Expansion of a Man

Affter going to a local establishment before watching OU play texas in basketball, I began to grow concerned. The day after, I went to the urgent care center (oxymoron if I have ever heard of one) and was diagnosed with something horrible. I have pre-moobs. Moobs, of course, being that debilitating desease that many middle aged men suffer from and I have been pre-exposed to it, think how HIV precureses AIDS, that sort of deal; Man-Boobs.


There is jiggle where there was no jiggle before, my shoulders are dropping faster than interns in the Bill Clinton oval office (zing). More than ever I am concerned about my body image. In 9 years when we have children I don't want my kids to say look at fatty patty daddy, or run out of breath changing a diaper, that is embarrassing.

After looking over the pictures in the new Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition, I came to three conclusions more conclusions about body images. Number 1, how do you get the job of paining the swimsuits on the girls. Sign me up, hell I will take an assistant position, better yet there has to be someone to has to make sure the painting surface is clean so I will attach my resume to the blog, if I have to go the extra mile and shower with the girls, I will.

Revelation number 2, thank god I am not a woman. Taking pictures, rolling around in sand cannot be fun and those swimsuits they wear are really not functional and I have to look at them for hours just to think of something logical they could do while wearing them. One good thing about them is that the wardrobe director probably only carries a lunch sack to the shoot as those things are tiny.

Revelation Number 3, I will never be in the swimsuit edition. I know this comes as a shock to many people, especially some of my most loyal readers but I have accepted it. Logan now spoons my moobs, and what better beer rest than the pooch on by belly while I lay with my feet up on the couch. (Paragraph break, I sat for a good ten minutes thinking of anything else positive about pudgy but came up with nothing.) So who cares that I am growing, I hear when your a 75 year old man you will be praying for expansion of any sort.


If you were curious, this Curtis is expanding.