Happy Thanksgiving! Oh, and you’re fat. I know this is difficult to hear. You’re not obese, you’re just fatter than you were in August. I know this strange to hear from a guy you’ve never met, writing for a site that gives you ten reasons boners rock, but I’m the only one who will tell you honestly and directly that you look awful. Not like girl wearing a french braid awful. Just awful, for YOU. Maybe when you and your mom swiped Tinder together and got no matches, she claimed you were handsome. Maybe she convinced you that you’re a “solid seven.” Well, then you’re currently at a “weak six.” However that math works out, please understand that you’re grosser than the last time you checked in with yourself on Labor Day. You haven’t washed your jeans in a month (and not because they “shrink in the wash”). You and your new girlfriend don’t look the same as when you met, you’ve just grown at the same rate. Wings are not the same as grilled chicken. Those stairs weren’t THAT tough. And everyone you’ve been texting with from that dating app was brutally disappointed when you met. Please understand that you’re fat and I’m doing you a huge favor. Consider this your moment to nervously sweat at the realization (because you’re fat but also because you’re anxious). You’re welcome. Because this isn’t how Thanksgiving usually works.
Nobody, not even you, was going to give you the fat message straight. You weren’t going to walk into your childhood bathroom, look yourself in the mirror, and say, “You’re fat,” then move on to the holiday. And you absolutely weren’t going to have a family member come up to you and plainly say, “You’ve looked better, you’ve looked worse, now isn’t the time, but you should take care of that.” Oh no, that would be too easy. That would be too sane. That’s not how holidays work. That’s not how family communication works. The fact that someone always says, “The diet starts tomorrow” at Thanksgiving, should be all the indication you need that everyone is out of their fucking mind when it comes to body image, health, and knowing the right time.
The message is coming in the form of subtle messages, digs, and passive aggression. The parent that says “That jacket looks tight” the day before the biggest eating day of the year. The uncle that says, “The food must be good at school” as you’re going in for seconds. The aunt that hasn’t eaten anything, talks about how there’s too much food, and has a back that looks like a triceratops and decides to touch your stomach as she asks if you’re full. All of those painful experiences will add up to one loud message that you’re fat and you’ll figure it all out around desert. Because getting fat is just like getting dumped, you’re always the last to find out.
And this news couldn’t come at a worse time. You think you’re going to stop eating and drinking in November? HA! The holidays have arrived and there’s no better time to drink and eat. Holiday parties, Christmas formals, whiskey on a cloudy Tuesday morning, and the Rumple Minze shots… OH THE RUMPLE MINZE!. That’s why all these subtle cracks from friends and family are all the more enraging. There isn’t a more insane time of year to give you shit. We are all doing our best. We’re doing arms and abs at the gym every day, eating whole wheat bread, walking the escalators. The diet won’t start tomorrow, or next week, or even next month. You’re not going to look at Uncle Bob and say, “Good point” and then spend the next football Sunday eating the carrots off of the wing platter. No, you’re going to drink the whiskey, eat the extra side of bacon, and cuddle up with that girlfriend you’ll have until April.
So, fuck it. That’s right, fuck it. You’re fat, I’m fat, your mom’s fat. Everyone is fat and it’s realistically not going to change until around March. That’s when the weather starts to change, you realize your girlfriend isn’t as fun as swiping right and you start a month of “acting weird,” and you get your shit together for a few weeks to deflate. A month later and you’re ready to stop wearing zip up hoodies. Parents, cousins, and friends are going to say something because there’s going to be at least one person that has a much bigger issue than the ten pounds you need to lose. They’re going to make their problem yours and your comeback won’t be seen in the same light as their dig. It’s tough to sell the family on “At least my wife didn’t cheat on me!” as a proper response to “Packing on the pounds.” So own it now. Get anxious while you read this on the toilet. Then stand up and attack the holidays the way Triceratops Aunt never could; Fat and happy..