Let’s talk about the fat people of the world. I’m not referring to overweight like myself. I’m not even talking about the obese people that make a grunting noise when they try to get out of a chair. I’d even go so far to say I’m not referring to the morbidly obese people who sweat when they perform the most trivial tasks like peeling an orange. I’m talking about the Holy Balls Fatties. The 5 by 5’s. Five feet tall, and five feet wide. You know who you are. If you can’t even remember the last time you were able to wipe your own ass because your fat ass arms can’t reach around your fat ass ass, you’re a 5×5. Let’s face it, lettuce doesn’t taste as good as pizza. Period. So as long as we don’t run out of cheese, bread, and tomatoes, there will be overweight people in this world. However, there is a limit, folks. We have an acronym in healthcare: T.F.T.B. We use it when a Holy Balls Fatty comes in complaining of difficulty breathing. It stands for “Too Fat To Breathe.” If your Man Titties weigh so much that it’s difficult for your lungs to expand, you’re a 5×5. A recent study has shown HIV patients now have a longer life expectancy than people with Type 2 Diabetes. “But I’ve got a thyroid problem!” Piss off. There’s medication for that. “But obesity runs in my family.” Bitch, no one runs in your family. That’s the problem! “But I love food too much.” Shit. You’ve got me there. If you love food more than you love life, more power to you. Just don’t expect me to feel sorry for your fat ass when you come to the hospital and the doctor put you on a diabetic diet. “This tastes like cardboard.” That’s because it is.
I once had a complain that he was barely able to breathe. This 5×5 had COPD on top of being super morbidly obese. Reeked of cigarettes. We were able to stabilize him with BiPAP (a machine that forces air into your fat face every time you try to take a breath). While I was busy tending to the drug seeker of the hour, 5×5 decided he felt well enough to sneak out for a smoke. Twenty minutes later, he was medically paralyzed, and breathing through a tube. Another 5×5’s diabetes was so bad, he only had two toes left. Good God, you started with 10! How you gonna lose 8 toes and not think “Maybe I should rethink my diabetes management regimen” at some point. But hey, look on the bright side. You might still have a career in amputee porn!
Trying to place a catheter in a 5×5 is a nightmare. Especially females. When you spread those 150 pound legs and see a sideways walrus mouth staring at you, it’s going to be a bad day. You’ve got one person spreading the right lip, another person spreading the left lip, another person lifting the FUPA, and there you are basically trying to find a hole the size of drinking straw amongst all the sludge, cheese, and excess flesh. Imagine the stench that comes from a Baby Canyon that hasn’t been cleaned in at least 300 pounds because her arms aren’t long enough to reach over her Gunt.
Gunt: (noun) a gut that hangs over the cunt.
The worst part is she’s not alone. Night after night I have to get smacked in the face with horrible smells that have been brewing inside some 5×5’s rolls. You ever seen a guy with an innie? I have. It’s buried underneath that 200 pound Gock.
Gock: (noun) a gut that hangs over the cock.
If I’m being completely honest, don’t know how much longer I can deal with these 5×5’s before I stop being so nice. Put down the fork people!