Wattle

It's the bane of my existence.

Everything's running smoothly. Self-esteem is at an all-time high. Smiles are in abundance. My clothes are making me the man. Hair...well, what's left of it...is surprisingly in place. And it all seems to be clicking. I relax. I have a good time.

And then someone takes a picture...

I pose...I smile my cheesy camera smile...and I'm actually smiling...happy.

*click* or whatever noise a camera makes these days...*whir* probably...or is that too old fashioned...let's go with *flash*...

Wow! That must have been a great photo...let's have a look...

oh my.

oh my no.

There it is...staring back at you...evil.

The double chin.

Why!? Why me!? I'm not a turkey...I have no need for wattle*...why have I been burdened in this way? Life's not fair...etc.

Of course this feature of my face is a genetic trait in the Antonas family...a tradition if you will...passed down from generation to generation...usually accompanied by a ceremony at the peak of the child's puberty...where the temporary puppy fat is removed and the 'chin' is formally attached in a delicate process involving pullies and levers...the child is then introduced to society at a formal presentation known as their 'début' where they are roundly ridiculed and humiliated by said society...thereby causing the chins (as they are now and forever pluralised) to wobble in their first display of mechanical splendour...the child, in exhaustion and tears, then retreats to the kitchen to gorge on the feast that had been intended for the invited guests but is always consumed by the small fat bastard on this holiest of days. It's a magical day.

But surely as one survives the teenage years and eventually grows into their body...the second chin would disappear...no...it remains...to dangle in the wind...like a permanent scar blazoned across your forehead, forever marking you as some kind of hybrid between largesse and slightly skinny...some sort of fatboyslim...if such a thing exists.

A constant reminder.

A scarlet letter for a past lived in ignorance of the long term effect of that extra bag of Twisties.

Warn your children.

Heed this counsel before it's too late. There are consequences. There are always consequences.

That guy with the apparently great metabolism who eats whatever he wants whenever he wants...the chin will catch him.

The girl who binge drinks to excess and then stumbles into Hungry Jacks for a Whopper laced with her own chunder...the chin is watching, waiting, biding his time.

When the time is right...he will strike. And when he shoots...he shoots to kill.

There's no losing him, once he's with you...he's with you for life. You can't shake him...well, actually you can...but it looks ridiculous...it kind of wobbles...but it's funny if you add turkey noises...a 'gobble, gobble' or something along those lines...works great at kids parties...of course kids these days wouldn't even know what a turkey looks like...they just stare at you and say you're making them uncomfortable.

Damn kids.

Damn chins.


*Wattle (according to wikipedia) is a fleshy dewlap or caruncle hanging from various parts of the head or neck in several groups of birds, goats and other animals. In some birds the caruncle is erectile tissue. Lucky birds...mine's just a flabby piece of flab flab...of course...I think it would be difficult to engage in sexual shenanigans with the underside of my face...but still...at least it has a purpose.