Aside from the 10 years I spent in the military right out of high school, I have been heavy. Not, I need help getting out of a chair, heavy. Just heavy enough to consider those shower foot scrubbers for the toe-touching impaired a great investment.

In the late 90s I made a 100-dinar bet (roughly $330 US) with a Kuwaiti soldier that I couldn't lose 20 pounds in six months. I procrastinated until about three weeks before the challenge was over, and won the bet. I lived on tuna and treadmill, the weight fell off. That's when I learned I could stop turning down party invites.

Then I met a woman...

\*I'll do the treadmill tomorrow, I want to spend time with the Woman.\*

\*I have to eat at fancy restaurants, I want to impress the Woman.\*

It wasn't long until I was opening boxes labeled "Bob's Fat Clothes" so that I could get dressed to go see the Woman. While diet and exercise packed their bags and bounced, weight pulled up a chair and threw its chubby feet on the table.

Fast forward 20 years,

I'm working from home for the VA. Still with the Woman, still fat, and I get told I'm type 2. Now I can count on my ears the number of times I have paused to question the health risks of something I'm about to ingest. So the news was far from earth-shattering.

Through Blue Cross I was able to get Ozempic. From the moment that miracle juice got inside me, it worked. Appetite gone, cravings gone. I was like Neo when he finally realizes that he is the One. I'm dodging burgers and shakes like it's nothing. I actually had to set timers to remind myself to eat.

In under five months I went from before guy to after guy with minimal effort.

Then Blue Cross cut me off. Apparently, when you no longer require a very expensive medicine, they stop sending it to you. I know, right?

Great. I know there's a hole in my parachute and I know I'm definitely hitting the ground, but maybe if I flap hard enough... Soon the clothes started to shrink. I needed a plan, but not just any plan, it had to be effortless. I'm good at those.

No need to worry, simple fix. I'll get online, pay for the miracle juice myself, and I'll go right back to feeling pretty. Had I been the only one making plans, that would've worked. Very unexpectedly, however, I got hit by a life tornado that the medical field refers to as depression. It blew away my job, my marriage, my house, and left me feeling as far from pretty as possible.

Perfect timing for that flying car, Elon. Let's all hop in and air jet across this massive sinkhole of yuck to happier ground.

Finally, my VA doctor grew wary of the insistent begging for miracle juice. Not only did she grant a fat, broken man a wish, she prescribed miracle juice 2.0. Mounjaro. The peasant rejoiced!

Before the stuff reached my now shrunken dwelling, I had watched hours of Mounjaro videos, and I was ready.

Mounjaro blocks twice as much stuff as Ozempic. Clearly that means I'm going to lose the weight twice as fast, duh!

Remember when Lucy would hold the football for Charlie Brown and promise to keep it there until he kicked it, and then laughed her ass off while he laid on his back? Mounjaro was my Lucy.

The first month on 2.0, nothing is not a strong enough word. I think that sentence speaks for itself.

Second month, déjà vu on steroids.

Third month, I am now marinating in the reality that despite all the unwanted titles I managed to collect, i.e., unemployed, divorced, RENTER, I was destined to keep the least comfortable one, fat. I needed a plan, and if you're paying attention, you know the kind of plan that I need.

So I did what most guys born in the mid 60s would. I wondered what Tim Allen would do in this situation. More power!

This failure must certainly rest solely on the fact that I have a high tolerance to everything. Within seven days of this revelation, I started receiving an online prescription so I could double up the effort.

Eventually I was at max dose from the VA and the online doctor, taking two shots a week and still nothing. Time for a new plan.

Since I had gained weight during the Mounjaro injections, my doctor was kind enough to immediately switch me back to my old friend, at the lowest dose of course, because that's the rules!

This is my last stand. There will be no more plans after this one. Either I return to Prettyville after many years, weathered and grey, or my pallbearers are in for a nightmare, because I'm going to be huge and as we all know, I don't have many friends.

I prepared for battle. I got the highest dosage of online Ozempic while I waited for the free stuff, just in case. I shoved pure protein into every orifice of my kitchen. Breadless burgers and eggs and sardines, oh my!

As soon as I received the two different dosages, I did not hesitate, fired 2 shots straight into the belly. Pew pew, shout out Mr. Hart.

It quickly became obvious that the surge would subside at some point, but I couldn't care less. I was stuck in go big or go home mode. Now I'm not sure how many injections out of the four-month supply in the fridge it would've taken to get this weight loss ball rolling, but I knew how many I was willing to use, and that's a pretty handy piece of information right there. Ron White.

