Monday, 19 March 2018

Fighting Weight

It's official. Australia is one of the fattest countries in the world.

Cool! When do they give us a trophy and more importantly, is it coated in chocolate?

I guess someone should make an acceptance speech. Maybe it should be along the lines of "I'd like to thank Sam's fish and chips without which none of this could be possible. And of course, not forgetting our inspiration Ronnie McD and the Colonel?"

Yes ladies and gentlemen, we used to be girt by sea and now we're girth by sea. Speaking of the sea, maybe the ocean levels are not rising at all. Maybe Australia is sinking because if all the fatty boombahs.

If you haven't caught up with the news, according to a survey, Australians could challenge for the heavyweight champions of the world. They would give us a belt, but it wouldn't fit.

Remember when Thorpie won all that gold at the Olympics? We were all so quick to say "go Australia, we're number one. Champions at swimming".  My point being, as much as we liked claiming it as a victory, we had bugger all to do with it, whereas now we've been named as one of the fattest countries in the world, each one of us can look down at our beer gut, man boobs, love handles, and think "I helped".

Now before we try to complain that we're all just big boned, retaining water in case there's another drought, or hoping we'll be super contestants if "The Biggest Loser" returns, we should look at the facts.

Obesity is becoming a bigger problem down under than drugs. Forget crack addicts, we have Big Mac addicts. Maybe we need sniffer dogs at airports, not to check on people bringing in drugs but people bringing in Krispy Kremes.

All jokes aside, with the rising cost of fuel forcing airlines to charge higher luggage fees, there have been calls for them to weigh passengers rather than luggage. While I understand the logic, this seems a bit cruel.  Can't imagine standing at the counter and hearing "I'm sorry sir. You already have your excess baggage with you."

Something else ......

I'll turn 30 something in May. And here's to a few more years. Why, then, does it feel like the extended warrantee on my body ran out years ago?  Lately it seems that everything has started to all apart.

I first started to notice it when something like moving my body came with it's own soundtrack. Five years ago, when I got out of bed, it was done silently. These days it's accompanied by a groan similar to a Hungarian weightlifter competing in the clean and jerk crossed with the type of phone call that costs $5.95 per minute. (Are they still available?)

  I'm getting old. Till next time folk.

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