COLUMN: It's Not True Till You Realize It

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By Tobin Barnes
My doctor once told me, “It’s tough for us guys in the Fat Boys Club to keep the weight off, isn’t it?”

I remember being offended. Speak for yourself there, Tubby.

I had always tried to think of myself as having an athletic physic…just maybe gone to seed a tad. After all, I’m the son of a former professional football player.

Ramp up the activity a skosh and eat one less deep-pan pizza a year, and I’m back to fit and trim anytime I want.

Fat Boys Club!

Is someone else in this room with you and me, Doc?

Of course, my dad ended up pretty hefty and that was soon after his football and Army days were over. And you couldn’t really call his brothers and sister svelte. Sometimes even “chubby” didn’t really fit the bill.

And, yes, when being honest with myself, I’ll have to admit I’ve certainly inherited his genetic tendencies toward instant weight gain. It doesn’t take much either.

A few days of neglect, and I’m hauling another pound around. Make it a week or two and I’ve got five extra on my body going that way when I’m going this way.

So I guess my doctor was right all those years ago. No doubt, I’m a dues-paying, member-in-good-standing of the Fat Boys Club International. Yes, it’s been a constant battle even though I used to think I was winning overall.

That is, until we got the Wii Fit about eight months ago. On my first weigh-in, my little Mii (the digital icon man that represents me) explosively transformed into a big Mii. Rotund might be the best description.

Whoasa!

Then the munchkin-like, diminutive but intrusive Wii Fit voice declared this about my weight: “That’s obese.”

Obese? I’m not obese.

Obese is the word used to describe those headless, unidentified whale bodies that waddle across the TV screen when they’re illustrating a news story on the fattening of America. Wii Fit must have its calculations screwed up. No self-respecting TV news reporter would use my headless body as a prime example of a shirt-stretching, super-size me, big gulper, would they?

Well, maybe not, but I had certainly gotten chubby. And the evidence was there whether I was willing to admit it or not.

One of the most telltale examples is a blown-up picture of a snapshot I’d placed on one of the bookshelves in my classroom. It was of me amongst some high school girls, given to me by them as a remembrance. I was touched at their thoughtfulness.

But one problem: In the photo I was taking up the space of two of them. When they gave it to me, I had gratefully told them I’d keep that picture forever. It haunts me still up there on the bookshelf.

Since last January, I’ve tried to increase the exercise and reduce the intake. I’ve been bicycling longer distances and taking grueling uphill walks, all the while eating like a pigeon rather than a vulture. I’ve been merciless—to my way of thinking anyway.

I’ve lost close to twenty pounds, but with all the sacrifice, it seems like I should instead weigh only twenty pounds. And even though the Wii munchkin voice doesn’t say I’m obese anymore, it does still say: “That’s overweight.”

So I’d like to lose more and hopefully keep it off.

But I know it’s kind of like Samuel Butler’s quote: “Friendships are like money, easier made than kept.”

Same thing with weight in a mixed metaphor kind of way: It’s easier to take it off than keep it off.

We’ll see.