I bring my pond fish in every winter to spend a few months in comfort in a tub under my workbench rather than let them languish in a state of hibernation in the pond. This is similar to how I handle winter, except for the part about being under my workbench. I choose to spend winter huddled under blankets on the couch.
I do venture out from underneath the fleece at least once a day to feed the fish. I feel so much shame, not so much about the blanket tent city I have created on my couch and the “recycling” system I have developed for my bodily waste (do NOT look under my couch!), but by what I have done to the Big O. No, not that Big O, but my fish named Big O (O for orange). Yes, they have names. Without names, how could I apply for government benefits for them? Duh!
Big O has gotten big. No, not pan-fryably long as I had hoped, but wide. When I dress the fish up in their little fish tuxedos when we have a “formal” dinner, I can’t even fasten Big O’s cummerbund anymore.
Of course, this picture is ridiculous as I no longer insist the fish wear their toupees for our formal dinners.
I’d like to blame Big O for his girth issues as he begs for food every time I am in sight. Just take a look …
You can easily guess which one is Big O. That’s right, the one with the big open mouth. Whoa, another reason for the name Big O!
Big O gobbles up the fish pellets until he literally cannot fit any more in his mouth, yet he keeps trying. I feel a kinship with Big O every time I see that, hearkening back to Thanksgivings and other holidays of yore for me. I enjoyed those gluttonous meals from bygone days, but I just can’t eat that way anymore. Maybe I’m using Big O to relive those holiday meals from days gone by. Or maybe misery loves company and I want Big O to feel my winter weight gain shame. Or maybe he’s just a dumb fish whose only daily excitement is feeding time and I’m wasting everyone’s time psychoanalyzing myself due to a fat fish. You make the call. I’ve got “recycling” to do and a fat fish to enable.
Jim Flanigan Looks at the World 
its sad and i’m in a death spiral of TMI, but this post reminds me of something. myself, perhaps. my relationship with the couch and the animals (and some plants) we’ve invited into the house. no, we did not invite the spiders and cock-roaches and occasional mouse. we have fish too, but we have never considered dressing them up.
this may or not be related, but earlier this past week someone put up a hitching-post outside our office and there’s a toy horse head hanging from it.
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I think the horse head is related and certainly no coincidence, especially considering your death spiral. Sorry to hear about the TMI. I have TMJ.
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the post w/the attached severed (i’m pretty sure it’s from a toy) head was put up by two nurses from the Psych office upstairs. ‘cept they came downstairs, then outside our office (we’re on the 2nd floor) to put it up. hmm: uh, TMI re: the TMJ dood ~
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If it really gets out of control, there are rehabs for eating disorders. You might have to have an intervention, but you can probably help Big O get to the emotional core of why he is eating so much.
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I’m checking out the Long John Silver Clinic for Big O.
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