By Aaron Aroriza:
We've succeeded in demonizing the word 'fat'. And that's after we demonized being fat and successfully sent the adjective into the 'offensive words' category. That's why I couldn't understand when, recently, my friend and his sister laughed at me for not having a fat-belly. Or is it a potbelly?
I've been struggling to make a 'six pack' for some time now and all I've managed so far is four and half packs. Not so bad…huh? Just one pack and a half to go. But my friend's sister thinks otherwise. She laughed at me for not having one big round fat pack like her brother who she claims looks much better than me in a suit. Gosh! Now, I'm back to square one – at least as concerns impressing her.
But as I lie on my lonesome bed, twisting and turning and failing to get sleep – a routine that is almost synonymous with bachelorhood, I piece up a few more squares and figure out a way of getting back at my friend. You see, while his sister was laughing at me, he, was rolling on the floor in fits of laughter. Now what kind of friend is that?
So I give up trying to catch some sleep and just decide to let my mind wander off back to stone-age. There I discover a primitive survival instinct. The food isn't guaranteed. I only get enough of it in seasons. I'm also not always lucky in my hunting expeditions. My brain knows I can't count on a constant supply and therefore stimulates my stomach to take up more food and at shorter intervals whenever it notices there is plenty of food. It wants me to eat a lot and stock up enough energy for the bad seasons and long stretches of fruitless hunts. My body just stores all this excess energy in form of fat – most of it around my belly.
It's a smart primitive brain. I look at my beautiful fat black wife coming out of our small cave and I smile to myself. She has true motherly instincts – stocking up enough energy (is that fat I see?) for herself and all our kids. She knows their survival depends on her. Her brain has sent fat to her bust, to her butt, to her upper arms to her hips and some to her cheeks and lips. Ah, she's so curvaceous; something is creeping up my groin – blame it on my logical primitive brain.
And oh, this season has been good. We've had lots of tropical fruits and I've been hunting on shoulders of gods. But in some seasons the gods aren't this good. I caress my fat-belly, carelessly fart, and savor the moment of plenty. I've stocked enough for the bad season.
Enough with stone-age; I let my mind wander back into the dot-com era. I realize there's no need for my body to stock up lots of energy for future use – I can run to the nearest grocery store whenever I'm hungry or even order for food on-line. But that biological thermostat created in my body by my primitive brain still functions and wants me to eat lots of food whenever it detects it in plenty. It doesn't know yet that our food collection and storage systems are so technologically advanced now. I must give this thermostat a mechanical breakdown – I swear to myself; that's what modern man should do.
But modern woman still needs to feed her children from her body. She still needs to stock-up on energy. So how do you tell if one has good motherly instincts? Put her on a weighing scale if you don't trust your eyes to pass good judgment on curves. And how do you know there are great chances your kids will be brought up by a housemaid and won't even breast-feed? Weighing scale again! Some women have broken down the primitive thermostat and with it, their motherly instincts.
But how about the men? You ask. Oh, those ones. Hmmn. Those who haven't fought the in-built thermostat still feel good having fat-bellies without knowing that the biological function and purpose of their beloved fat filled bellies is outdated. And unfortunately, the bellies were never aesthetic either. In a world of sustained plenty, they still stock-up and not only the food. They grab land everywhere, they stock cars, they stock houses and they can't stop because the thermostat is at work. The brain hasn't communicated to it yet that in a civilized world so technologically advanced these things aren't going anywhere anytime.
Think of the rich men in this world who are doing good things for humanity with their money and then compare them with the rich men whom you've always thought are scumbugs and useless to society. The latter are most likely to have fat-bellies. But think of the fat women you've known. Most of them are kind and motherly and they have such giving hearts.
So I haven't caught any sleep the entire night. As I watch the morning news, I see one of our corrupt government officials being led back to Luzira prison. And boy had he stocked-up. And no, not only on the fat; he had stolen tax-payers' money and accumulated more material belongings than he could ever use in a thousand years. Of course where he is going he will need all that excess energy stored in his fat-belly but someone should have told him sooner that in the current world one should live and let live.
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