A Pyramid Of Fat

The last part of the week before and the first part of this week has seen wonderful weather in central Indiana. In fact, it got up to the low 70s Thursday.

Most importantly, no rain fell.

Rain has been forecast, however, today through Sunday, with highs averaging in the middle 50s and lows in the middle 30s.

But most importantly of all is this: No freezing weather is forecast for the next two weeks, and it probably won't return until November, at the earliest.

Since good weather has arrived, I've decided to start walking to lose weight. I'm about 50 pounds overweight for my age and height. My gut is starting to bother me and I need to improve my health

I walked for a while while during the summer of 2008, but didn't keep it up. Some things discouraged me, like the following scene that I will post now.

I walked in the morning when it was cool and I had the time. One morning while I was walking I saw, coming toward me, a guy who's driving one of those mobility chairs.

From the waist up, he was a pyramid of fat.

I guessed that he wasn't out for exercise. Is he out for fresh air? I thought. Hell, for that he could've just rolled out into his back yard and breathe.

Our paths crossed. We nodded, although I didn't know him. We passed each other.

Then I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that he was giving me one of those goddamn think-you're-better-than-me? glares.

I lived and still live in a small town with a large contingency of Scotch-Irish people from Kentucky, Tennessee and West Virginia: In other words, rednecks. Most of them are either ectomorphs -- thin and wiry -- or endomorphs -- fat and stocky. I've seen a lot of couples who, as they walk side by side, look like the number 10.

They also carry their resentments with them. Some seem as if they have five chips on each shoulder.

Hey, you fat ass redneck bastard, I thought, I may not be better than you now, but I'm trying to be better than you. I'm doing NOW what you should've started doing about 20 years ago, you goddamn bucket of lard.

As I was walking back to my home, I saw that the guy must've went to the local grocery store, because he had a grocery sack full of potato chips and two-gallon bottles of pop, definitely NOT diet.