That Guy's Vein Is Kickin'

The other night a friend was saying he was throwing a party at a bar called Fat Pour, and I thought for all the world that he said fat porn.  This got me thinking that I have seen a couple of fan porns.  One night my buddiess from our high school track team decided to get together one night to watch a couple of these disgusting films.  One of our friends worked at a video store, and I think his morbid curiosity got the best of him, staring at those boxes in the little room behind the curtain all those times.  We settled in for a horrifying double feature: "Life in the Fat Lane" and "Fat Liners," both of which were equally gross.  They were just a series of big buff studs taking on really fat women, and one of them, the headliner, was around 800 pounds.  She looked like the Michelin Man.

Every ripple is like a new position in the Kamasutra!

Years later I ran into a guy from the track team who was there that fateful night.  He had long hair and would listen to Nine Inch Nails between races, which is of no consequence, but a fine choice for music, I think.  Anyway, he said, "Do you remember what you said that night that had us all laughing our asses off?"  I could not even wager a guess.  I was a much quieter and shy guy back then, believe it or not, so when I would finally say something, it was usually a doozy.  Apparently what I said when turning away from a close up on a big screen of a guy's wang was "Ugh, that guy's vein is kickin'."

What you don't want to do when you're picking up some wine at the store is go for the jumbo bottle where there are like three bottles worth in one.  It seems to make a lot of sense: easier to carry than three bottles, a better price than three bottles.  The down side is you end up knocking down loads of it, and it barely looks like you made a dent.  So, with so much to spare, you gladly pour yourself another until you're where I'm at - too buzzed up to want to leave the house, which is actually good from a saving money standpoint.

I figured since I'm pleasantly buzzed with nowhere to go or a willingness to go there, this would be a good time to tell you all a story.

I was working out to the Insanity DVD, mummy-kicking and sweating buckets, when a morbidly obese Latino kid who looked to be around 11-years-old struck up a conversation with me.  "Is that how you got skinny?" he asked.  I told him not specifically, but that I do like people telling me what to do or I get lazy.  Undeterred by the fact that I was looking straight at the screen (never directly at him) and doing flipping burpies, or whatever, he then asked if I could tell him what exercises to do.  He tried to do what I was doing, but I got the feeling that he was self-conscious about the way his body looked when jumping up and down, which I get.  He looks like a young man who never works out, so there was no need to force him out of his comfort zone when getting any kind of work out of him is probably a success.

So when I would get breaks in the action on the DVD, I would hurry up and give him things to do, like riding the eliptical for a mile or so, and doing a set of curls, bench press, and push-downs.  I gave him realistic reps to shoot for, enough to challenge him, but not so much where he was going to either puke or get so incredibly sore he would never come back.  After a few cycles of those activities, he seemed quite pleased with himself, and he was pushing himself surprisingly hard.

He wanted to switch discs on my workout to play the dancing game on the xbox, but I told him that as long as he stayed active for the remaining 37 minutes of the TV workout, I would set it up and dance away with him.  And he actually did steadily work out for the duration.  At one point he smiled and pointed out how much he was sweating.  Then our sweaty asses did "Promiscuous" on the dance game together.  It was funny because in the top corner it shows your own body above the dancer to show where you are in relation to the sensor, and his body was absolutely huge.  However, that didn't matter because this young man was putting me to shame, racking up perfect scores on the majority of his moves while I was thrilled with a "good" of my own.



He was ready to work out again tomorrow, but I told him I have to fly out to L.A. right after work and Monday was no good, but I could meet him at the same time and place on Tuesday.

This whole episode could be my repents for my negative feelings I have had for overweight people over the years (like the previous post, for instance).  Here is a kid who may have the odds stacked against him: maybe a poor home life, nothing but junk food ever in the house, childhood depression, being the victim of constant teasing.  And here he is looking to push himself to "get skinny," taking the initiative to ask for help.

Well, I hope I can help this fella, and not to make myself feel less guilty or like a decent person, but because he seems like a really sweet kid who seems to already feel a little better about himself. 

Wendy

Wendy, the one the popular fast food restaurant is named after, is now the lead spokesman in the ads.  Before her it was Dave, her father.  The thing is, Dave was always overweight and eventually died of a liver cancer, which I think would be bad for business.  After all, the liver is not a fan of breaking down processed fatty foods.  However, along comes Wendy, no longer the thin girl with braids that you see a picture of on your Frosty, and now she is quite heavy as well. 

