Doctor Says I’m Fat: Day 1, 248.7 lbs

David Murphy
Aug 8, 2017 · 3 min read

As an adolescent, I was very skinny. Almost too skinny; count my vertebrae when I bent over skinny. I used to be able wrap my hand completely around my forearms. I played a bunch of hockey, got in better shape, but was still a bit trim. Then, I stopped exercising of any kind, drank too much beer and started eating like a goat with low self esteem. So, now I’m overweight.

A few years ago I went to the doctor because I was having stomach problems. The doctor was a young guy, five o'clock shadow that was immaculately and likely purposefully grown. He wore Chuck Taylor’s that had The Clash on them.

After some tests, he comes back and says, “You’re fat.”

“I’m fat? I mean I’ve put on some weight, but I wouldn’t say I’m ‘fat’.”

“Nope, you’re fat. I figured you’d appreciate me putting it bluntly. Your stomach problems are because you eat like a cartoon character. Have you ever stuck a whole chicken leg in your mouth and pulled out a bare bone? I bet you have.”

“Whether I have or haven’t is none of…”

“You eat like a third grader with rich parents and a lazy nanny.”

“Doctor, this is wildly inappropriate.”

“Anyway, be less fat and you’ll have a better stomach.”

I didn’t listen.

Last year, I had a mental breakdown. You can search my name if you’re interested in all of that. I met with my mental health advocate, a beautiful woman with seventeen freckles under her eyes that I’ve counted so as to not get lost in her baby blues and not hear what she’s saying.

“You know exercise is a good way to combat your issues,” she said.

“Yeah, probably. Doctor says I’m fat. I mean he did a while back and I’m fatter now. He was kinda rude about it. I mean, am I fat?”

“Well, I mean…” she paused politely, “Yeah. Also, your blood pressure is high. Just like, walk around your block once a day. But you should also lose some weight and stop drinking beer like a depressed Andre the Giant.”

I didn’t.

Finally, after a false start or two, I pulled the trigger and I’m going to document it to keep me honest. I’m going to go to the gym daily. I’m going to jot down some thoughts to keep me honest. I’m going to stop eating like the 45th president of the United States who we could say a lot of things about, but a big one is he eats like shit and is very fat.

Here’s the thing, and I hate to admit it, but health was almost secondary to why I’m trying to be better. The big one turning point was none of my clothes fit. Every pair of pants is too tight in the thigh. All of my shirts fit around my love handles with the sleek design of one of those liquid ice packs wadded up in the back of the freezer the froze all lumpy and gnarled. Pictured above is what happens when I remove my socks. Socks squeeze my ankles with the gentleness of Lennie Small.

I’m going to lose weight, I’m going to get healthier, I’m going to lower my blood pressure, I’m going to fix my brain a bit and, most importantly, I’m going to fit back into this awesome Kenny Rogers t-shirt I have. Because that shirt rules.

Anyway, let’s be less fat and write some stuff.

Typed From The Couch

The Blog of Someone Too Stubborn For Actual Therapy

    David Murphy

    Written by

    I write about me, mainly, and sometimes others. The smartest dumbass Jestin Haugh knows.

    Typed From The Couch

    The Blog of Someone Too Stubborn For Actual Therapy

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