I like to give advice out to people. That’s nice of me. The problem, most of it is unsolicited. I’m not an ass about it. I don’t walk up to ugly married couples and suggest they not make a baby. That’s great advice. There are lots of ugly people in the world. By my counts, I saw 43 today. Yes, I actually counted how many people whom I saw in person who I could consider ugly. It’s a fun game to play and lets me forget about other problems in my life. Ugly people do serve a purpose. They remind me that I’m not them.
The main thing I have given people advice on is weight loss. I’m no Adonis or anything. I probably will never grace the covers of a fitness magazine. I don’t know why I would even want to. They’re only masturbation fodder for gay teenage boys too afraid to look up real gay porn on the Internet. Instead they settle for whichever professional wrestler is showing off his abs this month. I do believe that I at least have some knowledge to offer on the subject though. For the uninformed, I used to be very overweight. I remember my Indian doctor saying “I have a chart of weights here that match up with heights. Your weight does not match up with any heights.” Well fuck you. I’m sorry that your chart doesn’t go up to 8’9. We weren’t all born in a place where there term “Holy Cow” should be taken literally. (I had an even longer rant on this but it seemed too racist. Instead I’ll leave you with a picture of Phil Rizzuto whose catchphrase was “Holy Cow”)
(He swings like a gay kid who doesn’t know what baseball is)
How did I lose this weight? I used this book that my mom got me. It was called Jorge Cruise’s 8 Minutes in the Morning. It was a simple exercise guide which involved, on average, 8 minutes of exercising after immediately waking up. There was a diet to follow and little activities to do. I still have the notebook I wrote everything down in. It’s kind of sad to look through again at how lonely and sad I was back then. Even worse is that some of the things haven’t changed despite my “amazing transformation.” If you’re fat and think everything about your life will change when you lose weight you’re kidding yourself. Things do get better. A lot better. But you’re still a bum who all the girls think are weird. You’re not the fat kid anymore. Now you’re the kid who used to be fat and now is just oddly shaped. Kind of like a nutty candy bar that has been stepped on.
I tried to pass this book along to others. I had this “Pay it Forward” fantasy in my head that the book would be passed along from fat kid to fat kid. We’d all shape our lives differently thanks to the kindness of friends helping us realize our full potential. That never happened. The book became mostly an object to collect dust and be ignored. The book pretty much became the same as those who possessed it.
The first person I gave it to told me he weighed 270 pounds. At my peak, I was 256. That’s 17 pounds more than Homer Simpson weighs if you’re keeping score. I don’t have anything else to say about that except to watch your donut consumption. It’s hard to lose track and pretty soon you’re a 16-year-old the size of a 35-year-old fat cartoon character. My friend insisted that he did the 30 day cycle twice and lost 20 pounds on it. I asked him how much he weighed now and he said 275. I’m no math expert but somebody was lying. I think it was him. I think it was him about even trying it at all. The second person I gave the book to admitted that he never even opened it. The last time I ever saw him I asked for it back. I don’t know why I wanted it back so badly. I guess it was still fresh in my head how it had helped change me that it was important for me to keep. He gave it back and we insisted that we’d hangout a lot once he went away to college. I’m not even sure if he’s alive or dead now. I guess that’s part of growing up. Having to wait until you see the ghost of a dead friend to know if they’ve passed over or not.
(This plus 17 pounds was my mid-teen years? And they say suicide is never an option…)
Others still never wanted the book. As much as I begged and pleaded with them that it could help, they refused. I almost don’t blame them. I was telling fat teenage boys to not only exercise and eat right, but also to read. What a bastard move. The excuse most of them gave me was “I want to lose the weight on my own.” None of them ever did. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help or taking advice. We all do it. Receiving advice is a way of not making the same mistakes other people have. Why should we all make the same mistakes over and over again? If you already know it’s not going to turn out well then skip over the heroin addiction. Nobody’s life ever got better from taking drugs. Unless they had cancer, but how can things get any worse from having cancer? Having cancer and being stuck in the hospital with Nickelback playing on loop?
Here’s some advice for you. Listen to all advice that people give you. If it seems viable, give it a shot. If it fails, you know they were a loser. You should also give out as much advice as possible. Never hesitate to offer your opinion on the matter to someone else. Most people want advice. They want to know they’re not alone and that they’re at least headed in the right direction. Lend a helping hand to others. Don’t be a fucking asshole. And most importantly, don’t insist that you can do it on your own unless you truly believe it. Most things are hard to do alone. Especially when you’re a fat teenage boy with few redeeming qualities outside of taking up space.
(At least he’s watching something with subtitles. That’s kind of like exercising, right?)