To put it more succinctly, I am death fat. I am superduper really-for-real mad fat. I am the kind of fat where doctors are friendly until they get me on a scale, and then after that they get very quiet.

For nature creſſant does not grovve alone / In thevvs and bulkes, but as this temple vvaxes, / The invvard ſervice of the minde and ſoule / Grovves vvide vvithal, […] For a human being's vital functions, increasing, do not grow alone / In physical development and bulk, but as this temple [i.e., the body] waxes, / The inward operation of the mind and soul / Grows wide with them.

I, poor French Canadian Ti Jean become / a big sophisticated hipster esthete in / the homosexual arts […]

He sipped his wine, flashed a toe-curling smile at the waitress as she picked up his uneaten plate, then gave me a somewhat darker look.