BANGOR, Wash. – In a pathetic profession of self-righteous delusion, sources confirmed today that Logistics Specialist 1st Class Gary Thomas claimed he is overweight because he simply “eats too much.”
Thomas – by all accounts a fat, disgusting slob with no business serving in the world’s finest maritime force – failed his third and final body composition assessment (BCA) and can’t be processed out of the Navy fast enough, sources added.
“Sailors who fail height and weight standards typically suffer some sort of affliction beyond their control,” said. Cmdr. Bianca Ward, a medical officer who grants waivers authorizing the retention of overweight sailors.
“These victims bear excess adipose tissue for a number of reasons: thyroid disorders, the recent birth of a child three years ago, an untimely divorce,” Ward continued, “though the most catastrophic instances of unchecked corpulence occur during the simultaneous launch of a Netflix original series and Ben & Jerry’s newest flavor.”
Thomas – who, thank God – does not qualify for any medical exemption permitting his greasy, gelatinous form to squeeze through any loophole that would allow him to continue wearing the same uniform so many other slovenly, shapeless sailors shamelessly wear each and every day in selfless service.
Culinary Specialist 3rd Class Gina Coppola is one such sailor.
“I’m Italian, and we’re just naturally big people,” she proclaimed, chins quivering emphatically. “Thomas? That guy is a disgrace to every sailor out there with real weight issues!”
Despite his imminent discharge, Thomas considers himself blessed and readily acknowledges his relatively sheltered and carefree domestic life, as well as his substantially healthier genes.
“It’s true. I’m fat because I’m a lazy piece of shit with no self-discipline,” he forlornly sighed. “Even though my job would never require me to run a mile-and-a-half or do thirty pushups in two minutes, my insouciant neglect of physical activity, abusive consumption of refined starches, crippling dependence on Mountain Dew, and pack-a-day smoking habit all compromised my ability to effectively manage stress on and off the job, pitting me within an unsustainable cycle of self-indulgent vice and ultimately making me a ticking medical liability for the inevitable day I would have collapsed under the sheer weight of my own sloth.”
“I don’t know what it’s like to be weighed down by dozens of excuses and the burdens of self-denial,” he somberly added. “My heart would go out to all of them, but I’m about to have my second angioplasty.”
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