The Wall

by JeremySpoke under Single Life

Though I have lost a considerable amount of weight over the last several months and am of average weight for my equally average height, my body still thinks that I am a fat man.

By that, I mean it is still curvy in all the wrong places. I inexplicably still have man-boobs. When I was at my heaviest, I also noticed that my stomach made a weird-shaped bulge right over my waist. My waist was regular sized, and my stomach was regular sized (for a ten-foot-tall man). It wasn’t just a fat man’s bulge. It is difficult to explain without photos, but I am not going to post a photo because you are so nice and innocent and there’s no reason for me to scar strangers for life. Also, I never took a picture of myself as a fat man. That was one decision I will take to my grave as the smartest thing I have or will have ever done.

Anyway, my body doesn’t know I’ve lost any weight at all. I can’t jog for more than three feet. I still get winded and sweaty whenever I eat more than a rice cake. Okay I’ve never eaten a rice cake. They have no smell, and I am suspicious of anything lacking in aroma. This is also why I never trusted scented candles.

Most importantly, though, that awkward bulge on my stomach is still there. I can’t really explain why, nor have I seen it on another person. I’m sure that if I actually went to the gym, I could work it off somehow, but I refuse to go. I’ve lost 74 pounds without having to exercise and am I damn sure not about to start now. Having said that, my weird stomach bulge remains. Thank goodness for T-shirts. My normal-sized hand would not be big enough to cover my stomach-sized stomach.

However, through the help of shirts, I have been able to sustain more dates than I was able to half a year ago. I now know more than ever that if a girl doesn’t like me, it’s now slightly more likely that she doesn’t like my personality. That is strangely comforting.

Not Dying vs. Having Money

by JeremySpoke under Single Life

Though I am a good four months into my diet, it has taken a significant toll on the amount of money I have to support a lifestyle that, although has made me thinner, is also slowly killing me inside with every horrible, dry, disgusting bite that I take of one of my two daily Subway® sandwiches.

There is always a price one has to pay for getting thinner. For me, however, there are two prices. First, there is the monetary price. Not only do I have to buy two Subway® sandwiches per day, but I have to buy three independent Nutri-Grain® bars instead of buying them by the box in order to make sure I don’t get up in the middle of a hunger-induced dream and eat an entire box of bars at once. This leaves me with only a little spending money. The second price is emotional. Right now, if I had a choice between being fat with extra money or being thin with no extra money, I would do neither and kill myself. Both options sound like the worst possible outcome of a life that started with so much promise.

However, I am happy to report that women like me, in general, slightly more than they did half a year ago. The smiles I get last almost a second longer. Fewer people stop chatting with me for no reason on JDate® chat. I get more emoticons and exclamation points than ever before.

Now, I find myself sitting in my boxers in a dark room at four in the morning, and the only thing on my mind is how to find the shortest way to the kitchen in the faint hope that there is a drop of expired orange juice left. This isn’t a way to live. Why can’t I eat all the time and be thin and happy like people on television? Tell me, Regis Philbin! Tell me!

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