" man-pooch: a brain fart "

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there's nothing wrong with having a man-pooch. i swear. you can always have a little extra flab in case you happen to be in iceland. and it's just cool, i tell you what. seriously.

there's plenty of people who are looking for "real people," and nothing says "real person" more than a little sub-bellybutton belly. i think it's hot, but only maybe because i happen to consta-have one.

i know that if i actually did some sit-ups, let alone a single one, i might get that pocket of fat deposit to melt away like so much lost weight, but it's highly in fashion i tell you. at least i think it is.

i suppose it's just because no matter how vastly my weight fluctuates (this past year i've lost about 18 lbs), it never shows. i have what scientists and anatomists might call a "unique frame." i'm short for a human, or tall for an asiatic-descent human (5'6" - in the morning, when my spine expands after a day of fighting gravity, grrrr gravity). i've got ice-hockey thighs, swimmer's butterfly-shoulder-widths, and a perpetual soft midsection. it's a wonder that i can stand at all.

when i want to buy pants, i more often than not, have to tailor the pant lengths about 3-4 inches shorter, which is fine. except for the fact that my waist size and pant leg lengths rarely find happiness in a single pair of pants. i have since given up on finding a proper pair of pants.

all of these points are beside the actual point, which is this: when you got a man-pooch, you gotta rock that feature, because if this doesn't start to catch on, mine will become less rad...i think.

so, don't be afraid to let people massage it, give it a little rub, poke it, grab it, give it a little pat, or kiss it, because it's right in between a well-chiseled lower mid-section (brad pitt in fight club) and a developing beer gut (the cinematic development of john goodman's superb gut over the course of his cinematic career), and that a'int all that bad yo.

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