Hey, you don’t wanna be laughed at, you should probably put down the fuckin fork, is kind of how I looked at it. Damn right I laughed at him. Fat fuck like that, how you gonna not laugh? He wasn’t just “fat,” for one thing; we’re talking obese. His giant thighs were smashed together but his feet were like three feet apart, his back arched cuz his center of gravity’s all fucked up, arms sticking almost straight out at his sides cuz he can’t put ‘em down around that big roll of tit fat. Dude, you’ve got your tits on your sides, people are gonna laugh. Did it hurt his feelings?! Boo-fuckin’-hoo, we’re talking about a grown man. My age, more or less, and I’ve been in 32s since I was a kid. I win, he fails -- if the truth hurts, go home and bury your feelings in donuts and pie. Wouldn’t be the first time, by the looks of it.
So yeah, I usually had something to say to him -- fatties are fair game where I come from. If you waddle instead of walk, you’ve gotta expect a certain amount of shit. Especially a young guy like him who looks like he’d otherwise be kinda handsome. I get comments on my looks all the time -- guys wanna buy me a beer, wanna get a handful of my ass. It’s not bragging if it’s true; how is cracking on him and his body any different?
Then Blubber Butt starts showing up in workout clothes. Hilarious on so many levels I didn’t know what to laugh at first. Where does a guy with an ass the size of a Volkswagen get workout clothes, for one thing? Lotsa five hundred-pounders going to the gym these days, are there? Not at my gym. Course I haven’t been to the gym in a minute, but I sure don’t remember seeing a ton of fatties, ha ha, trying to work it off. Who does he think he’s kidding? He probably just wears ‘em cuz he doesn’t look as fat. Must be some kinda Super Spandex in those shorts, cuz his ass and those rub-together thighs don’t look as jumbo as I know they are. Well, as I know they used to be. And I hate to break it you, dude, but just sucking it in so your gut doesn’t sag like it used to doesn’t mean it still ain’t there. Sure, I’ve thickened up a little bit. I also turned thirty last year. It happens to everybody. There is no shame in 34-inch jeans at my age. OK, 36s, but hell, at least I don’t waddle like some of my neighbors I could mention.
OK, maybe he doesn’t exactly “waddle” any more, but he sure fucking used to. It still looks like there’s two pigs fighting in a sack under those shorts, and his gut might have shrunk, but it still looks like it’s softer than a sack of shit. Just cuz they’re smaller than they used to be doesn’t mean any dude should have tits that big. It’s not like we live in a world where being able to put your sausage-fat arms at your sides counts as some sort of an accomplishment.
Yeah yeah, my buddies give me a little shit for the gut I’m growing. It’s got some squish on it, but just cuz I need to get back to the gym. My membership lapsed, I just need to renew it and I’ll be back in the 36s in no time. I’m not saying I’m proud to be packed into fuckin forties, I’m just saying, it’s not gonna be hard to work off. I’m barely thirty-four, for Christ’s sake, I just need to get serious. Hell, look at Blubber Butt next door. He’s been hitting the gym like a madman from the looks of it. He’s still fat, man, no other way of putting it, but at least he doesn’t bounce like a pile of Jell-o every step he takes, and his shirts don’t look like he could rent ‘em out as billboards for extra cash anymore. He’s a big guy, no shit, but he’s lost a coupla them chins, and turns out I was right -- he could be kinda cute. If he didn’t need a bra.
Walked by the gym the other day, in fact -- yeah, yeah, I shoulda been walking TO the gym, I know -- and saw this big dude coming out. It still looks funny to see a big fat guy at a gym, and I was winding up to pitch him a crack about how it doesn’t seem to be working, but it stuck in my throat. Yeah, he had a big roll of spare tire, but he had great legs, and an ass that looked like it’d eat like cantaloupe -- round and ripe, juicy and sweet. I caught our reflections in the window and damn near choked on my joke. Thank god I hadn’t said anything. The tasty ass was bouncing behind none other than Blubber Butt, and in the fuckin fun house mirror of the gym window, I looked bigger than he did. I knew I’d kind of let it go lately, I knew I was softer than I should be, but there was no fuckin way I had more blub on me than neighbor boy had on him. I had just started shopping at the Big & Tall, and he’d obviously been going there his whole life. OK, gun to my head I’d admit it, I’d gotten pretty out of shape, but I was no Fatty. I’m back to the gym starting today, I swore, and I’m hitting it hard.
