When I was a kid I was “chubby,” as I got a little older I became “husky,” which morphed into being “big boned” and then plateaued into being called “heavy.” But once you become an adult, you’re just plain “fat.”
Yep, 5’9” and 285 lbs. puts me squarely in that category. I’ve been on every diet you can think of, both the so-called healthy ones and all the fad ones. The list is so long I could wrap it around my waist several times. And here’s the truth – They All Work!! For a while anyway.
I have lived on the weight gain and loss roller coaster my whole life. But this article isn’t about diets. (Although, I always thought it would be fun to write a diet book. The title would be – Stop Eating, You Fat Bastard! You would open to the first and only page and it would read, “Here’s your diet plan and instructions, please re-read the title of this book.” And that would be it.)
Instead, I want to write about being a happy, yet frustrated and sometimes angry, fat man in his 60s. I’m happy because I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m never going to be skinny. I’m never going to have six pack abs, and I’m never going to wear skinny jeans. And as far as mortality goes, well none of us are going to live forever. Just ask all those skinny, healthy guys who run, jog and bike their asses off only to drop dead in their 50s. I’ve already got them beat.
I enjoy life, I love to cook and go out to restaurants. I like a big steak, single malt scotch, bacon, pasta, pizza, double hamburgers with cheese, ice cream, anything with butter on it…and did I mention bacon? I even like salads (as long as there’s chunky blue cheese dressing all over it). I love Italian, French, Mexican, Chinese, Indian, BBQ, seafood, you name it – I’ll eat it and I’ll be happy doing it.
Then there’s the frustrating part of being a fat man. Like the days when my knees hurt from being overweight and being a little short of breath going up the stairs. Squeezing into a restaurant booth is always a favorite. How about sitting in plane and having to ask for a seat belt extension?
Buying clothes is especially frustrating. Why do clothing manufacturers make the sleeves so long if you wear a XXX shirt? Do they assume that your arms are so elongated that your knuckles drag on the ground like an orangutan? It’s the same problem with pants. If I have a 50” waist that doesn’t mean I have 72” legs! I end up spending twice as much on alterations then the damn pants cost in the first place. A guy like me simply cannot go into Macy’s, Nordstrom or any major department store and find clothes that fit. We have been relegated to the Big & Tall shops.
And then there are days when I get angry. Angry at myself for letting things get to this point, and not keeping the pounds off after I lost them. But what really gets me are all of the thin people that feel it’s their responsibility to advise me on why I’m fat and what I should do about it. All of you, please do me a really big favor – if you’ve never had a weight problem, always been skinny or at your perfect weight, can eat what you want and not gain an ounce, wear whatever you want, love going to the gym, can’t wait to prance around in your summer beach body and think kale chips taste great – kiss my fat ass, leave me alone and keep your unsolicited advice to yourself! Because you really don’t know what it’s like or what you’re talking about.
I’m sure some psychologist could analyze me for hours about why I have a weight problem and a lack of will power to lose it and keep it off. That still won’t change the fact that I’m a 63 year old fat guy who likes to eat. But you know what? At the end of the day none of us are perfect, and we all come in different sizes. As long as I’m happy then just be happy with me. As long as I love you for who you are, just love me for who I am. So that’s my rant and you can be sure that as soon as this coronavirus is over and restaurants are back open, I’m going out for a great big meal.