PLUMP FICTION

(c) Breeze Vincinz

Over the past year or so I have lost a substantial amount of weight. I never really had any plans on talking about it or mentioning it until I got down to some ridiculously Olsen Twin-esque weight but the gist of the matter is that I joined Weight Watchers last January and as of date I have lost 140 pounds. I've got about 80 more pounds to go so I'm still big as an elephant but more like a cute baby elephant… with tattoos. 

I have really been avoiding sitting down and penning my "fat memoirs" as it were or extensively journaling about the journey, but so many people have come up and asked about that journey either out of curiosity or a subtle plea for assistance that I've been thinking that maybe I should sit myself down and have a good long look at how my exterior has affected my interior and vice versa all these years.

As far as I can remember I have always been a big guy. I once saw a picture of myself in the first or second grade and I was just amazed that there was a time in my life when I was weight and height proportionate, I can't remember that far back. All of my memories from grammar school to high school to college to strip clubs all revolve around me trying to find my own little niche as "chubby-funny-guy-with-a-good-heart" in whatever clique I decided to squeeze myself into.

Needless to say, finding that niche in Los Angeles proved itself to be quite the challenging task. Keep in mind that I have always bucked trends. When most people went to college and gained the "Freshman Ten", the ten pounds that most freshmen gain from overindulging in the cafeteria, I actually lost fifty pounds. I didn't stay in a dorm; I got an apartment and had to fend for myself which led to a couple of unintentional extended fasts as I simply could not afford food for almost a year. And when most people come to Los Angeles and lose the "Los Angles Five", the five pounds most people who relocate here shed immediately in response to the smaller waistlines here, I gained a hundred pounds by munching on mountains of "low calorie" and/or "low carb" meals. And after getting my heartbroken in a million pieces, I ballooned up to my all time highest weight of 382 pounds. 

And I do have to say that being an obese African American homosexual man, in Los Angeles of all places, is quite the daunting occupation to have. We're the platypuses of the community, an odd conglomeration of different images patchworked together to reflect different parts of ourselves that we have been fighting against tooth and nail ever since we were kids and learned the meaning of the word "fat". To some I represent the pure depression and sloth that fed many a Hollywood serial killer, to others I represent the safe, kind and intelligent momma's boy who has to pay a prostitute and/or bathhouse in order to get laid. And to others I'm the uncouth ghetto boy whose major thrusts involve fried chicken, marijuana and cartoons. I represent a litany of negative connotations that this city has deemed upon people who don't look a certain way and unfortunately, this city's digestive system (particularly the Black Gay Community's) is designed to evacuate people like myself. And if you don't have some semblance of self here, you're going to get shit out… or go crazy from all the shit that people will dump on you.

The myth is that, once you get to some particular material place in your life, all will be fine with the world. Once you make this much money, once you have this car, once you have this condo, once you date this person and for me it was once I weigh this much, nirvana will be near. But one of my group leaders asked me one of the most simple and profound questions I've ever been asked… "And then what?" So after I'm able to fit into a size 32 jeans… then what do I do. I've always thought about "riding into the sunset", I never thought about "the day after". 

One of the mottos my group leader pines on about which I think is trite as all hell but it's pretty true, is that "Weight loss isn't a result, it's a journey" and the same can be said about life. It shouldn't be an ongoing accumulation of things in which, once you have them you'll be happy, the happy comes living your day to day life. I remember once dating this guy (the one who broke my heart in a million pieces) who figured that once he made enough money and got back into shape and I published a book (and maybe did something with my hair) then maybe we would be happy. I remember telling him that… this is it, this is the relationship… this is supposed to be the good part. 

I always figured that once I lost some weight that I would be happy but that's just not true. I had to get happy first… or at least a true desire to be, the weight loss just helps that. Truth be told, I don't particularly want to be thinner more so than I want to feel good, I want to be good, I want to do good. I want to enjoy the time I spend with my friends and family and not be concerned with whatever bullshit reindeer game that might be going on or concerned that I'm not wearing the latest clothes or have the flashiest car or that I don't have the best body. I honestly believe that there are some guys and gals out there who are 382 pounds or more that are perfectly comfortable in their skin and to them I honestly say God bless you, because that's what it's all about. For me, I can tell you that I wasn't. I was just extremely self conscious, self depreciating and a bit defensive, traits that haven't particularly gone away… but I'm definitely handling it a lot better and that is just as important if not even more so than the actual weight loss. The thing is… if you're an asshole at 435 pounds, you're going to be an asshole at 155 pounds. Weight loss might change the way you appear, but if you're still attacking the world in the same passive aggressive, heavy handed, shoddy way you were beforehand, you're still going to be unfulfilled.

