TSA sanctioned molestation

When one has gained between 7-10 lbs, depending upon the time of day, it is a bad idea to dry one’s jeans on high heat, especially be they of the skinny genre.

Working for this photography company on the weekends has ruined my health. Where once I could be found eating fast food maybe once a month, I have digressed to the American norm of mass convenience consumption. I feel like my metamorphosis over the last 2 months provides a most cogent paradigm of everything that is wrong with America.

Seriously. I have gone from being able to furiously pedal for an hour straight with a healthy body weight, to having to pour myself into jeans, getting winded up 2 flights of stairs, and watching the scale present me with 10 lbs more than I have ever had to witness in recent recorded history.

All in a matter of a couple of months. And there are people who eat like this...indefinitely. I have a kangaroo pouch between my neck an chin, without even the benefit of actually having a baby kangaroo in there. Catching a profile view in the 3 way mirror is depressing.

I got molested at the airport because of this.

2 weeks ago, while flying to Vegas, I had the privilege of showing the outline of my genitals to the TSA, via one of those digital x-ray cocksticle exploration capsules. Which is fine. If that keeps me (potential terrorist) from wrapping a bomb around my penis and blowing a plane to hell...great. Have a look. I’ll give you a complimentary pelvic thrust and a shimmy, if you like.

However, I thought that going through said “humiliation” (for some) would in turn, exempt one from having to have ones body groped by a less than eager TSA grandpa(ma). The eve before the Vegas event, I made the mistake of drying my jeans, and being 10 lbs overweight. Upon exiting the voyeur machine, the TSA grandpa instructed me to wait. He then asked if I had anything in my pockets. I looked at the very clear definition of my thighs, and stated “Nope.”

“Are you sure?”
I looked down again, and could but see the outlines of my pockets, which were unfortunately more pronounced than usual, due to said heat/fat.
“Yep.”
“I’m going to have to feel you to check.”
“Okay.”

At which point, I got super annoyed.

Do I really care if part of this guy’s hands end up brushing my lower genital region? Not really. However, what in the HELL IS THE POINT of those ridiculous machines, if not but to avoid a potential pat down? It makes perfect sense to me, if one passes through a metal detector, beeps, and subsequently requires some groping. I get it. But this stupid machine that is the bane of Sean Hannity and good, modest folks everywhere, is supposed to find the sort of thing that the TSA grandpa CAN’T find with a thorough groping.

The following week, a terribly normal looking woman passed through the sexy-machine right after me, was stopped, and informed by the TSA that a boob examination. Seriously. The TSA lady had to grope all around her breast to look for....explosive breast implants? I’d have been LIVID, had I been this woman. Again, what is the point of this machine, if one still has to go through a rather invasive groping anyways?

At least getting through airport security more quickly is a good motivation for losing weight. I am DETERMINED to melt away this neck pouch over the next 2 months. Perhaps, I shall begin a photo journal, documenting the progress of thwarting this extra chin/neck that is attempting to take permanent residence on my chin/neck.

“Man was meant to have but one chin/neck. Be ye warned.”
-Christian Proverb