I didn’t hit it that same day -- I was way too full of Burger King to be going to the gym, and I was on a mission to get to the Dairy Queen before the end of my lunch hour. But I’m gonna get back to the gym sooner than my jackass buddies think. I’m gonna dump this bullshit blubber and shut ‘em all up. Thirty-six is not that old, I just need to get off the fuckin couch. I need to talk to my neighbor, ask him how he did it. Still got an ass like a couple of basketballs on him -- how’d he get that pile of pudding so firm might be the first thing I ask him -- but he’s barely even got a gut on him anymore. He’s toned up pretty nice, and I was wrong about him being “kinda handsome” -- he’s hot as shit. I promise you’da never known there was such a stud buried under all that blubber. “Just like you!” cracked one of my less funny buddies. I swear, guy adds a little weight, suddenly everyone’s a comedian.
So I walk into the thrift store up the street today -- walk, OK, I do not waddle, and all my dickhead buddies who think it’s funny to joke about how I do can go fuck themselves -- and guess who’s at the counter. Flirting with the hipster nerdy kid that works there who wouldn’t give me the time of day last time I was in here. I guess he’s only into gym-whore bodies, like this guy’s such a big deal. "I used to make fun of his lard ass," I would totally say, if it didn’t leave me so wide open to a hundred and one not-so-clever comebacks. Besides, it looks like he might have a bunch of his old shit to donate, and I’m about ready for another upgrade. Am I proud to almost be his old size? To be standing here with my feet three feet apart cuzza the size of my legs just like his fat ass used to? Fuck no. But will I be happy to get my hands on some Big & Tall shit to tide me over before I dump this weight -- buncha my buddies got me a gym membership for my fortieth last month -- at thrift store prices? Fuckin right I will be. I swear to god Casual Male adds ten bucks for every X, just in case eatin myself this big isn’t expensive enough.
He initiates, which is more embarrassing than I’m gonna go ahead and admit to you. "Hey, big guy, you should look through some of this stuff. I used to be about your size, you should check it out." Humiliating the shit out of me and impressing the hell out of nerd boy – nice bank shot, asshole. But I play it cool, no way I’m gonna let him know he’s getting to me. "What you got?" Ooh and aah, whatever, as I sift through the pile. It clicks, though, after the hundredth shirt that would never fit me, and I hope he doesn’t see the sweat. There’s no fucking way I’m bigger than he used to be. Than he ever was? I would die! Nah, I got this. "I’m pretty set for shirts," I lie, sagging out from underneath the biggest one I own. "Could use some pants though." "Definitely, man" he says. "Take a look. Got all kinds of shit. Jeans, dress pants. Workout shorts." I know he didn’t laugh when he said that. "What size you need? he asks. I got a bunch of 54s, 56s. Even got a few 58s. Hell, I was gonna donate ‘em anyway – take whatever you want." My throat goes dry as a bone and I actually have to start the most humiliating sentence I’ve ever uttered three times before I can spit it out: "I’m a little past 58s," I manage. "Hopin’ for more like 64s." The nerdy hipster actually whistles, as if his 28-inch-ass would know anything about it. "Bet you don’t admit to that everywhere you go," neighbor boy has the gall to chuckle. Both skinny fuckers laugh and I feel my face go hot and red. "Hey," neighbor boy has the nerve to give my overhang a heft when he says it, even though he’s talking to nerd boy. "You don’t wanna be laughed at, you should probably put down the fuckin fork, right?"