Diet Plan for People Who Don’t Move
Happy New Year, everybody! You’re fat!
Even if it’s February now, you’re still fat!
Oh, what is it April now?
Anyway, Merry Christmas! You’re fat!
And you wanted to get skinny, this year! How come that strong, construction worker at the oasis is carrying a whole bag of “Donette Gems” to his car and he’s not fat yet?
Why come that is?
Anyway, look at yourself. Fat. Me too. You should see me. I tripped on my pecs this morning and here I lay on the bathroom floor, writing for Literate Ape (which takes absolutely no talent or energy; just the ability to ignore loved ones).
F. A. T.
You know why? Because not everyone is a construction worker. Some of us have jobs where we sit down for a while. Then we might stand up. Then, some of us are lucky enough that after sitting and standing, we might talk. How did we get here? Humans used to have to do something to survive. I literally survive by talking about doing things to people who haven’t done anything yet. I’ll bet cavemen ate whole bags of donuts before going out to kill a dinosaur from the Bible.
We don’t. We don’t active at all. (I’m gonna make “active” a verb this year.) And guess what, with so many streaming services and teenagers to yell at, none of us really wants to active. So, in the spirit of “I ain’t doing shit no mo,” here are some fixes to our diets this year.
Day one
Lay there until eleven. That was a no calorie breakfast.
Make coffee. Drink coffee. Go back to bed.
So far you’ve taken in and burned up a total of forty calories. That’s if you throw a little lunch meat in your coffee. (Trust me, the kids will be doing this, this very year.) But here’s the kicker, if you were dreaming about thinking, you’ve burned many more calories than that, according to the many world’s theory of quantum physics.
That was lunch.
About one, get up from you coffee nap and call your mother. She’ll tell you that you sound hungry. You’ll tell her she sounds angry. This will start an argument that will take you until an early dinner.
You haven’t done much today; do twelve grapes. Now, watch Hulu. Go on Facebook and tell everyone how you went on Hulu and watched all of Lancelot Link: Secret Chimp.
Eat a bunch of marshmallows.
Go to bed.
Day two
Those marshmallows were good yesterday but this morning, you feel bad. Time to vomit.
Now weigh yourself.
Congratulations, you lost weight! Like ten pounds!
Stand outside in your bathrobe telling passers by about your accomplishment.
Go back to bed.
That was a negative calorie breakfast.
Wake up with a headache?
Take several Advil. On an empty stomach? Yes! You’ll vomit again!
I would like to take this time to say I’m not encouraging bulimia or anorexia. Mostly because they never encouraged me. In fact, one of them used to tease me when I would make pancakes. So, no! I will not encourage them. And for any of you who with eating disorders, feel free to make fun of people with bi-polar (ii) disorder now.
That was lunch.
Okay, so by now, you should be so weak, you can’t move. Great. Can’t make pancakes if you can’t move!
In about a week, your mother will send her friend from church to come by and check on you.
You’ll wake up in the hospital. Please — and this is hugely important — pull all the tubes out of you immediately. They’re trying to rehydrate you. Don’t allow it. You’ve already lost thirty-nine pounds as well as any memory of where you work. This is progress!
For some of us. Thirty-nine pounds down puts us right where we need to be.
Or, you could active this year and eat healthy. Of course, with corporately sponsored “health studies” littering our news feed, in all the self-help books, in attach ads on lettuce, and on that Christmas card you got from Rachel Ray, Dr. Oz, and the makers of Rumchata, you might have some difficulty knowing what healthy food is.
I’ve got no advice.
So don’t eat anything and do everything.
That oughta do it.
