Confessions of a Fat Man

The following was sent to FCN from a good friend and somewhat faithful reader who needed a venue to cry for help. This post is part of his therapy. Please give him an encouraging comment and keep his sad plight in mind next time you visit Sizzler.

I used to think that I was a normal young man. I ate my grandmother's apple pie. I liked baseball. I believed in the American way. I had two dogs and an eccentric family. My mother was an immigrant. I was the classic American boy. Or so I thought.

One lonely new year's eve, I happened to glance at a mirror. What I saw left me dumbstruck. There was a lot more of me in that mirror than I had counted on. Instead of the fit young man I was looking for, staring back at me was an abomination that could serve as a counterweight for the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I was fat.

At the time I tipped the scales at around ** —NOTE: THE EXACT AMOUNT HAS BEEN CONCEALED FOR THE PRIVACY OF THE AUTHOR— It was at that moment that I realized that something must be done. I set for myself a modest goal. To lose five pounds over the course of the year. I failed miserably. That year my weight marched into the triple digits. Each year since that fateful revelation, my New Year's resolution has been to lose five pounds. Sadly instead of losing unwanted adipose, I am consistently gaining weight at such an alarming speed that my mother has had to take me into town each year to purchase new clothes to accommodate my growing paunch. Today, when I step on a scale, I see the needle fly all the way to ***!

The thing about my weight that really bothers me is the way people look at me. When I walk in a supermarket, I see people staring. I know what they are thinking. I know people use words like, fatso, blimp, barge, blubber man, plump, big boned, stocked for famine, pregnant, obese, convex, structurally challenged, couch, Manuel Uribe Garza, and many other words that are too exciting to print, including some that have been banned by weight watchers (who are marvelous loving people, by the way). I see some mothers talk to their children as I walk by, some even point. They are telling their children to eat their fruits and vegetables, but not too many of them. They are telling their children that I am the result of too much candy. The only solace I find in my entire weight situation, is the knowledge that I serve as a waddling warning klaxon to this nation's youth.

I remember when a man approached me and asked“When is the baby due?” This comment hurt me so deeply that I could not think of a suitable response for over 10 minutes. However after some careful thought, I approached the man and asked him “When is YOUR baby due?” I felt that this was an appropriate comment until he demonstrated that he was much stronger than I. So strong, in fact, that he was able to pick me up and throw me through a glass door, which is no small feat given my aforementioned weight.

There is one thing, one person, who makes me more sensitive about my weight than anything else: My girlfriend, the apple of my eye. I know that the joy of my life loves me even with my extra five pounds, but I want to be the best I can for my Jewel. My Ruby is perfect in every way. There is nothing that can stand next to her and scratch even one tenth of one percent of her amazing personality. That smile. The softness of her voice when she greets me. Her very name means pure, and she is the purest of gold. I want my sugar plumb to be happy. I don't want my cookie to be burdened with the sadness of looking at me each day, and knowing that I am overweight; knowing that someday I will die and that my weight problem is only speeding up the process. I know my darling sweetheart would never tell me she is concerned about my weight because she knows how much it hurts for me, but I know it hurts her. I know it when her arms can't quite make it all the way around me when we hug. I see it in my baby's eyes when we pretend to watch a sunset. It is mainly because of the sorrow I cause my guiding light, my love, my soul mate, my honey bee, my 29 out of 29 on eharmony, that I have been diligently working on reducing my weight.

Each year I have employed a different weight loss strategy in the hopes of regaining a svelte appearance.

Year 1) THE YEAR OF IGNORANCE: I ignored my weight in the hopes that my problem would disappear. Though this strategy felt good and was the easiest, it failed miserably.

Year 2) THE YEAR OF LIPOSUCTION: They sucked a good ten pounds out of me. Let me say that liposuction is a real rush. Anyone who has not tried it should definitely give it a shot. It beats any roller coaster I have ever been on. Sadly I could not keep the weight off. I gained that weight back and another 10 pounds afterwards.

Year 3) THE YEAR OF GASTRIC BANDING: Stomach Stapling. It sounds really bad, but it isn't. They give you lots of morphine and other addictive narcotics that make the whole thing truly enjoyable. It certainly made my stomach smaller, but it didn't keep me from eating. I ate constantly and, though I had a reduced stomach capacity, I kept my gizzard stuffed to the brim. I gained more weight that year than the previous two years combined.

