Oh pannus, my pannus

I read about this on a different blog. I had a sneaking suspicion, but wasn't totally sure what a pannus was.

Now I know.

The part of my body I hate the most, has a name. I can no longer ignore it or pretend it doesn't exist. Someone, perhaps a scientist, named this biological bit of my overgrowth. Now I stare at it in the mirror, hating it and calling it by it's name. "Oh pannus, my pannus. How I hate thee my pannus."

If there were anyway I could girdle or duct tape it flat, so that it didn't show through my pants, I would. As it is, I try to make sure my shirts are long enough to not show the bulge. I'm mostly successful.. I hope.

At least I can ignore my butt shelf. It's behind me and I don't have to look if I don't want to.

I gave my pannus an ultimation: By this time next year, it better have packed it's bags and left town (or more accurately, my body). Next October, I better only be seeing Mr. Loose Skin hanging about.