Hi! I am my owner’s belly fat. “My owner”, what a laugh! Really, who owns who?
Can’t fully open his laptop on an airplane. It won’t fit in his lap, funny-y.!
Can barely drop an airplane tray down to level. Some airlines have the stomach edge of the tray cut away for just for my rotundness.
Strains to put his shoes on in the airplane seat. He has to drag them with his foot and a toe cramp! He has to reach them way down there and pull up his leg and foot. Wow, does he squish me! My two friends, the Lung twins are breathless
Can’t sit in a chair and bend straight over to tie his shoes laces. He has to pull his foot crossways on his knee to tie them. The ties sit on the inside of his shoe tops (he looks so dorky!)
Suffers every time he has to get down on the floor. He grabs something to assist himself and 25 pounds of me “up.”
His knees are victimized when he is walking/running with me; an extra 100 pounds is hitting his knees (estimates of 1 lb. creating 4 lb. of pressure on knees is common physiological opinion) and his ankles on every step. Would he go walking on a treadmill carrying a 25-pound lard bucket for 45 minutes? No! Never! But he’s stuck with me-e-e!
Has to buy XLT polo shirts because XL stretched over me gets pulled out of his pants. It’s one of my “looks.”
Has lower back problems: I am the 25-pound ball distorting him with my friends, “flabby abs.” He wants a 6-pack; we give him a big one pack!
Lest you think I am all bad, he has one benefit: He can sit in a chair and set the TV remote and bowls of chips on me, his “stomach shelf”.
My Spark Friends, for fun, comment some more ways my gut laughs at me. With you and Spark I will have the last laugh.