Meet Mr. Fat Guy

I don’t know why I am writing this or who it is for, but I felt like I needed to try and get it out of my head.

I wake up every morning wondering when I am going to die. I am slowly eating myself to death. It is like my body is trying to commit the slowest form of suicide possible, and I can’t stop it no matter how much I want to live. That is the only reason I can come up with to my constant need to eat, anyway. I weigh 378 lbs!! I think if I could lose about 160 lbs. my body would not want to die. The problem is I can’t seem to convince myself to lose it. Something in my brain tells me that I need to eat, no matter how miserable I am on a daily basis. I struggle to even walk. And when I do, I walk with a limp due to a knee surgery 10 years ago that removed 90% of the cartilage from my left knee and all the extra weight I now carry. Heck, I can barely stand up. If I sit somewhere too long, it takes me a second to roll myself up, and then everything snaps and pops and creaks and groans. My body is screaming at me to give it a rest. It won’t be able to support me much longer at this rate.

The other thought that I have before I go to bed and when I wake up is, “I will not eat today. Or I will only eat this. Or I will only eat that.” But, inevitably, I eat more than I probably would have if I hadn’t thought about it. I no longer know what it means to eat like a normal human being. For instance, if I go to McDonald’s, which is bad enough, I will order enough for probably 2-3 people. Instead of ordering a Value Meal and being done with it, I will order a value meal and large size it, add at least one or two more sandwiches off of the value menu and probably a pie. However, I always get a diet soda, so that is something. Overall, I am probably consuming close to 3000 calories in one sitting!! That doesn’t count any of the rest of the food that I ate that day. The other thought is always about exercise. “I think I will start walking today, which will lead to jogging, which will lead to running, which will lead to running a marathon.” Somehow in the midst of my outrageous daydreams of completing a marathon, I manage to forget that I can barely even walk because of my weight. When I remember, then I resign myself to lose some weight so I can exercise. It is a vicious cycle that I can not break.

Then there are the constant questions and fears that I deal with everyday. Will the chair hold me? Will my pants rip? Will my pants fall down? Do people think I am a lazy slob because of my size and my limited wardrobe? Will I sweat a lot and start to stink? Why is everyone constantly looking at me when I am eating? Will I be the biggest person in the room? Will I fall down and not be able to get up? Will I drop something and not be able to pick it up? Will I fit in that vehicle? Will they want me to fly somewhere for work, and I will have to refuse because I can’t fit in the seats? Will the chairs have arms that will make it extremely uncomfortable? Will it involve physical labor, because most of it I can not do without profusely sweating? Will I ever get a good night’s sleep again? Will my back stop hurting after lying in bed for only 5 hours?

The problem with all of the people I am around on a daily basis is that none of them have ever weighed what I weigh. None of them have ever had to deal with any of the questions above. They have always had the pleasure of shopping in normal stores. There is no one to relate to. I am sure they all just think that I got this way because I am a lazy slob, and that I must enjoy being this weight. I admit it. I am lazy most of the time. But, if I had a choice, I would be as fit as possible. Living this way is the worst sort of punishment. I often think about how I got this way. Let me make this clear up front. I AM NOT A VICTIM. I did this to myself and take full responsibility for it. But how did it all start? I was always a skinny kid. I was always running around and playing something outside. We didn’t have a whole lot of extra money, so we usually ate at home. In Junior High, I was on the basketball team and was a star distance runner in track in the 800m. (I know. I can’t believe it either). But, I got to high school and did not make the basketball team, so I dropped athletics altogether and focused on my music. I also started working at Dairy Queen at that time. I am sure the combination of no more daily exercise and cheap fast food probably started me down this path that led me to where I find myself. But, then it snowballed after I got married. It wasn’t the marriage part that made me this way. It was the getting into a routine with late nights at work and not eating at home that I could not escape.

I celebrate my marriage everyday and would not trade it for anything in the world. But, I feel bad everyday for my wife for having to be married to me. I am not the man she married. I am on the inside (definitely more opinionated, but mostly the same), but on the outside, I am a grotesque version of what she fell in love with. But, I know her love is unconditional, and she did not fall in love with my body.

That is enough for now.