Fat is a Christmas issue ... says Ken Davis
Well, here we are again. Christmas is just around the corner, and we are all moving one step closer to a leading role in On Golden Pond. Actually, unless I get a handle on my weight, I might land the part of the pond.
I hate
to beat a dead horse, but the weight thing is getting to me. Over
the years, you have watched me flatulate, er, I mean, fluctuate between
being stocky and looking like Jabba the Hut. I no longer fluctuate.
Now I inflate. I've moved past Jabba the Hut, and I'm moving quickly
toward Jabba the Ground Floor Extension.
I decided to have the fat content of my body analyzed. I already knew
I was too fat, now I was going to pay someone to tell me how much
too fat I was. They told me I would be weighed under water. The theory
is that muscle and bone sink, money talks and fat floats.
If you
give $75 to someone with a white coat and a supreme-being air about
them, they will weigh you on dry land and then weigh you under water.
The difference between the two figures allows you to compute what
percentage of your body is fat.
A huge crane extended out over the deep end of a swimming pool. Hanging
from the crane was a swing-like device. This was the scale. The assistants
to the Supreme Being strapped me in the swing, and the white-coated
one manoeuvred it out over the pool. The swing suddenly plunged into
the water. The doctors cannot get an accurate reading until the chair
stops bouncing. Do you know how long it took for the chair to stop
bouncing? I saw Jesus at the end of a tunnel gesturing for me to come
to the light.
I had begun to move toward the warm glow when I was suddenly jerked
from the water. As I gasped for air, the light faded, and the doctor
proclaimed, "Yep, you're fat!"
"I want a second opinion," I pleaded.
The nurse turned and sniped. "He's right. You're fat."
Enough of that abuse! If you want to know the fat content of your
body, I have developed a method that won't cost you a cent. Next time
you get out of the shower, grab a stopwatch and stand in front of
a full-length mirror totally naked. Start the watch and stamp your
foot on the floor as hard as you can.
When
stuff stops moving, punch the watch and check the time. I'm down to
two days, three hours and six minutes.
Just a thought: Not much hope for this body, but eternal possibilities
for this soul.
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