In Which I Use The Reader As My Therapist

To get the full ridiculousness of this post, don't skip the comments. There's a surprise ending!

I'd like to start by stating that my Body Mass Index is in the normal range.

That said, I am on that diet that I have been obsessing about all month to get my BMI to a number that is not quite so close to the Big Mac Enthusiast side.

That said, I am 47 years old.

That said, this just happened.

I have this shirt on. This shirt is a mash-up of internet memes that I bought as a joke at an after-Christmas sale. For background, see the 1,673 comments for this popular Amazon item here and the most popular piano-playing cat of all time here. At the time of this event, I did not have the sweatshirt on.

Dean liked it, so he snapped a picture with his iPhone (sans sweatshirt) and sent it to a friend (I'm not sure who). The friend texted back, "That is the shit. Where's it from?" or something to that effect. I told Dean the t-shirt company that sells it (Threadless), which he texted back.

I minute later, another text. I leaned over because I'm naturally curious. It wasn't meant for my eyes, and Dean tried to hide it from me. But it was too late. It said something like, "and where did those flabby arms come from?"

Ouch. Sucker punch. Awkward laughter. Change of subject.

Lasting bruise.

I'll be under the covers for the rest of the day if you need me.