our recipe, making us more appealing instead of appalling.

There’s nothing wrong with being like other people if the way you’re like other people is an intelligent way to like other people (I hope you followed that.)

So if you can get over your fear of being common, you might be able to develop enough common sense to create a satisfying recipe, spread yourself out and bake up something with your life that makes people want to come back for more.


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Conspicuous

Conspicuous: (adj) standing out so as to be clearly visible

Moments of clarity are often easy to see but difficult to handle.

The greatest gift we give to ourselves is to have a totally candid awareness of how we come across to the world around us.

What is conspicuous about me?

  • I am fat.
  • I am bald.
  • I can’t grow a beard.
  • I have no eyebrows.
  • I am friendly.
  • I am relatively kind.
  • I’m not terribly opinionated. (At least that’s my opinion.)
  • I like to laugh.
  • I like to be funny.
  • I like to be aware of what’s going on in the world around me.
  • I like to make eye contact when I listen.
  • I probably think too deeply for the average person’s preference.
  • I sometimes start a list and make it too long.

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Mr. Kringle's Tales...26 Stories 'Til Christmas

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Confess

Confess: (v) to admit or state that one has committed a crime or is at fault in some way

I am fat.

At least 51% of this is my fault.

I am a recovering “liarholic.”

Please help me stay away from the booze of explanation.

I am self-piteous.

Not as much as I used to be. (Of course, adding that caveat expresses a little self-pity.)funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I am egotistical.

But I have been careful to immerse myself in the beauty of humility to avoid the cesspool of humiliation.

I am still somewhat opinionated.

Yet I am generally able to avoid this vice by putting invisible duct tape over my mouth.

I am capable of judging people.

This one is especially dangerous, since I am incapable of being judged.

I am occasionally ungrateful…

As I learn to be grateful for every occasion.

I still catch myself complaining.

I am so relieved when I stop and my brain opens back up for business.

I am vulnerable to sin.

I do so much better when sin and I take different paths home.

I am learning to confess.

Word has it that such an endeavor is the only true doorway to healing.

Mr. Kringle's Tales...26 Stories 'Til Christmas

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Compensation

Compensation: (n) the action or process of awarding someone money as a recompense for loss

I am a white man.

What compensation do I owe my black brothers and sisters because I share a color with abusing sons-of-bitches who kept them in bondagefunny wisdom on words that begin with a C for over three hundred years?

I am a man.

What compensation should I present to my sisters who continue to struggle for permission to have 98% of the physical attributes of their brothers while receiving less than half of the respect?

I am a bald man.

What compensation should I provide my head for abandonment?

I am very fat.

Is there a compensation due my cardiovascular system for being asked to work overtime without any pay increase?

I am a father.

What compensation am I due from my children for biologically extending myself into relationships which continue to need attention and growth?

I am a Christian.

What compensation do I owe the ancestors of the Moors, who had to endure the Crusades of those misguided souls of my faith?

I am not political.

What compensation do I owe to the Republicans and Democrats for selecting to ignore their foolishness?

Who should I write a check to for my ineptness?

Who owes me compensation for defiling my individuality and besmirching my reputation?

It is why we have mercy.

Sometimes compensation just doesn’t cut it.

 

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Coagulant

Coagulate: (v) to change a fluid into a solid

Every once in a while, my silly little boy shows up to take over my manly frame.

For what I hope is a brief time, I start thinking like a child or an adolescent instead of taking advantage of the library of my journey.

One day I convinced myself I was having a heart attack. Of course, the more I considered that my heart was being attacked, the more abundantly symptoms leaped to the forefront to do their best imitation, trying to reinforce my foolishness.

Eventually I found it necessary to drive to the emergency room and check in.

Well, nobody questioned my contention because…well, because I’m fat. After all, that’s what fat people do. They eat too much cake and pizza and have heart attacks. Since I wasn’t eating, the possibility of cardiac arrest was available.

So they put me on a treatment while they tried to figure out what to do with me. One of the things they gave me was an anti-coagulant. This is a drug that keeps your blood from clotting. I didn’t think anything about it.

But when it turned out that I had mingled a case of indigestion with an anxiety attack to simulate a cardiac event, they sent me home. They offered one warning: “Keep in mind, if you cut yourself, it’ll be very difficult to stop the bleeding.”

I ignored them.

That evening when I went into my bathroom to shave, I did nick myself. I put a little piece of toilet paper on it, as gents often do, but it continued to bleed down my neck, over and over and over again.

I do not know when it eventually coagulated, because I had to lay down and wrap it in gauze.

Whatever they intended for that particular drug was very effective.

I could not coagulate.

So as it turns out, on that particular day my greatest danger was not having a heart attack, but rather, bleeding to death from shaving.

 

 

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Cherub

Cherub: (n) a beautiful or innocent-looking child.

It takes a lot for me to become motivated to try to lose weight.

It’s similar to convincing an ant-eater that ant consumption is bad for its health. After all, you are named “ant-eater.” To suddenly stop eating ants not only removes your diet, but robs you of your identity.

I.e., if I am not a fat man, who am I?

If I’m not the guy talking about calories while lamenting my metabolism, how would I be able to find myself in a crowded mall?

My identity is wrapped up in my weaknesses just as much as my virtues. I don’t know why we take so much time to lie, cheat and cover up our frailties, when the
y are obviously going to pop up and announce their presence.

But every once in a while, I do become motivated to try to carve away some of the fat from my body. It usually takes a shock. One such occasion happened when a gentleman from a newspaper, reviewing my show and describing my face, wrote: “He is a chubby fellow with cherub-like features.”

I was appalled.

There is no man born on this Earth who wants to be a chubby cherub. Matter of fact, if you told a woman that her blind date was “chubby and cherub-like” she just might call in sick.

I became obsessed.

I went to my bathroom mirror and stood there for at least fifteen minutes, peering at my cheeks–my second chin which was thinking about adding on an addition–and eventually became convinced that I indeed was a cherub. Although that supposedly has angelic proportions, it also makes you look too child-like and too plump.

I immediately started a diet, which didn’t last long because I was motivated for all the wrong reasons.

So over the years I have tried to grow a beard, which was as successful as any other cherub, and I’ve sported a mustache–a goatee which I occasionally have to pencil in because it’s just not dark enough.

This whole story would be very pathetic except for the fact that deep in my heart, I really don’t care.

My confidence is not based on my appearance, but rather, the confidence my appearance may proffer to others.

 

 

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Chair

Chair: (n) separate seat for one person

I was five years old the first time someone referred to me as “fat.” It came off the lips of Aunt Pruney-Face Fussypants. (I don’t recall her real
 name so I’m working off stage directions.)

She whispered to my mother, “Don’t let him sit in that chair. He’s too fat. He might break it.”

I don’t know if I was stunned, mystified, humiliated or defiant, but I went over and sat down in the chair anyway–just to prove that it would embrace me from the bottom up.

It held its ground.

Yet over the years, certain chairs have gone “snap, crackle and pop” when introduced to my backside. So I hbave developed the mystical ability to peer at a piece of furniture, determining its width and sturdiness. I avoid bargain-basement furniture, realizing that it’s only suited for an anorexic market.

Chairs are problematic when you’re large.

Large is problematic because you’re always looking for a chair.

Aye–there’s the rub.

So even though I have encountered tens of thousands of seating units on my journey, many had to be rejected by my prejudice toward their outward appearance.

 

 

 

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