I haven't stood or walked unassisted in weeks now, and you bought me a pair of bariatric adjustable diabetic shoes to entice me to get up off my massive but and just try to walk across the room. You watch as I reluctantly attempt to walk, and then you ask me to drop my walking stick so now I have no support. You watch as I hobble and wobble slowly. It's hard to keep my balance, as my belly now hangs past my knees. Finally, after some extremely difficult steps and heavy breathing, I am rewarded with a messy rack of ribs, which I devour like a good fat piggy.