You tear out of a pair of pants...twice.
You break a chair
You break not one, but two toilet seats. (By break I mean cracked in the middle so it pinches your butt)
You have to pay two extra dollars for clothing.
Your have to tie your tie so the skinny end does not make it to the loop so the big end can climb the mountain of your gut and land by your belt.
Your braided belt has stretch marks where you plug it in.
The guy who you thought was fat at work donates clothes to you because he has lost a ton of weight due to sickness, and they are too small for you.
You weigh as much as Homer Simpson...when he tried to get fatter for a disability.
You wonder if you're not really bald but your hair just can't fit around your head.
You have to be selective about where you sit because you know some chairs would collapse under the pressure.
You break a sweat doing silly things, like looking for library books.
You analyze the Food Network.
You think the Hungry Man dinners are a good appetizer.
You don't dare jump on a trampoline because you know you will just hit the ground in the middle of the tramp.
Your camp chair keeps sitting you lower and lower.
Your camp chair gives up the ghost and is now a camp mat.
Half of the clothes in your closet don't fit you, but you keep them because you know they will some day.
You don't wear dress shirts because you feel sorry for the bottom buttons.
Nothing at Target fits you.
You have to special order clothes from Old Navy.
You're afraid to roll over and kiss your wife because she might suffocate.
Your kids come up to you and push your fat up to get your attention.
Yet through all of this, I still haven't thought, maybe I should lose some weight. Please laugh at me. It's time all this sinks in.