Needless to say, the relationship between me and that guy did not workout… though I started to… three to five times a week at Bally's Fitness. It's a mind numbingly slow process potholed with setbacks, plateaus and a few failures but at the end of the day I feel better and that's what really matters. Don't get me wrong, I totally dig the fact that I can buy clothes that don't have silhouettes of animals in place of their size label, but I was just ecstatic when during my last trip to San Francisco I was able to walk from Ashbury and Haight to the Castro district with one of my best friends without hacking up a lung or passing out from exhaustion.

Another myth that a good friend who also had experienced a major weight loss told me was that as I become more fit, the dating world will reveal a higher level of men of which to choose… which I just think is bullshit. I think it's going to be the same sons of bitches that have always been out there, I'm just going to have a harder time sifting through the mulch. I liken it to a very fair skinned Biracial girl who dates a white guy, they have a beautiful relationship and really dig each other then six months down line the guy makes some disparaging remark against African Americans, maybe even spouting off that he doesn't like them. If the girl were dark skinned, the both of them would have known from the get go where each other stood. Without that filter of skin color, the Biracial girl could conceivably date a member of the Aryan Nation. The same goes with weight. Even though I have lost a great deal of weight, I am still quite the bulky 242 pounds, far from being mistaken as anorexic, and right now I can tell within the first five seconds of meeting someone where their intentions lie as far as dating and/or associating with someone who isn't as pretty as they are. I imagine that the closer I get to my goal weight and getting something that at least resembles a six pack, that filter will slowly fade. At a healthy weight, I could conceivably date some pompous asshole whose main thrust in life is keeping his waistline, IQ and age under 30. The dating world might reveal more men in which to choose… I just doubt if they will be of a "higher level." I think that there will be a higher percentage of physically active assholes thrown in the mix.

It's been my experience that a lot of information out there in regards to weight loss, body imaging, cosmetics and such are all marketing based smoke blown up our collective asses. Every time I see a billboard for the lap band surgery nowadays or an infomercial about some product that promises that you can lose 20 pounds in 20 days or even a fast food commercial that touts the bliss in a deep quadruple fried barbequed bacon burger dog pizza I can't help but roll my eyes at this crazy capitalistic system of ours that tries with Orwellian proportions to make the rich get richer while the poor get poorer by making us feel even more shitty about ourselves, these carrots dangling in front our noses promising the fulfillment of all nirvana once you acquire some waistline, fade cream, hair cut, jean, house, car, burger… which in reality never happens.

You know that old saying "Give a man a fish he'll eat for a day, teach him how to fish and he'll eat forever"? Well that's basically been the most important thing I have got out of Weight Watchers and it has slowly become the lynch pin to my virility nowadays. Weight Watchers isn't trying to sell you prepackaged products that promise good health, they're giving you information on how to obtain good health on your own. They're not giving you fish, they're teaching you how to fish, and from there I just began to look at the world more holistically. If you give me a million dollars, and a car, and a beautiful house, will I get an adrenaline rush and feel happy beyond my comprehension? Fuck yeah! But then there's that question again, "And then what?" What about next year or five years from now, what about after I pay insurance, taxes and utilities on the house, insurance and maintenance on the car, after the big screen television, the trips to New Zealand, the shoes… where did my life go? Wasn't I trying to get healthy and watch my weight before I started ditching my Lean Cuisines for the deep fried quadruple barbequed bacon burger dog pizzas that I can now afford in abundance? Wasn't I trying to increase my writing skills so I can become a better writer, help people, help myself… find God? And the what fuck… wasn't I hanging out with my friends, trying to settle down with somebody who wasn't some pompous asshole whose main thrust in life is keeping his waistline, IQ and age under 30? Giving me the fish of house, car and money would keep me happy for a minute, but learning how to be happy on my own is one of the greatest gifts of life.

When people who I haven't seen a really long time see me nowadays, usually the first thing they say is, "Wow, you lost a lot of weight, you must be happier." I try not to come off as unappreciative but the optimistic truth of the matter is, I'm about the same, I just lost a little weight… but I'm getting there.