Year 4) THE YEAR OF JEREMY: My tape worm...at least he was my tapeworm until my doctor found out. I opted for adoption. Low and behold I had a friend who was searching for a companion. That gentleman took my friend, named him Jeremy and has been treating him with uncommon dignity for many years now. I still go see him sometimes to catch up. I miss him, but I know he is in good care. The surgery that separated me from my friend lost me five pounds. Jeremy had kept me from gaining weight, but once again I could not keep the weight off.

Year 5) THE YEAR OF ELECTRICITY: I got serious. For those of you who have been electrocuted, you know the weight benefits. For twenty minutes a day I would stick my finger in an electrical outlet, and let nature fry my adipose tissue. Let me say that the biggest barrier between me and my weight goal, is my doctor. Right when I have a good thing going, he always steps in and tries to stop it. I think he likes me being fat. One day my mother found me with my finger in the outlet, she immediately took me to the doctor (I wonder if my own mother has turned on me!). The doctor immediately took me off of my weight program (which had been working marvelously) and prescribed me some pills which were supposed to help my heart and liver out after the 'damage' I had caused them. To this day I do not know why losing weight would hurt your heart, much less your liver. I know my heart is important, but I really don't care all that much for my liver, the doctor had put me on 600mg of different medicines a day. I never took a single one of those pills. Imagine how much more I would weigh if you add 600mg a day up. According to Google over one year I would add a whole 219,000mg to my weight.

Year 6) THE YEAR OF THE MACHINE: Kids, don't try this at home. I created an apparatus that would –EDITED FOR CONTENT— I placed myself in the concaver –EDITED FOR CONTENT— needless to say the pain was unbearable –EDITED FOR CONTENT— I really think that my brother chose the wrong moment to enter the room. His shock was understandable after all I had just finished –EDITED FOR CONTENT— That was when they sent me to that doctor again –EDITED FOR CONTENT— I didn't take those pills either. I may get headaches every day, but I think it is worth it. I couldn't keep that weight off though. In one month I gained back the fifty pounds I lost. Talk about demoralizing

Year 7) THE YEAR OF AUXILIARY ORGAN AMPUTATION: This year, is amputation year. My body is chock full of organs and other things I just don't need. I can do without my appendix, and one of my kidneys can go. I heard of one guy who survived with only one lung. Most of my teeth can go. What do the ones in the back do for you? No one can see them unless you choose to make an exposé out of it. I am thinking about removing one of the muscles that makes up my bicep, maybe go for a the unicep look, maybe even do the same operation to my tricep. Really now, who needs two or three muscles when you can have one do the job. I also am going to shave my head, my eyebrows, and cut off my eyelashes. Dedication is a must to seriously lose weight. My ears can go - the outside part is not needed to hear. My nose (which is INCREDIBLY large and weighty) can be removed. If it worked for Michael Jackson, it can work for me. I am also looking into removing large muscles and tendons. Who really needs their Achilles tendon? The only person I know of who did anything with that thing was Achilles, and that killed him. I don't want to die, I figure that tendon can go. If all that doesn't work, I can amputate my head. A friend once told me that head removal is the best way to lose the ugliest eight pounds on your body. I like that, kill two birds with one stone.

The long and the short of it is that I need help. I am writing this to let out some of the frustration that has built up within me. Many people have called me "anorexic," told me I am "skinny" and made other unhelpful remarks about my weight when I bring it up. I have even had some who chose to laugh in my face about it. Only recently did I find someone who showed true understanding and compassion towards my problem. If it weren't for her, I doubt I would have the courage to write this, even if it is anonymous. I am asking for your help, for your collective cybersupport. I am counting on you.

Fashion #2: Tigers Are Cool

Funny Class Notes has a new guest contributor! A longtime reader and member of the faithful few has been accepted into the ranks of the writers who call this site their online home. Chip has been reading since August of 2007 and here is how we introduced him back then:

Reader number ten is an exceptionally overweight individual named Chip. Chip's main reason for coming to our page was to find solidarity. That's right, our tenth reader came to FCN because he wanted to find dumb people with whom to associate. Chip has, according to his G-Talk picture, an affinity for tight white undershirts and the style he chooses does little to hide his bulky middle or hairy back. He sent us a long email full of lovingly misspelled words in which he poured out his life's wish to work as a corporate executive at a Fortune 500 company. We assured him in our reply that white collar work isn't all it's cracked up to be and that he would be much happier working graveyard at Taco Bell while supporting eight kids and his own beer belly. We also advised that one major prerequisite to the Chief Executive's chair is teeth brushing and that he might want to consider other personal hygiene innovations as well. Yeah, we really hit it off.

In order to accept Chip as a contributor, we required he wait outside the door of our house for three days without food, shelter or encouragement and endure our verbal abuse without giving up. Chip succeeded and was invited into our ranks. Below is his first post as a guest contributor.

