the life of a pear

In the past two years (give or take) of writing this blog, I’ve been willing to ask the questions that we’re not supposed to ask and say the things that we’re not supposed to say. So in that spirit, I’d like to proclaim the following.

I would be happier if I were Richer and Thinner. That’s correct. I know what everybody says, and I know why they say it, but I’m still pretty sure that I would be happier with more money and less fat.

I went clothes shopping today. And, to make matters worse, I did it in London. Now, in case you’re not familiar with what it’s like to shop for clothes in London, think America, only twice as expensive and half the size. That’s right. Not only are the women in this country shaped like waifs, the men are as well, and so the clothes are made to match.

I knew that when I moved to this country and so, in light of it, I dropped about forty pounds. But I’ve run into two problems since moving here. Number one, despite what the British would like to believe, the food here is much worse for you. You can watch all the Supersize Me documentaries that you want, fact is, a chicken kabab is ten times worse for you than a Big Mac and fries (read that in a report the other day) and a chicken kabab is about the healthiest fast food that the British offer (pause here to debate the fact that the kabab is usually cooked and served by people who aren’t British but, believe me, it’s a dish that was created for the British market). Add to that the fact that the British love to serve everything in a pastry. The British claim to have invented the sandwich (and pizza, and colonization), but it’s clear to me that they quickly moved on from the bread and figured that pastry would be a much better choice. So, everywhere you go, stuff is being served like a pie. Even the fish is unhealthy as it’s coated in…fried, or whatever you call that stuff. And so, if you’re going to eat out here, you have to face the fact that you will not be eating well. (for the record, the reason Americans are fatter is because we serve/eat three times the helpings and we drive everywhere thereby getting zero exercise). My second problem is that I’ve recently become a father and there’s just no time for anything healthy. At all. And so, here I sit, having gained back a good twenty of the previously dropped forty pounds. Which brings me to today and the deep depression that I’ve fallen into.

I am shaped like a pear. It’s true. I’d like to go on nurturing the idea that I’m probably this cool, rock star shaped guy, hiding behind a blog. But the truth is, I’m this cool, devilishly handsome but, pear shaped guy, hiding behind a blog. And it’s depressing. And, when you spend an afternoon on Oxford street, walking around with all of the McJagger shaped people who only want to know if this shirt comes in an XS, it makes you want to either blow your brains out (which, incidently, is nearly impossible to do in this country with its strict gun laws…one more thing) or move back to American where you’re one of the average to small shaped people.

Sigh. I hate thin people and their stupid big dogs!

So here’s the thing. No matter what people say, I truly believe that I would be happier if I were richer and thinner. Think about it, confidence is everything. With confidence, you can deal with most of life’s problems. And I would be a lot more confident if I were thinner and had more money. Seriously. These are the two things I stress about the most (I am an unbelievably selfish/vain person) and I truly believe that I could deal with the rest of life if it were not for these two things. Loved one is in the hospital? That sucks. But at least I don’t have to worry about whether my shirt is showing off my love handles as I sit beside their hospital bed. Friend is getting a divorce? Oh man. But at least I don’t have to wonder if the airline is going to accept my credit card when I try to fly down to see him.

See what I mean?

Having said all of this, I do still have my hair. So at least there’s that.