Dear Brain, You are an Asshole.

Today, Reuters tells us: "New government data show that 68 percent of U.S. adults are considered overweight, having a body mass index or BMI of 25 or higher. A third are obese, having a body mass index of 30 or higher."

I just did a quick calculation for myself and came up with a BMI of 29.3! FINALLY! I'm now seven tenths of one percent short of being obese! Suck on that, obese people. Yesterday I was one of you. Today, I totally abandon you, never to look back, ever again. I am now merely overweight. Based on that, it's time to celebrate with some motherfuckin' Hostess Cream Filled Cupcakes!

Yeah. Emotional eating. That's what I do. There's nothing quite like a powerfully uplifting emotional experience to really get the appetite going. It's natures way of telling me that I can finally eat whatever the hell I want because I totally deserve it and it makes me feel good.

My brain is always finding clever ways to promote excessive gorging.

For example:

1. TV makes me happy. When I'm happy, I eat.
2. Being fat makes me sad. When I'm sad, I eat.

That's about the extent of my emotional capacity, but I'm sure you get the point. Maybe some of you are emotional eaters too. The problem is, the conflict of emotional eating. That might qualify for a third bullet point.

3. Eating Funyons and watching tv makes me happy, but also miserable and obese.

And, of course, when I'm miserable and obese, I eat.

Hey brain, now that I've managed to totally beat obesity (by .7 BMI points), all you're telling me to do is celebrate, by eating. I don't understand you, but you do make a compelling point.

Ah, the miracle of nature.