I am lucky enough to have a high-speed metabolism. It could be faster, sure, I don’t own an eight pack or anything like that. But with the amount I consume in a day, I am quite grateful I am not the size of a large black hole (although I serve a similar function). In fact, I am rather ‘slim’ if you really examine what I can wolf down in a single serving, let alone a day. This came in handy in Poland, where they are oppressively hospitable and feed you as a [the only] pass time. Seriously, even the homeless people give you food.
Besides the fact that I eat the equivalent of a herd of cattle (when I say equivalent, I mean the actual herd, not what they eat), I am a rather big fan of one menacing, yet delightful, vice. Beer. Oh I can rant on about beer for months at a time. When I was in Germany I drank a shit-ton of beer, in fact, the only reason I didn’t get burned at the stake was because I have a German surname. Otherwise, with the amount of beer I poured down my neck, the locals would have started a bona fide witch-hunt citing “no non-German could drink that much beer without being Irish” (My firey moustache would beg to differ on that last point).
All things being equal, I should weigh a metric ton and wear a size forty-huge pants. But I don’t. Well at least not in real life. According to Discovery and their super accurate BMI measuring ladies, I am “severely obese”. Never mind the fact that the lady took the height measurement incorrectly. Basically, I shrank 6cm in a year. What a twonk of a human.
Admittedly, over the last couple of hours I have developed a little bit of a belly. I injured my foot last week and have fallen prey to Fox’s Milk Chocolate Chip cookies. But I don’t really stress about these things, thanks to my super fast metabolism all I have to do is lay off the beers for a bit, eat 14 daily meals instead of my usual 30 and by five O’clock this afternoon I would have lost 4 kilo’s.
I feel like a beer now, and I have forgotten the point I was trying to make. Thank God it’s Friday.