Anorexia nervosa is defined as a mental illness characterized by low body weight and a distorted body image, with a severe fear of gaining weight. I would like to say, I have conquered this illness and now have some other mental illnesses to work on.
Listen, I'm no Jared from Subway, but I feel my story should be told. If I can help just one emaciated sole, I have done my job. It was a long fight, but I conquered my demons, and now I am not only twice the man I once was, but I provide small children with shade on hot summer's days.
It all started in the summer of 1988. I had just graduated high school and a friend of mine liked to drive around all night while I got drunk. So each night we'd buy some Doritos and a case of beer and a few of us would drive around. The weight started to rise, but I'd usually drink too much and puke, causing me to lose my nutritional overload. I guess I beat bulimia too when I come to think about it. I continued this charade, while slipping into bars here and there, but the weight was only gradually gaining. A full schedule for sports and continued regurgitation and I just wasn't feeling good about myself. Then I went on unemployment and had nothing to do. I started a strict regimen of waking at 4PM, eating dinner and going to the bar until 4AM. Darts took over for basketball and in three months I had gained almost forty pounds. This was child's play. I needed to pack on some more pounds. I was still cold in the winter and this just wasn't acceptable. What could I do?
Well in 1996 I decided to go back to school I was at Manhattan College competing in many classes with those much younger and leaner and I know I had to gain some weight if I wanted to bully them around. I ended up tearing my ACL and opted out of surgery. Where was I going, the NBA? No way, I had grander visions of hot dog and hamburger eating competitions. The knees were shot and I was stuck hanging out with college kids all day. Well, when in Rome. I started doing shots and drinking like a madmen. My GPA (Gallons of Potent Alcohol) was on the rise and people seemed to like me. I realized that the skinny me was liked, but the new me had somewhat of a Santa quality. The winter came and shorts and a t-shirt was all that was needed. I was happy knowing that heat was something for the old me. I could sustain on sub-balmy temperatures and be happy. I also had stopped vomiting after marathon drinking sessions.
I remember the old days fondly. I remember when a six-pack was a body part, now it's hors d'oeuvres before a baseball game. I think back to shirts that didn't have an X in the size. I figure if I can continue my life's battles, I can work my way up to porno shirts (XXX baby!). Sure there are people who will make fun of me, and I get the circus tent jokes and stuff like that, but nobody knows what it was like. With my new body, I hardly notice the fungus growing in between my toes. Because honestly, when it comes to toes, I'll take your word for it that I have them.
I don't want admiration or fanfare, if you see me, no words are necessary, just buy me a beer. I am just here to inspire...or is it perspire.
Disclaimer: This is in no means a cry for help. I realize that a diet of beer and fried food is not a diet at all. I know that obesity and alcohol are not things to make fun of. I also realize that their are people who really do struggle with anorexia and for this I am ashamed...hold on, trying to eat and type at the same time....and I wish that they would realize that people love them for who they are not what they look like. Except for that girl who turned me down in grammar school. She is both too skinny and too fat and I hopes she chokes to death on her next meal, whether it be going into her or coming out.
Listen, I'm no Jared from Subway, but I feel my story should be told. If I can help just one emaciated sole, I have done my job. It was a long fight, but I conquered my demons, and now I am not only twice the man I once was, but I provide small children with shade on hot summer's days.
It all started in the summer of 1988. I had just graduated high school and a friend of mine liked to drive around all night while I got drunk. So each night we'd buy some Doritos and a case of beer and a few of us would drive around. The weight started to rise, but I'd usually drink too much and puke, causing me to lose my nutritional overload. I guess I beat bulimia too when I come to think about it. I continued this charade, while slipping into bars here and there, but the weight was only gradually gaining. A full schedule for sports and continued regurgitation and I just wasn't feeling good about myself. Then I went on unemployment and had nothing to do. I started a strict regimen of waking at 4PM, eating dinner and going to the bar until 4AM. Darts took over for basketball and in three months I had gained almost forty pounds. This was child's play. I needed to pack on some more pounds. I was still cold in the winter and this just wasn't acceptable. What could I do?
Well in 1996 I decided to go back to school I was at Manhattan College competing in many classes with those much younger and leaner and I know I had to gain some weight if I wanted to bully them around. I ended up tearing my ACL and opted out of surgery. Where was I going, the NBA? No way, I had grander visions of hot dog and hamburger eating competitions. The knees were shot and I was stuck hanging out with college kids all day. Well, when in Rome. I started doing shots and drinking like a madmen. My GPA (Gallons of Potent Alcohol) was on the rise and people seemed to like me. I realized that the skinny me was liked, but the new me had somewhat of a Santa quality. The winter came and shorts and a t-shirt was all that was needed. I was happy knowing that heat was something for the old me. I could sustain on sub-balmy temperatures and be happy. I also had stopped vomiting after marathon drinking sessions.
I remember the old days fondly. I remember when a six-pack was a body part, now it's hors d'oeuvres before a baseball game. I think back to shirts that didn't have an X in the size. I figure if I can continue my life's battles, I can work my way up to porno shirts (XXX baby!). Sure there are people who will make fun of me, and I get the circus tent jokes and stuff like that, but nobody knows what it was like. With my new body, I hardly notice the fungus growing in between my toes. Because honestly, when it comes to toes, I'll take your word for it that I have them.
I don't want admiration or fanfare, if you see me, no words are necessary, just buy me a beer. I am just here to inspire...or is it perspire.
Disclaimer: This is in no means a cry for help. I realize that a diet of beer and fried food is not a diet at all. I know that obesity and alcohol are not things to make fun of. I also realize that their are people who really do struggle with anorexia and for this I am ashamed...hold on, trying to eat and type at the same time....and I wish that they would realize that people love them for who they are not what they look like. Except for that girl who turned me down in grammar school. She is both too skinny and too fat and I hopes she chokes to death on her next meal, whether it be going into her or coming out.
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