Fatty.

I dog sit for my friend. The dog’s name is Sydney. I call her Syd. And when I really, really love her (when she doesn’t attack my neighbor’s cat), I call her Syders.

The other day Syd went to the vet. Diagnosis: fatty tumor.

Got me thinking. Maybe I have a fatty tumor. Have you SEEN my BELL-EY lately? And as I was thinking about it, I gasped in horror when I realized that I probably have MULTIPLE fatty tumors. At LEAST one on each butt cheek. Have you SEEN my buns lately!? (Please say no.)

All this to say, the gym is callin’ my name.

“Yo fatty, you need to come back and work out.”

…yeah, that was the gym talking to me.

I know you were confused.

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