There are many profound mysteries in the universe. Is there intelligent life on other planets? What came first – the chicken or the egg? What does Paris Hilton have against underwear? Why do women find Matt Lauer attractive? Why don’t I own a salad spinner?
These are all intriguing questions. However, I want to know: Where does the fat go when you lose it?
The law of conservation of energy states that energy cannot be created or destroyed. Fat is the body’s source of stored energy. These are two facts that cannot be disputed because I found them on Wikipedia. It stands to reason, then, that since I can’t destroy the fat, I must be passing it on, like a fruitcake at Christmas or an email promising Bill Gates will send you money just for helping Microsoft test a new program.
I consider myself to be a generous person. When it comes to fat-gifting I’m a veritable Santa Claus, but I don’t work alone. The greatest pound proliferators are my cohorts at Weight Watchers.
At Weight Watchers we benevolently share all of our energy with each other in a delicate dance at the public scale, and then further dissect the Sisterhood of the Traveling Lard in a 30 minute meeting that consists of equal amounts of shame, applause, tears and discussions on fat free cheese.
Common conversation overheard at a Weight Watchers meeting:
Girth-Gifter #1: “I gained 2.4 this week.”
Girth-Gifter #2: “Oh that’s too bad! What happened?”
Girth-Gifter #1: “I don’t know! I drank a ton of water and I went to the gym every morning! How did you do?”
Girth-Gifter #2 “I actually lost 2! I don’t know how I did it! It must be switching to fat free cheese!”
No, it wasn’t the cheese. You’ve given your friend a button-busting, belly-bloating, portly present. This is indisputable proof that fat is never, ever lost – it’s just been re-packaged in the form of a cream puff or a pint of Haagen-Daaz and been graciously shared with you by spandex clad size 2 former-fatties.
Right now I’m out of hefty hand-outs, but with Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas on the way, I think the coffer will be full again by January 1st. Come New Year’s I’ll be doling out pounds like Publisher’s Clearing House hands out giant checks. The only down side to giving thunder thighs, double chins and belly rolls is that you never get a thank you note.
These are all intriguing questions. However, I want to know: Where does the fat go when you lose it?
The law of conservation of energy states that energy cannot be created or destroyed. Fat is the body’s source of stored energy. These are two facts that cannot be disputed because I found them on Wikipedia. It stands to reason, then, that since I can’t destroy the fat, I must be passing it on, like a fruitcake at Christmas or an email promising Bill Gates will send you money just for helping Microsoft test a new program.
I consider myself to be a generous person. When it comes to fat-gifting I’m a veritable Santa Claus, but I don’t work alone. The greatest pound proliferators are my cohorts at Weight Watchers.
At Weight Watchers we benevolently share all of our energy with each other in a delicate dance at the public scale, and then further dissect the Sisterhood of the Traveling Lard in a 30 minute meeting that consists of equal amounts of shame, applause, tears and discussions on fat free cheese.
Common conversation overheard at a Weight Watchers meeting:
Girth-Gifter #1: “I gained 2.4 this week.”
Girth-Gifter #2: “Oh that’s too bad! What happened?”
Girth-Gifter #1: “I don’t know! I drank a ton of water and I went to the gym every morning! How did you do?”
Girth-Gifter #2 “I actually lost 2! I don’t know how I did it! It must be switching to fat free cheese!”
No, it wasn’t the cheese. You’ve given your friend a button-busting, belly-bloating, portly present. This is indisputable proof that fat is never, ever lost – it’s just been re-packaged in the form of a cream puff or a pint of Haagen-Daaz and been graciously shared with you by spandex clad size 2 former-fatties.
Right now I’m out of hefty hand-outs, but with Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas on the way, I think the coffer will be full again by January 1st. Come New Year’s I’ll be doling out pounds like Publisher’s Clearing House hands out giant checks. The only down side to giving thunder thighs, double chins and belly rolls is that you never get a thank you note.
(c) 2009, Kelsey Robbins
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