I like frogs

As you're well aware, I tend to ruin my reputation at the very moment it starts moving up.
If you are not aware, I suggest you become one. We could use more wares. Lerts too.
Anyway, I suppose it's time for me to whine and gripe about how fat I've become since I quit ranching and became a desk jockey, writing and working computers and all that other sedentary work.
It happened at that peculiar time in a man's life where his metabolism starts slowing. Age crept up on me as I crept into my early-mid twenties, and, without a proper exercise regime (which I never had) and with the wonderful habits I had formed as a teenager that helped keep my body chiseled like George Washington's face on Mount Rushmore (Meximelts and Dark Chocolate Nougat Milky Ways), my body slowly degenerated into the globular pile of pudge that you are lucky enough to only meet via text and never sight!
Once the pinnacle of beauty, I cried out from the tops of mountains and women everywhere, "I am become Lust, destroyer of hearts!"

But then, one day, I actually had to buy a pair of 36" pants.
You say, "but bro! What's 4 inches man?"
But, ultimately, the distance isn't the problem. It's the way I feel. Fat and hideous. Like the Return of the Blob! Run. Don't walk.

I'm going to cut to the chase here.

I dropped some cash and joined a gym. I went there this morning. While I was jumping up and down off of a box (it's more grueling than it sounds), My boxers tore, clearly under the weight of my bulging fatness. With every new exercise, since most of the exercise revolve around banding down and pushing myself up in one way or another, I could hear my boxers tearing apart under my loose fitting gym shorts.
So... I'm standing around, lifting or whatever, wondering if people can hear the zipper sounds of the fabric beneath my shorts unwinding, worrying that my boxers might come clean off, and the instructor orders us to do sit-ups!

Do you know what happens when I do sit-ups? My baggy gym shorts slide down, revealing a little more of my thigh than I'm used to, and sometimes they reveal my boxers or something if you look down them from a specific angle.
Normally, that isn't actually very lewd or problematic. Who would be looking down my shorts anyway? Most people are fantasizing something peaceful in their minds in order to escape to a far away land where every new step, every new rep isn't such a horrific torture of muscular destruction. I, however, had a different issue. I had no idea whether or not my shorts would come up and reveal any part of myself exposed by shredded undergarments!!!

So I had to admit the problem to my coach, and he let me do my sit-ups against the wall, discreet yet unusual.

Yeah. Anyway, I was just getting used to the place. The guy was learning my name, glad to see that I was persevering beyond the first week with vigor. But now he's going to look at me and think, "lol that screwball can't keep his shorts in order."

Such is life.

Anyway, more awful luck. I put on my shirt to find that some evil thing was crawling within it. Initially, I thought it was a wrinkle, but when it moved, I crushed it's tiny body against my back, making a total mess. It was some awful worm.
Could there be more? Lurking beneath the cover of my garments?