In the past I have spoken about my massive enormity. I'm a fat guy, there's no denying it. But last year I went to the doctor, and he had some strange objection to me being so fat. Something about it making me die or some nonsense like that. I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention. He seemed pretty insistent that I do something about it, though, so I started to lose weight. That was 90 lbs ago, if my scale can be trusted. Franky, I'm inclined to believe that the scale is part of a conspiracy that includes my friends and family, and possibly my mirrors and clothes. Assuming, for a moment, that such is NOT the case and that I actually have dropped an entire anorexic person from my body mass, you'd think things would be going swell for me. You'd be wrong. How so? Read on, my friends.
Well, at least I look better now, right? Nope. I'm still fat. I know, I know. "But Thunderchunk, you just said you lost 90 lbs. How can you still be fat?" Well, I used to be really really fat, now I'm just really fat. 90 lbs is apparently equivalent to one really. But if you were to see me on the street, you'd still call me a fat guy, so I can't exactly brag about the weight loss. "Hey, I used to be morbidly obese! Now I'm just the regular kind! Isn't that great?" isn't the sort of thing that people can get behind. All it will do is make them mentally add 90 lbs to see what I must have looked like and then vomit in disgust. Not only that, but I can't afford a whole new wardrobe, so I actually look WORSE now, wandering around with 4X clothes flapping around on a 3X body. I look vaguely like an extremely formal clown. Picture one of those Weight Watchers commercials, only instead of throwing the "before" pants away, I just cinch them up with a belt and go about my business. Oh yeah. Sexy. Not only that, but the clothes aren't the only things getting baggy. Evidently when I started to lose weight, my skin didn't get the memo. I am slowly looking more and more like a Shar pei, and I suffer from a malady I like to call "The Dangly Arm" which I think speaks for itself.
Surely, then, there have been tremendous health benefits, right? Wrong again. Anybody out there ever heard of sciatica? Allow me to describe it to you. Imagine if someone took a piece of red hot barbed wire and poked it into your butt cheek and threaded it down along the inside of your leg and out the bottom of your foot. Now imagine that every time you stand up, sit down, get comfortable, or sometimes for no reason at all, they give the barbed wire a good hard tug. That's sciatica. Normally people get this from back injuries, or from working back intensive jobs, or from gaining weight quickly. A statistically insignificant number of people get it from LOSING weight quickly. Guess which group I'm in. Yep, my reward for all of the working out and eating right is a nerve problem that makes comfortable chairs and soft beds tortuously painful to use. Grand. I asked how precisely losing weight could cause this, and I got an explanation along the lines of, "Well, you see, the disc used to be compressed, but now the pressure is off and the nerve moved and… you know what? God just hates you." On the plus side, thanks to its reputation of being almost entirely immune to normal pain killers, I got a prescription for Vicodin! Now I can have an opiate addiction and a chronic leg pain problem, just like House!
People ARE complementing me on the weight loss… at first. They will run up and say, "You look great!" And slap me on the back. Everyone does this. I have had people I don't know do this to me. We are talking about a guy who I know exclusively as "The Happy Black Guy On The Exchange Place Elevator" telling me I looked like I was losing weight. The trouble is, they never JUST say I look good. They always say, "You look good! What have you been doing?" And I say, "Eating less and moving more." The response is always the same. A dejected "Oh…" This is because they were hoping I had found the secret to magical weight loss. They don't want to hear about diet and exercise. They want to hear you say, "Seriously? Rub a moth ball on your left eyelid every night before you go to sleep. The pounds will melt away." They want something easy. Hard work and discipline will just get you dirty looks.
And speaking of dirty looks, you know who hates to see a fat person who lost weight? A fat person who DIDN'T lose weight. Suddenly I'm making them look bad by succeeding. This is a scenario that has played out more times than I care to count. I run into a couple, one of which is fatter than the other. The skinny one says, "Wow, look at you! (Elbows significant other in the ribs) See, HE can do it!" And my chubby compatriot gives me a look that could curdle milk. Forget ordering food around someone who I used to gorge with, too. "What do you MEAN you're getting the six inch sub? You… you always get the foot long and a brownie!? I don't know you anymore." It has gotten to the point where I'll order the full sandwich and leave half in the fridge just to keep the peace. Never have so many friendships been threatened by a cold cut combo.
So there you have it. I lost a bunch of weight and it isn't all it is cracked up to be. So far I've discovered that a skinnier neck does wonders to accentuate my colossal melon head, I am a big fan of opium based narcotics, and being fat is only fun when you have someone to be fat with. I'm not too worried though. I figure that by next year I will either have lost the other really and end up as just fat, or I will gain the first really back again and be back to where I started. Until then I'll just keep myself occupied grossing people out by tugging on my excess skin. Good times.