"It's my damn company, and I'll eat every last one of these over-sized fries!"

 I would say that with the kind of money she has, she should be on a strict work out regimen to show those customers that you can pick a lot of healthy options at Wendy's, but I can't blame her.  If I were Wendy, I would be out partying all night, show up at 7AM to a local Wendy's and  demand free bacon double cheeseburgers.  If they said there was only breakfast, I'd say, "Muthafucka, I'm Wendy!  Why don't you take a look at those cartons you shovel fries into all day long through out the course of you pathetic existence.  That's right.  That was me as a scrawny kid.  Now I'm a grown-ass BBW, so take your ass back there and fry me up my Big Bacon Classic!  Wendy loves her some Wendy's!"

Does she stick wires in those to make them do that?

 A friend and I were talking about this situation at the bar tonight, and then one of us said how maybe she would be a BBW a man could get it done with, but it might require a brown bag.  Maybe a couple Wendy's bags.  With french fry grease stains.  On each of your heads.  In case someones falls off.  But that's just a mean thing to say.

I like the shorts on that guy in the background

 So, what do you think, readers?  Should she drop some pounds for better press, or do you like to see someone who looks like they like to eat promoting those types of places? 

I'm Tired of Wicked-Fat People

I'm sorry if I'm alienating readers, but when I'm averaging like 1.2 comments a post, what do I really have to lose at this point?

When I watch the "Biggest Loser" and see these enormously fat people, I think what all of you think, "How in the hell did you let yourself get so mammoth?"  Now, I'm not talking about people 20 or 30 pounds overweight because that happens.  I'm talking about the big ass 300 + pounders.

There are a ton of excuses that wicked-fat people have been using for decades now, and none of them are valid, as you can see:

"It's genetic."  Could be.  Or maybe your parents eat like shit so you didn't know any better.  Now you're an adult so stop eating like crap.

"I'm big boned."  Yes, sometimes people have bigger frames, so there are those people who will never be a size 2 or have that 30 inch waist through healthy and safe means, but when you're 350, the bones have nothing to do with it.

"I eat because I'm depressed."  Maybe so, but try eating right and exercising for just one week and tell me if you're feeling nearly as bad as when you were killing that entire bag of hot chips when you promised yourself you'd only have a few.

"I just don't have time to work out."  I don't care what your job is or what your family obligations may be, you cannot tell me you can't find an hour somewhere in your day 5 days a week for the sake of your own health and lifespan.  Get up an hour early and work out in the morning or go for a run on your lunch hour, but do something.  Sometimes fat people feel embarrassed when they work out, but you know what I say when I see a fat person jogging by the lake?  "Way to go, buddy!  Keep that shit up!" 

"My significant other likes me the way I am."  I guarantee that when she said she likes a man with a little meat on his bones, she did not have three hundy' in mind.

People, we only get one life, and we only get one body.  Do you really want to spend your one life looking like the Michelin Man?  You don't need to go on the "Biggest Loser" and lose 150 pounds in 6 months because that's just not healthy.  You don't need to have unnecessary surgery in the form of stapling your stomach so small that it can only handle so much - it's called just not putting so much damn food into it (try some self-control!)  



Start small.

How about just switching to diet soda?  You don't like the taste?  No?  How do you like your dickie-do?

How about cutting out fast food.  Do you really need that processed crud?  You want grade D meat simply because you don't want to leave the comfort of your own car to feed yourself?

How about cutting out fried foods?  My doctor told me one of my cholesterol levels was slightly high, and that was all I had to hear.  Any time I can get something besides fries, I do it.  Yeah a side salad is not nearly as awesome as some seasoned fries from Bennigans, but my arteries don't get clogged from vinaigrette, and I don't feet like I need an immediate carb nap the way I do after a big-ass plate of fries. 

It's a simple formula: Just don't take in twice as many calories as you burn.  You can manage that.  Yes, you can start small, but it's important that you start today.  Throw out all your bad foods, go for a run, make some promises to yourself, and keep those promises.  Or live your life as the Michelin Man, but I doubt that's what you really want.