Congratulations Are Actually In Order

"They may have spelled my name wrong, but it all tastes the same in the end."

In my last post, I referred to the strange ritual of birthday celebration and derided the value of annually honoring folks for failing to expire over the span of the previous 364 days.

As fate would have it, not long after I made that post, I came across an article about the erstwhile world’s fattest man celebrating his birthday. I already knew the story had an interesting premise to it, but a good, solid lede is what hooked me.

MONTERREY, Mexico (Reuters) – Mexico’s Manuel Uribe, once the world’s most obese man, celebrated his 43rd birthday on Wednesday with a very short trip outside his house.

In only his third outing in six years, Uribe, sitting on his huge reinforced bed, was dragged outside his garage bedroom and onto the pavement outside his house in Monterrey in northern Mexico. Presents of suckling pig and lamb arrived.

Haha! Fat people are funny.

But wait, there’s more.

Still weighing the size of three hefty men, Uribe sat on his bed wearing only a bedsheet, drank a beer and chatted to his mother, girlfriend and neighbours in the cool evening air, waiting for a cake.

“I’m happy that it is my birthday,” he told reporters interviewing the man who weighed 717 pounds (324 kg) in May after losing 518 pounds (235 kg) since March 2006 on a diet of grapefruits, egg-white omelettes, fish, chicken and vegetables.

There’s so much there. Do I even have to fucking say anything?

Maybe just one thing. He lost 518 pounds and this is what he looks like:

Uribe is still unable to move his swollen legs and his dream is to walk again and visit the mountainous countryside around Monterrey.

Happy 43rd Birthday, Manuel Uribe!

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