Daddy's Coming Honey!

Fatty Daddy

Thursday I did something very foolish. I decided to take Loretta Scott Crew’s classic, time-tested recipe, the smore, and improve upon it. I took a graham cracker, spread it with peanut butter and nutella, placed on it a hershey’s chocolate square (3 pieces), placed a marshmallow upon the chocolate, and drizzled it all with honey—oh, and microwaved it. Moments later, my stomach hated me.

Why did I do it? Don’t bother debating. It is plainly obvious that I have seen my wife’s stomach enlarge and have decided to mimic her. Was it out of pity? No. Rather, jealousy was my sole motivation. They call is sympathy weight. I call it womb envy. It’s not fair that a woman can grow such a gut and still be called beautiful. Therefore, I have stuffed myself to spite her privileged status.

Yes, pregnant women are beautiful. Or can be. But because they are creatures of low self-esteem, which, even when due to the devices of men, is still their own fault for succumbing to such attitudes, they are destined to forever speak of their baby-bearing bellies as “fat.” For example: “I look fat.” “You’re pregnant.” “No. Fat.” There is no reasoning with these creatures. Yet we still let them vote. And drive. And speak.

So with this sympathy weight, many daddies transform into “fatty daddies.” Seeing the disproportionate growth of their wives’ stomachs, prematurely dropping physical activity in the face of having to turn all one’s energies into a baby, and smitten by the slight depression of losing the last of one’s freedom and individuality that wasn’t lost in marriage to that same child, men tend to grow their own gut—that is, if they have not already.

Will I be a fatty daddy? Until college I never weighed more than 160, and after I briefly gained my freshman fifteen, I have gained and lost the same ten pounds over and over since then without any deliberate changes in diet. Is it just my metabolism aging? Perhaps. I have consumed amounts of food with weight gain to match that would make millions of teenage girls jealous. As my father was a mutant capable of the gift of foresight, it seemed I also had the mutant gene, able to swallow matter and transmute it into an alternate dimension. Further proof of this is my ability to down two energy drinks and fall directly asleep. What if that dimension overflows? And what mutant powers will this child have?

I may not need to fear. I’m quitting Panera bread in a week to focus on teaching and that means no more grazing. That and the weather will be warm enough for me to bike without Jack Frost making out with my nose. And I’ve been playing some periodical recreational soccer. I’m pretty sure my brother has the fat gene, because I know I have the baldness gene.

But if worst comes to worst, this is the country of weight loss programs after all. Some friends of our just went on a juice fast. Apparently you phase nothing but juice (you can puree solids in some versions) for no more than a week. This is supposed to cleanse you, as well as make you feel like you you just gave ten pints of blood.

I’ve given blood. Nearly killed me. The only way you can get me to do it again is if my baby needs it. I’m probably going to have to eat those words. Then I’ll be fat.


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  1. * Kendall Livick says:

    Hey Caleb!

    Congrats on the baby! I saw your parents at Tokyo Express the other day, and they filled me in on all the latest exciting news. I love the blog! Also, keep up the grazing! I’ve heard it’s a great idea. Maybe Panera isn’t the best lol…but the habit of grazing is probably the reason why your metabolism is so fast!

    | Reply Posted 7 years, 4 months ago
    • Thanks for the grazing tip. I just hope it doesn’t turn me diabetic. I see that you’re married now. Congrats on that.

      | Reply Posted 7 years, 4 months ago

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