I'm not a person that looks fat. I have broad shoulders, and a huge chest. I have thighs a rugby player would kill for.
Really, I do.
But you know what? I am a fat bastard. Really, I am. It's spread right across me, and it becomes more apparent, the less exercise I do. I am fucking huge.
I am 5' 6", and I weigh about 16 stone 7lbs. Maybe more. Maybe less, but if it's less it's because I have lost muscle.
Why am I being damning?
I just broke the bed. Not at the screws, either – I broke the bed where I got on it. It's a bit fucked. It's a really beautiful bed, and fundamentally it will be fine. Be the bit that the slats attach to, that's fucked. Right now it's shored up by books, but after a trepidatious start, I thought I would not lie on it at all after fucking it.
Seriously, who's so heavy their fucking bed breaks? I am!
I am away for the weekend, and next week work is mental. However, this is such a fucking embarrassment that... I don't know. How humiliating for your wife to wake up after what, four, five months of marriage, to discover her husband is such a fat fucker he's killed the bed?
Really, I feel like a total twat.