The pink torpedo, unchanged

The latest dubious dingus-embiggener to hit the mailbox is something called “Man XL,” and inasmuch as I was no great shakes, so to speak, when I was forty, I have no reason to want to pay to relive those times.

Incidentally, one Dr Oz, apparently one of Oprah’s posse, has recycled the old story about how losing 35 lb is the equivalent of gaining one inch. Were this at all reliable, you’d see guys lined up around the block for stomach stapling and other arguable ventures. Certainly the year I lost 30 lb (this would be 2004) didn’t end with anything resembling six-sevenths of an inch of newfound wangage.

I presume, therefore, that this is an old wives’ tale, which makes sense inasmuch as Oprah’s audience is largely composed of old wives — and old ex-wives. I accord it the same credence I give to that business about shoe sizes, and inasmuch as I wear a size 14 double E, I consider myself in a reasonable position to render judgment thereupon.





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