Today on "This Old Man" we're going start tearing down this porch...

Regardless of the fact the I am not a homeowner as of yet,I do, sadly, possess a "front porch."  Ironically it's not the type you want to sit on and while away those warm country afternoons while whittling a woodchuck out of a nice piece of hickory*. 

 

The "front porch" I speak of is the dreaded FUPA (Foo-Pa). Otherwise known as the Fat Upper Pubic Area.  Also known by a shit ton of other, less work safe names as well.  Millions of people probably have it.  I feel like it sneaks up on you too.  Things are fine in that department until one day you look down at the, ehrm, "equipment" and think "didn't that used to be bigger?"

 

It's damned unattractive too.  It's one thing to have a gut but this is like an overstuffed down vest for your unit.  I'll pause here while you attempt to visualize this.  It's really tough, but maybe I can help.  Think of Marty McFly, but instead of Mikey J. Fox, it's a small, flaccid dong. **  Ladies have a different issuse sometimes referred to as the "gunt."  Classy, right? 

 

I mean it's the same issue, just a different look.

 

Needless to say, it has got to go.  I need to look into exercises for it, but I imagine it's all crazy lower ab shit.  I mean how else do you work it?

 

This is why you have to avoid pleated frount trousers if one has any "FUPular activity" going on. Wear a belt with that combo and it looks like you're trying to put a rubber band around a balloon.

 

LIke this kinda-

 

 

In unrelated news, I can't seem to spell to save my life today.

 

 

 

 

*Yes, Janet, I realize there's both a "sitting on it" and a wood joke in there.  I'm feeling fairly sassy today, thank you very moosh!

**It's times like these I wish I could draw, really.