This is a fat/hilarious pic of me. There’s lotion all over my buddy’s back. There’s lotion all over my front. Pretty gay, but it gives you an idea of my former fatassedness. I covered my friend’s face because he would not want to be seen losing a game of Guard the Glory.
I gained a lot of weight when I got sober. (I was on a lot of Xanax the night of the Gay Lotion Hump, which felt relatively sober compared to large vats of Jack Daniels and Bud Light.) My normal weight has always been between 165 and 175. When I got sober, I gained about 50 lbs within a couple of months. Like two months. I was pretty sure that was because I hadn’t eaten for a year or two. A slice of pizza here. A boiled egg there. Sometimes people had to bribe me to eat. “If you eat this burger, I’ll buy you some beer.” That’s fucking sad, now that I’ve written it down. I got sober-ish finally and started eating like a motherfucker. I consumed a lot of sugar, which is pretty common for people who just quit drinking. But 50 lbs?
There was this girl at group therapy for drunks and junkies who I was completely (aesthetically) in love with. She was a reason to live and stay sober. The only reason I had at the time. I got a gym membership and started working out like crazy. I didn’t lose any weight. I only got bigger and stronger. It was terrible. Anyway, that’s how I got fat and that’s how I didn’t get thin.
None of my shit fit anymore. I cut slits in the waist bands of my jeans. I wore a lot of sweat shirts. Finally, I bought some new shit—well, my mom bought me new shit. My motherfucking fat clothes. It was terrible.
I had this job interview during my fat period where I had to wear my suit. I got out of my car and tried to button my jacket. Tried. I got drunk as fuck the next day. I was convinced that a fat sober dude who lived with his mom would NEVER EVER get the pussy again. A month or two later, I ended up in coma. I lost all the weight plus twenty lbs. Jesus, this is taking me a long time to get to the point. I’ll have to cut this down later. Or not.
It’s been about five years since I got out of the hospital and I’m normal sized again. Here’s me normal size.
I noticed (again) that my jeans are sagging like a motherfucker this morning. The thing is, I didn’t buy these when I was fat. I was just used to buying fat jeans and bought the same size. I still have shit left over from those days that I don’t want to throw away. Maybe most people do this, thinking, I can wear this in case I turn into a fat fucker again. I don’t know if that’s what I’m thinking or not. I tell myself that I don’t want to buy new shit to save money and that my balls fit well into these baggy jeans. I have khakis that are way too big. I have Polos that are way too big. I’ve gotten rid of most of my fatass t-shirts, but t-shirts are cheap. And what if I end up fat again? I’ve moved passed the habit of buying fat dude pants, but I keep most of the fat stuff I already have until it is unwearable. Then I buy stuff that fits.
I still gorge myself on sweets to fill whatever hole we’re all trying to fill, even though I’m diabetic. And since I’m not running—due to laziness, work, whatever—I have a great fear of my fatness coming back.
It seems kind of defeatist to keep your fat clothes in case you get fat again, though it may just be realistic, like buying a carton of smokes instead of single pack. Does anyone else do this? What are your reasons? I use the excuse of my nutsac and my low budget. What excuses do you use? Do you keep them? Throw them away?
What the actual fuck is wrong with me today?!?!