High School Reunions: A Study In Obesity

If I commissioned an obesity study, it would be done at high school reunions. A British friend of mine told me about a game foreigners play at airports. They count the number of fat ass land walrus Americans that waddle off planes. When they hold the playoffs for this sport, they should find a flight headed to high school reunion.

High school reunions are an excellent referendum on the American deathstyle. A microcosm of a nation that is eating and ass-sitting itself to death. I not shoving an excess of calories into your pie hole really that hard people?

I just returned from my 20th high school reunion. I don't remember who had which kids, or what everyone's careers were, or any of a whole host of things they told me that I don't give two squirts of piss about. I should have been more focused on this idle gossip, but I could only focus on a single thing I observed that I wanted to shout out:

How in the hell did everyone become such brontos? In Boyz in the Hood Ice Cube tells a friend he is so skinny he could hula hoop through a cheerio. No one at my reunion could even hula hoop through a hula hoop unless a back surgeon was on call. If my graduating class did jumping jacks all at once, the Earth would tilt off its axis.

Go sailing with these fat asses, no flotation safety devices are even necessary because fat floats. Scuba with the whales, and you'd need an entire Olympic weight set.

I wished I had a statistician handy at my reunion. I would have sent him around, documented incidences of heart attack, diabetes, number of varicose veins per cubic foot of flesh.

Why not samurai? Have one slice off every hanging chin, and the gut of every male in his 4th trimester. We could weigh what he trimmed, see if could off a full ton.

And the arms. The arms on the women. Like curdled cottage cheese. An appalling kind of time lapse. They moved their arm in one direction, the fat caught up a half second later.

200 people were at my class reunion. I wondered what the over under was, on the number of people that could run a mile without dropping dead. Pity the paramedics that had to lift them onto the gurney.

The most amazing thing about Americans and their fat, is the fact that they aren't even ashamed of it anymore. Back in high school, fat people covered their fat up. In the new and devolved republic of lard ass, every porker just has to wear a tank top or mini skirt and provide the public a panoramic view of their cellulite. Where oh where has our dignity gone, where or where can it be?

In the movie Grosse Pointe Blank, John Cusack has to go to a high school reunion, and his assistant says that at hers it seemed like, "everyone had swelled." If only I'd been that lucky. At my high school reunion, it seemed like everyone had transmutated into a herd of elephants. Seeing how my classmates looked in the future really made we wonder if America has one.