The man who recently bought one of the local feed stores is a tad on the hefty side. He worries me when I see him unload hay, grain or any other kind of exertion. He's a heart attack waiting to happen. I'm not good at guessing weight, but the number 300 comes to mind.
One day he looked at me and said, "I know that people think I need to lose weight."
I made one of those neutral noises that I hoped didn't sound like I thought he was fat, but that indicated I was listening all the same.
"What people don't understand," he said, "is underneath, I'm really one of those 800 pound men you see on TV. It takes all I can do to stay this small."
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