I Am, I Said

Like the Neil Diamond song, I am lost between two shores, or in my case, ideals. No, I'm not a transplanted New Yorker, but I am an unwanted part of my person's being, a stranger in my own land. And nobody, I mean nobody, has ever heard me speak at all (not even the chair... sorry Neil!). Until now.

I am neither welcomed nor appreciated. I am merely, as she calls me, fat. 'Fat' is such an ugly word. So my first order of business is to give myself a new name. A name that will not cause you to shrivel in disgust every time I refer to myself, or she to me. Hmmm, what shall I name myself? Portulence? Porcinity? Corpulence? Those all sound like something out of a sci-fi novel.

For the sake of simplicity, and due to the fact that *I* am the one in charge here, after all, I wish to call myself Floret. By definition, a bloom. Okay, I just knooooooow some of you are going to find some way of making fun of me no matter what my name. People always make fun of fat. But I don't care. Floret I am! You can call me Flo!

So here I am, Flo, and since my person's birth, I've been connected to my her for forty years now! Gosh, I don't feel that old. I've always been around, waiting in the wings, small bits of me, even when my person was in the best shape of her life! After all, the human body totally devoid of Flo would simply not work.

So you see, I have a scientific reason for being! I am actually, despite popular culture's take on me, necessary to the human body.

Without me, humans would have been extinct centuries ago. It was me who kept humans warm and fed them during lean times. In fact, I was once revered as a sign of prosperity!

Alas, times change, and now I am the object of repulsion. A sad, sad statement of our times.

I am one of the most efficient of systems in the human body as well. I have a vast network of storage centers and the most efficient means of grabbing those excess calories and carbs and saving them for another day. Call me a futurist, but it's true. Someday, my person might need me! So I take advantage of the good times and sock away as much as I can. Just in case. Not like I'm the "go out and sell your house and everything you own because the Mayans predicted the end of the world in just more than four years" type of futurist. But I'm realistic. I know that times could be tough someday. History has these patterns, you know...

Until some calamity strikes, however, she disapproves of me, yet feeds me nonetheless. Sounds a bit two-faced on her part, doesn't it? She'll whine and complain about me, then turn right around and give me a couple thousand (calories, that is) just to show me how much she dislikes me.

If you ask me, I'm not the culprit here. Yes, I'm the victim. And I'll prove it to you. Just keep reading!