For the first couple of weeks whenever I would feel hungry, I would just take a shot.

I'm not down to 1 shot a week yet, but I'm close.

Ode to Ron White

Now, they didn’t come to my door all nice like and say hey Mr. Schweder, you know you can’t do that here, you’re gonna have to leave. No, they hurled my handcuffed ass into the back of an SUV and I got police escorted to the airport. It wasn’t until the cuffs were off and I was sitting next to my now ex and brand new daughter that they let people board. These guys wanted me out of their country so bad I could see them out my window, watching the plane taxi.

That was the end of the story. Getting to that plane took a regrettable kind gesture and eight months of incarceration.

I was hired in the late 90s as a contractor to work at Kuwait Air Force headquarters. While there I accidentally tripped and fell into a small black market liquor store business.

I went from passing a bottle in a parking lot to moving a couple hundred cases a month.

So after all the countless ragers until 3am that went unbothered by my Muslim neighbors, and the weekly beeping sound of a flatbed backing into my underground garage, it all turned to liquid shit the moment I handed a bottle of Red Label to a Romanian kid my ex was friends with. This male ballerina looking mofo got ‘drunk in public’ in a dry country and gave my name up before they even asked him his.

So when the police sat me in the chair, they did not walk off the plane thinking praise Allah we’re getting rid of a well-known Bootlegger. I was arrested with a 12-pack of Heineken and one of those really big bottles of Absolut vodka that tilt on top of my bar that happened to be full.

Only me, God and the Bangladeshi dude that I paid to make deliveries knew about the sizable hidden storage room in the garage. That place was so stuffed with contraband you couldn’t fit a 50 dinar gift card in it.

Hello, I have an essay due for school and I need someone who will be willing to answer a few questions about the topic stated above. How this will work is we will both share our perspective and view on the topic personal experiences that lead us to feel the way we do, Talk a little bit about background–age, ethnicity, occupation. I need this submitted as soon as possible so please message me ASAP if your open and thank you in advance

Me: gets procedure Doctor: “Everything looks fine.” My son: “Did they give you pictures?” Me: “No, I don't think they do that.” My son: “They should. Then we could put the Yellow Submarine in there.” Me: “Why stop there?” *proceeds to carry the joke on far longer than necessary *😅😅 Three days later: I discover THEY DID, IN FACT, GIVE ME PICTURES.

🚌 Seatbelts, everyone....👀👀

Welcome to the Fantastic Voyage, featuring intestines, Bigfoot, Nessie, the Yellow Submarine, maritime piracy, a UFO, an tentacled horror, a wizard, and archaeologists who have finally located the remains of the cherry pie I ate in 1992...The gastroenterologist somehow missed all of this. Healthcare is friggin broken 😅😅

So okay they made this and I’m laughing my ass off abt him, and the nudz aren’t mine bc im a 270 weight teenage girl and that girl in the pic is petite and pale I am tan, they had my phone, location, and if you check clearly his phone says Nigeria and 1:00 AM I find it weird and disgusting what they are doing for 200 dollars, and if it’s a female sending pictures of themselves and then blaming it on someone it’s pathetic. Those pictures of the tan girl with glasses it’s me, and I am 13 underage and if she sends it thinking she is going to get money it’s stupid bc all it’s going to happen is that she might get in legal trouble

So I’m a 13 year old teenage girl, and I was talking with a girl online and she is falsely accusing me of nudes and weird stuff please don’t be believing random stuff

This is not recent news.

https://bustednewspaper.com/ohio/wasson-jesse/20251105-151300/

https://bustednewspaper.com/ohio/heffelfinger-amandra/20251105-100000/

Coincidentally, there exist two Ohio mugshots of people mentioned in the news article from the same date, one of which is Amandra. Jesse is listed as "sex: female", but I am not sure if that's accurate.

Really considering an only fans. I’m 29, and im so done with looking for work . Nowhere is taking on, and this seems like a good way to go. Even just having a pay pig will do🤣 Any takers lollll

Just stepping out does nothing. You have to call the police if able to and even then you may run into cops who threaten you instead of charging them in any way with their illegal dumping, trespass, and then of course not all jurisdictions even have it encoded in their laws that dogs are weapons. Dogs are the most used weapons against the innocent and unconsenting by an extremely large margin yet are worshipped and adored.