I'm too fat

As many of you know- because I use Facebook to record much of my life- I was at Carol’s parents house this holiday weekend.Yesterday morning we were getting ready to go to the church where she grew up. It is the type of church where many of the men where suits and ties. Even it's 90 degrees out. Knowing this, I brought some of my more decent clothes along. Although if it were up to me, I would wear shorts and a t-shirt if I was going to meet the pope. "Decent" clothes is a relative term, and for me that means the pants aren’t denim and the shirt has a collar. That's right, I brought along one of them “fancy collared shirts”.

Here is the problem and where the comedy starts- I hadn’t worn it for, oh, about a year. I’m a last minute packer- I only need 10 minutes- so I grabbed the shirt along without thinking.
Yesterday morning, as I’m about to get ready I remember that the shirt was a little tight the last time I wore it- and I haven’t lost any weight since then.
in fact I’ve gained some- cause when I am about to diet my brain thinks it’s an excuse to eat more- “Won’t it be an even MORE impressive story the more weight I lose? I’ll be even more proud of myself!!”- and then I have a slim fast shake the next day and think “this sucks- I don’t want to be skinny THIS badly… maybe a scoop of ice cream would help next time”

So I’m putting the shirt on and realize- OH NO- this doesn’t fit at all. I mean, I COULD have buttoned it, but the minute I would have sat down, the button that was just above my navel was sure to give way. I mean, just holding the shirt together would be asking a lot of these buttons. They would be going above and beyond the call of duty.
Can you imagine what would have been going through the minds of those buttons as I went through the morning?
“Dear God- is he serious? We can’t cover that wide expanse! It’s like a prairie of fat!”
“Whope- here we go! Just….barely….fit”
“And there we go! All units report in- How are we doing? Carl, sorry about this pal, but you have the belly button area. How are you holding up there?”
“ We are holding on captain- it’s a tight one- but we have coverage and sorry to say- some stretching.”
“It’s to be expected soldier- it’s like you are the Hoover dam down there- you can do it!”

Nobody wants to be out and about in pants or a shirt that are too tight- well unless you are one of those people who wear pajama pants in public- because let’s be honest- at that point you are way past caring what anyone thinks about how YOU look. These people are either married and they would be waaay too expensive to divorce or they are super committed to being single. Why do these people congregate to Walmart and Cedar Point? It’s like moths to a flame...moths to a flame.

Can you imagine if I had went to their church dressed in the ultra tight shirt? That would have made a good impression on her old friends.
“ Hi Pam, this is my boyfriend David- he never says no to seconds. Please don’t stand in front of him- we call that the “line of fire”, unless you don’t mind the prospect of losing an eye.”
To which I would meekly wave. “Hi. I like desserts, too.”
“Yes you do.”

At some point I would have had to sit down.
And the buttons would have panicked.

“Um- what is lard ass thinking? Is he SITTING!!!!???”
“ALL UNITS- ALL UNITS- RED ALERT- THIS IS NOT A DRILL- we have an imminent seating emergency”
“Whaaat??!?! You have to be joking captain- how much does he think we can take? I’m only one button, not a miracle worker!”
“Settle down Carl! Focus! This is why we train! You survived the Thanksgiving incident! Hold on soldier! That’s an order.”
“I’ll try sarge, I will!”
“Hold….We are going down- REPEAT- we are going down- here comes the pressuuuuurrree! WE ARE SEATED- REPEAT WE ARE SEATED- All units report in!”
“Sarge this is Chuck from the neck region. we are good here.”
“Phil from the chest area- have some gappage but holding”
“Good! Good! Carl! How are you holding up??”
“Can’t….hold….threads….straining”
“Carl! Good god man! Fight! Fight! You can do it!”
“Too...much...pressure...tell my wife I love her!!!”
“Caaaaaarrrrrllll!!! Damn. We lost a good button today. I hope you are happy you fat bastard!!!”

And with that, the button just above my belly button would have flown off, having done more than it’s duty. And even worse, it would have probably embedded itself in the neck of the poor person in front of me- possibly severing their spinal cord and paralyzing them for life.
“Martha! What happened to you! You are in a wheel chair!”
“Well, I was at church and this fat guy with a tight shirt sat down behind me.”
“Ah, So sad…”

Yeah. I have an active imagination.

So instead of crippling someone for life and angering buttons everywhere, I decided to go to plan B. But I hadn’t brought any other nice clothes.
So I got the girlfriend.
Fun conversation.
We discussed a few different options- like leaving the shirt unbuttoned- you know- go 2004 fashion on them all. Which might have worked if it wasn’t for the U2 shirt I would have been wearing under it. Cause, you know- I wanted the layered look.
She vetoed this idea.
And then she got her mom.
And my sweet girlfriend wanted to know if I could wear one of her dad’s shirts.
Cause now I am like a homeless guy.
“Excuse me sir- can I borrow your shirt?”

Not only is the embarrassment spreading to more people- there is an implied insult here. We need to know if her dad is as fat, or fatter than I am.
Thankfully, he was about my size. To be fair- he is 3-4 inches taller than me, so it looks better on him. And plus, never insult a man when you are wearing his clothing. It’s gauche.
My hope was that he wouldn’t recognize the shirt I was wearing.
No such luck.
I walk down the steps and he is standing right there.
“Hey, that shirt looks familiar…”
Yes.
Yes it does. And should. Cause it’s yours. I would wear the one I brought, but I didn’t want anyone to get paralyzed…

I’m afraid Carol’s parents think I am weird.