I'm on the Cusp of Fit and Fat

I fear the two choco-chips attached to my chest might soon turn into a pair of Hershey’s Kisses and then pyramids from a Toblerone kept at room temperature. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

I wear my vest a size too tight so that it pushes my muffins inside and makes me look like Salman from a Dixcy Scott advert. I hear “Dixcy” and think the word is rather emasculating, making me wonder that it would be quite manly to have a pair of Kinder Surprise hanging somewhere below the torso. A few nut-cracking innuendoes come rushing to my head and I realize I think too much in terms of chocolate. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

My favorite idiom is “tit for tat”. Except, I’m not someone who holds grudges and wishes for Karma to play its part. I just feel I might get to use it to break the ice if I ever meet Tanmay Bhat at a Fatboys Anonymous. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

I read articles on the dad-bod and how Hollywood rocks it with panache. My excitement knows no bounds when Buzzfeed does a post on man-buns being the new hot, but shatters soon after I open the link and realize that it’s not what I thought it was. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

I think in terms of business consultancy and am a fan of growing production capacity. Though some first hand experience comes in the form of consistently increasing quantity of lint found in the growing depths of my navel, I ignore and smile because lint rhymes with Lindt. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

I love wearing my shirt un-tucked, preferably black with vertical stripes. However, my office doesn’t allow for such a dress code and the flubber hangs shamefully from the guillotine of my leather belt, with a white linen buttoned and tucked in. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

If I were to write for a porno, I could have Goldilocks poke three tummies and stop at mine for being neither too hard nor too soft, but “just right”. And then I feel scared that I might have to work out for a month to get to just right. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

I reserve the right to call myself fat and indulge in some self-deprecating humor only to be called the funny guy. But in my defense, I’m chubby with a round face and not over-weight when someone comments on my growing size on the new facebook profile picture. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

I go for a walk in the evenings to maintain my health, but end up eating a full plate of momos almost without fail. I can tell you that steamed momos are not fatty, and the maida is hardly ten-percent of its weight. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

I avoid drinking colas and fizzy drinks, and feel quite proud when I order a pack of Tropicana instead. I did check out the sugar content once, but it’s cool as long as others don’t know the amount of glucose there is. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

I’m scared that I may not be able to see below my belly some day, but then thank technology for having invented the selfie-stick. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

I’m going to put this up on the blog and wait for some comments that say: but you’re not fat! If there’s even one, I kid you not, I’m gorging on a kilo of jalebi’s today. I’m on the cusp of fit and fat.

Image Source: mainstreamdetox.com