Boobie Boobie Doo . . .

The good ol’ Dickey Doo . . .

You know what I’m talking about. When a guy’s beer belly is so large you can’t see his well, you know.

The female version is the Boobie Doo. And I got one.

I was sitting down and realized my stomach stuck out just as far, maybe even farther than my boobs. When there’s no discernible separation between the tummy and the teets, there’s a problem. I’m supposed to be shapely, but not in a sphere sorta way!

This happens when I retain lots of water on top of my fat. Which happens when I eat out too much in a week. Which happens when my doctor tells me that except for my weight, I’m in picture perfect health. Which helps me to rationalize the putting off of weight loss as I am shoving nachos down my throat.

Eh, I can do it anytime, I say! But my Boobie Doo says otherwise.

And Boobie Doos don’t lie . . .

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