Our 12 year old cats are officially fat. Both of them. Me and TSB tricked them into their wicker carry-baskets (Stupid Boy Cat gullible as ever; Clever Girl Cat sussed what was going in and tried to make a break for it) and schlepped to the vet for their annual check-up and vaccinations. Last year, CGC was reckoned to be overweight. This time, the vet said told us, "you could feed them both about half of what you're feeding them". I know being a fat cat risks becoming a diabetic cat. We're such bad parents.
Here's SBC doing his gormless Barbarella impression, in the bath:
To a certain extent, I can sympathise with feline obesity. Having been on a moderately successful low-fat diet over spring/summer, I've slid off the wagon in recent weeks. Today was the worst: was involved in a training day with a "finger food" lunch which was absolutely sodden with greasy batter and sticky-sweet plum sauce. And gorgeous. Apparently we gravitate toward more carby stuff in autumn.
My relationship with my body is a weird one. Until my mid-20s, I couldn't put on any weight at all; my trousers averaged 27/28" in the waist. Never having found puniness attractive (in myself or others), I was actually quite relieved when, as a twentysomething, I began gaining a little bulk. When I met my lovely partner, portion size went up and so did my trouser size.
I'm definitely happier fatter - but I wish I were more in proportion ie. had something resembling muscle somewhere. I'm a wannabear.