There is something inherently wrong in a world where grown men drape themselves across sofas and demand their wimmenfolk make them up some sammiches. Hillmomba is such a world.
Forget all the diet drugs and exercise programs and eating plans. I can easily prescribe a weight loss program for men. I shall call it The Make Your Own Samdamwich Eating Plan. Because the men would simply waste away. An intervention would have to be called after the first couple of months.
You'd think it was rocket science. Brain surgery, even. The act of removing two slices of bread from a wrapper. Laying them on a paper plate out of the Fine China wooden paper plate holder on the counter. Opening Frig to remove a pack of Land O Frost smoked ham, a pack of sliced Pepper Jack cheese, an opened bag of shredded lettuce, and a squeeze bottle of spicy mustard. Such a complicated series of events. You know, what with remembering to breathe in, breathe out at the same time. Or maybe it's their big ol' bear paws that can't manipulate the handle of Frig's door, or the zip lock on the meat and cheese, the pop top on the mustard.
On second thought, I misspoke concerning the rocket science and brain surgery. Of course men are able to perform those intricate tasks. And without even reading a manual or asking directions.