Less of me

For as long as I can remember, I was a tubby kid, flabbier than my “chart weight,” and teased for it by the other kids. I didn’t become truly enormous, though, until my late 20s, after a long-time girlfriend dumped me. Without her, it was cheesecake instead of delicious blowjobs, and when it left me unsatisfied, I’d have a second cheesecake. Not a second slice, a second cheesecake.

I’ve been a fat guy ever since, typically ordering two Big Macs, two Quarter Pounders, two large fries, two milk shakes, and two apple pies, calling it dinner, and then snacking a few hours later.

Adults tease fat people as much as kids do, usually as an annoying "expression of concern," but it's just as obnoxious, believe me. Do you think I don't know that I'm fat?

I am not one of those accidental fatsos. I'm fat, on purpose. I’ve never embraced the concept of 'full', because there's always room for one more eclair. I eat not because I’m hungry, but because it tastes good and feels good. We all have our craziness, and mine tastes better than yours.

And then, after my almost-as-fat friend Bruno croaked from a heart attack, I slowly but eventually started eating smarter. Over the course of several years I lost a man’s worth of weight, dropping all the way down to being merely tubby again.

Then came COVID-19 with all its worries, and working from home, where the fridge called my name 24/7 from just down the hall. After two years rooted in this recliner, I’ve gained back more than half the weight I once lost. Stepping onto the scale at the doctor’s office a few weeks ago was a moment of heavyweight sadness.

And so, I am going to lose the weight again, damn it. I’m announcing it here, because it’s more likely to happen if I announce it. Having given my word, I can't buy a pie. That’s the theory, anyway.

So I've said it, and I’ll be saying more. If you don’t care, that’s OK — I don’t care that you don’t care. If you’re a fattie like me, you’re invited to commiserate, share good advice and words of encouragement, and I’ll offer my own if you need ‘em.

My pledge to me: Less of me.

Weigh-in, 12/3/2021:
• At my biggest, five years ago: 380.
• At my smallest, two years ago: 180.
• At the doctor's office, two weeks ago: 299.
• Today, after a week and a half of salads: 297. 

I’ll finish this entry with a special prize for anyone who’s read to the end: In my wallet are two Burger King gift cards with meals remaining — $25.05 on one card, $21.07 on the other. They’re perpetually tempting me to waddle down the street and buy more Whoppers, so to cleanse myself of that urge, I’ll mail both cards free to the first person who sends me their real-world address. My email address is itsdougholland at gmail.com.

The cards have been claimed and mailed. 



← PREVIOUS          NEXT →


  1. I'm not gonna claim those cards, though I want to. Because I'm a hundred pounds fatter than you.

    At my fattest, I was officially 519. I think I was heavier. Lost 250, have gained a lot back. I keep trying, and have started again. Trying. It's fucking hard. Food is GOOD. It makes me feel good.

    1. Well, I can do it, and you're a smarter and better man than me.


🚨🚨 BY THE WAY 🚨🚨
The site's software sometimes swallows comments. If it eats yours, send an email and I'll get it posted.