If April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring? That's right, a new spring wardrobe! And if you're looking for the hottest trends, you will find no better role model than the perennial tiger, who burns bright in his jungle home. Tigers are slim, sleek, powerful, and always ready to kill. Here are ten eleven reasons that tigers are the greatest fashion and lifestyle freaks around:

1. Tigers have stripes.
I know what you're thinking. So do wasps, zebras, and "construction zone" signs, all three of which are not likely to appear in the latest issue of... whatever you read to keep up with style. But hear me out. You are forgetting that stripes are an old staple when it comes to pajama pants, which, in a glorious merging of hip culture and pariah college derelict culture, have become quite a hit for Spring of this year. So, stripes it is!

2. Tigers work out.
Tigers don't sit around in classes doodling and writing funny class notes, although that is a pretty snazzy thing to do. Nor do tigers pant on the treadmill. No—tigers run 50 miles per hour through snow and consequently they are pretty ripped.

3. Girls like tigers.
Don't believe me? Well, think back to the last time you saw a girl wearing a shirt that said something like "I heart Tigger." Actually, it's more likely to have mentioned Pooh, but that's a different story. Let's just say that A.A. Milne was pretty with it.

4. Tigers are tech-savvy.
Yes, I'm talking about Mac OS 10.4, "OS X Tiger." Since Apple chose a tiger as the mascot for its operating system, tigers must be cool. For one thing, Macs don't run Windows. For another, Macs are chic and youthful, just like Obama.

5. Tigers are down-to-earth.
Every lion claims to be king of the beasts, but have you ever heard of a tiger putting on airs? In fact, the tiger is so humble that it occasionally deigns to breed with a snobby lion and has a liger baby. That's a good thing, because ligers are seriously the greatest animal, and they have skills in magic.

6. Tigers are rich and famous.
At least the Asian Tigers are. Check out your T-shirt: it was probably made in Taiwan, Singapore, Hong Kong, or South Korea. Or if it wasn't, it will be as soon as McCain abolishes trade quotas.

7. Tigers are into sports.
The Detroit Tigers started their season by losing to the White Sox and beating the Red Sox, which shows that they're into clothes (i.e. socks), if not fashion. It also shows that tigers like sports, which is a plus when it comes to trendiness.

8. Tigers kill animals.
Killing animals is a valiant thing to do and, if you're of the male persuasion, you can always count on a good kill to show how macho you really are. Consider that day last Fall when you sauntered into the house of your old family friend, and found yourself staring into the glassy eyes of a giant buck, whose head had been impressively mounted on the wall. Chances are, your friend noticed your glance and offered some welcome explanation:

"Like it? Just had the thing mounted. We'd walked for ten miles, me n' Jim, and our water was running out. Then Jim put his hand on me and pointed. The wind was in our direction, so we knew it was gonna sniff us out fast. I leveled my sight on 'im and Bang! But the durn thing jumped up just then and set off running, so my shot got 'im in the left thigh, and he disappeared into the leaves, so we had to track him. We followed the trail of blood for five miles and found the thing curled up by a stream, with the buzzards circling overhead and the wolves howling in the distance. So we gutted it there and hoisted the meat up our shoulders..." Etc. Then your friend probably showed you the buck's hide, with two bullet holes in it, and told you that the taxonomist had said it was a first-rate piece of skin, et cetera.

9. Tigers kill people.
Have you noticed how popular the Bourne movies are? We're not talking about geek-popular, or even man-popular. Even your glitter-clad, texting teenage teenybopperette has seen them. What's the attraction? Having breathlessly watched all three installments, I can see only one reason for their popularity: the amount of people killed. Deadly is the new sexy. In California, they even made an "exterminator" their governor. Go figure.

10. Tigers procrastinate.
Have you ever been to the tiger cage at the zoo? Those lazy things lie around all day in the sun, their bellies full of free fresh meat and their tails too sleepy to bat a fly off their magnificent fur coats. If you're an average cubicle slave you probably grit your teeth at the sight and wish the government would support you instead of those feline dukes and duchesses. If, on the other hand, you're a college derelict, you probably don't even look twice. Those tigers know the secret of a happy life, just like you.

11. Tigers are carnivores
A tiger is one of the few fell creatures besides a human that would enjoy an animal-style feast from In-N-Out. Tigers don't eat sissy greens or wimpy fruits. If they went to Subway, they'd pass on the peppers and have a sandwich, not a salad. They gorge themselves on bleeding red flesh with the gusto of an obese American.