Look Tubby...I think we need to have a talk because you're really letting yourself go and you used to be so tall and pointy and now you're kinda rounder and bulgey in the middle and maybe you don't have the same super-fast metabolism as me, because Buddy? You've got some junk in your trunk. Which is code for "fat ass" in case that wasn't clear. I mean the only way I'm able to maintain this virile, svelte physique (which is like THE BEST almost-alliteration ever for people who are at home and keeping score of what great writers do. That was the literary equivalent of a double-lindy backflip with a two and a half twist dismount or something. I also stuck the landing and boinked the Russian judge backstage before my routine. Result: a perfect 10) is by my constant regiment of eating Pop-Tarts and playing Wii bowling and doing hard pelvic thrusts any time I agree with someone. You must be slacking, Shadow. And chicks hate slackers, except for that dirty guy in Reality Bites. And even then, it only counts in the 90s, so you totally need a time machine to be a hip slacker, Shadow.
I don't want to be all judgey and finger-pointy, because believe me Shadow, I've had single-underpants weeks before. I KNOW what it's like to live off the stuff you've spilled on your bathrobe even though it might be chicken grease and contain salmonella but who even cares because your life is an empty hole. But you have to rise above it. You have to remember that you can't evade store detectives if you aren't able to run, and you wont be able to run if you are carrying all those extra shadow-pounds. I even tried turning sideways and standing on my tiptoes and stretching all the way to the ceiling to make you skinny, but it's obvious you're not even trying. I mean...I even closed my eyes all squinty and turned down the lights so I could barely see you, hoping you would blend in with that giant sour cream and root beer stain on the rug, but I could still see you because of that splash of guacamole from last weekend.
So it's time to shape up or ship out, Shadow. Maybe it's hard for you living in my shadow because I have such taut hind-quarters and such amazing pecs if I hold my breath super-big and wrap duct tape around my ribs, but you have to push through. You have to believe that with a little effort you can stop looking so much like a Rorschach blob that reminds people of a walrus without tusks, but they are afraid to say that because maybe the lack of tusks means they have issues with penises or pinnipeds* or having sex with their mom or whatever. My point is, let's see if we can trade in your muffin-top for a muffin-bottom, and I'm not sure what that even means, but Shadow...I really fucking mean it.
Hugs not Drugs!
PS: Pinniped is the family name for seals, sea-lions and walruses. Knowing is half the battle. I'll include a picture of Pinniped morphology mostly because it has an arrow pointing to the word "anus". Whoa! One way street, Buddy!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!: