The Serious Perils of being Seriously Overweight

The last time I rode a bus, and it will be the last time...I was struck by the look of horror on the faces of the already seated passengers as I struggled down the aisle to find a spot to sit. Reaching the end of the bus, it was obvious there was but one, next to an elderly Chinese gentleman who had sworn that his wife was coming back from the washroom, or at least I think that is what he said. Since I wasn't about to sit on his hand, which he had placed protectively over the open seat, I decided to wait him out and see if she did come out of the washroom. As the driver shut the door a strapping young lad came out of the washroom...okay...the toilet, and joined his friends on the back seat.
Obviously either the elderly gent was fibbing or his wife was still a bit of a sport. With the clunk of the closing bus door and no sign of his wife I did get to sit down next to the old fella. It was actually quite comfy as he had plastered himself against the window to avoid contact or accidental crushing. (We ended up hitting it off and chattered for about three hours on the trip)

I am still adjusting to my new size, and even though it has taken many years of serious dietary neglect to achieve, it still surprises me. For instance, I look at myself in a mirror at Wal Mart, and it's like one of those wide screen films re-cut to fit on television screens. Whole sections of my body's borders are not reflecting back. If I wish to see how the sleeves look, I have to move from side to side.
The frightening thing about this is that these mirrors are designed to make one look slimmer. I guess there is only so much a mirror can do.

When I go to Timmy's, either myself or my coffeemate must secure one of the tables with the free standing chairs, or breathing becomes an issue for me in the self contained fully attached chairs. I mean, you would think they could allow a little extra room between the chair and the table! After all, they're selling DONUTS, not yogurt. The government should force them to post some signage that says.
"If you can't fit into our booths, maybe you shouldn't be in here!"

Now...on to the matter of clothing. Stylish?
Not gonna happen unless they open some " MR. BIG & WIDE " stores.
(Big & Tall isn't getting it done for me.)
Can you say sweatpants? I sure can. Can you say Capri pants? I sure can, and so will you if you think you can use a clothesdryer on any setting but "Arctic" And be sure to double tie them strings tight in the front or you will soon learn to utter the cute little catchphrase "Not guilty, Your Honour" Think about it...
Most shirts in bulky sizes do not compensate for the additional frontage either, so an exposed, 'ready to explode and take an eye out' belly button is gonna happen.

Onward to buffet meals! They hate us. Nuff said.
(Patrons nod their heads uttering witticisms such as I can see how he got that way.)

Posture? Gone. All gone...
Your famed sexy stride gets reduced to a kind of precarious rolling balancing act....think Captain Bligh in a heavy sea.

Shaving? Your whiskered jowls eventually meet up with your chest hair and a judicious trim is needed to tell them apart.

Perspiration? I can break into a sweat thinking about breaking into a sweat. I would also recommend a headband if you do not want hot soup to become too salty and watery.

Sex life? Yeah, right!

Back seats? Concussion territory...a ruptured spleen is also a possibility.

These are but a few thoughts on the subject, and I hope it encourages each and every reader to do some careful pre-planning before letting themselves go.
Obesity isn't for everyone.
It requires committment, fortitude, and at least a pinch of good old madness.

(For more information on this subject simply request your personal copy of the
"Byron O'Donnell Rapid Weight Gain Diet"...also available on VHS tape.)

in which my career singing for God has been put on hold...

Larry Campbell, my erstwhile spiritual adviser has always been a considerable nuisance, if not a downright source of annoyance for me. I both eagerly seek and try to ignore most of his advice. Yes, it is a strange relationship, but not in the least strained.
He has that awful ability to say "NO" when I really want him to say "YES". I am always aware of this flaw in his support before I even seek his counsel, but I still seek him out and ask for direction. A perfect example of his succinct declarations to me is perhaps in order.
I asked him for advice on my love life with a woman I love and adore, but somehow seem to agitate and anger regularly...in fact I cause her some considerable hurt at times and he offers this advise.
"Stop being Stupid"
I didn't like to hear that and initially tried to laugh it off, but given some reflection, it is sage counsel for sure. Since that time I have done my best to not be stupid, and the waters of my love affair have been relatively unrippled.

But I will hurry back to the proposed topic of this musing...singing for the Lord.
A few months back I was feeling deeply inhibited by the restrictions placed on performing gospel music with the congregation I attended. I do not think I come off looking particularly modest in my objections, but I think they have some merit.
I like to close my eyes and deliver when I sing for the Lord, at times even smile, and allow my "self" to be present. By self I mean all that I can earnestly offer from my singing ability and life experience and desire to praise HIM in the best way I can. In many congregations this is of course frowned on, particularly in the church I was attending and the experience of being told what to sing and how to sing it soured me on doing it regularly.
There is a strong argument to support the stance of the church on this...including a lack of humility on my part, that I should realize that I am only there to guide the congregation through familiar ground and it is not the time to step outside any established arrangements. It is certainly no place for any kind of soulful singing or self involvement. Hmm...
So I decided to do some small gospel concerts in the common room of the complex I live in, and perhaps even say a few words in between songs. I asked Larry, my erstwhile spiritual adviser about this thought. To my utter dismay he said if I intend to speak I must PREPARE! Prepare?? ME? PREPARE? I'd rather take gas...

Once again he set me off to pondering with this outrageous (to me) suggestion, and I decided he is probably right. I have been studying the Bible and Theology and anything I can get my hands on to help prepare. So far all I have to show for this effort is a muddled over taxed brain filled with half understood insight and very little concrete material to incorporate supposing I decide to open my mouth and say anything beyond "this next song etc". So my gospel career is on hold while I study and sort and absorb and dismiss stacks of material.
I don't blame Larry. He has my best interest and the common good in mind and I do not dismiss his advice out of hand no matter how distasteful I find it.
So for now, I study and try to get used to the notion that my tendency to improvise has got to be supported by preparation and prayer. Who knew?