A Bear's Surprise

Something that should have clued me in to what was happening was my waistline. It was right after I got back from (eep) Vermont (which is NOT a bathhouse) that I realized I was hiking up my jeans nearly constantly. Walking the dogs, standing up from the couch, just doing anything, I was hiking-up my pants.

This disturbed me quite a lot because I was just on the verge of having to shop at The Big & Tall stores. Finding anything in my size was difficult as it is so moving-up a size would push me out of the regular stores right away. I hated the idea of having to go to the Big & Tall store. The clothing wasn't great and while I can understand basketball players shopping in one, I wasn't a basketball player.

I was just plain fat.

In my late teens I started becoming a jock of sorts because my best friends in school were jocks and I wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. I started lifting, running, playing squash (I know, mighty white of me), and generally getting myself into great shape. Now you'd think that getting into shape would be a great way to improve my mood and morale. Nobody doesn't work out and not feel better, right?

No Jason, just you.

Truth was that as hot as I looked (and I was), even managing to sport a nice bulge in my rugby shorts, I truly didn't feel any better about myself. My dick was still the same size it ever was and the summer after high school my best friend and I got into an argument and he outright dumped me. The effect was devastating. I stopped working out entirely and just sat around watching TV wondering what I had done to piss him off so badly. I wouldn't get an answer to that for another 20 years.

So in the mean time, being friendless and having no prospect of meeting anyone, I ate. Eating was grand because I love to cook and what's more, I'm a good cook. Some people find they eat more when they're depressed, others don't eat at all. I'm definitely the former. My reasoning was that I may as well have some compensation for being a reject so why not pleasure myself with other things ranging from nice clothes to good food. So I ate and shopped like a good little faggot. What genuinely surprised me was how quickly I gained weight. I went from 165 to 190 almost overnight and then to 210 the next time I bothered to look. My second psych hospitalization only made things worse as all I could do was sit around the hospital and in less than a month I put on 20 lbs. After that I just kept eating Blimpie or Subway or the worst Chinese food imaginable and managed to get to 265 lbs. I had a 46" waist on a 5' 11" frame. My blood pressure was at prehypertensive levels. Losing my job last year didn't help matters. i started cooking for myself much more frequently and snacking on whatever i felt like buying.

So when I realized I had stretched out my jeans to the point they wouldn't stay up, I was a bit horrified. Wasn't I getting at least some exercise walking the dogs? I almost never ate beef or fast food of any kind. I was cooking healthy stir frys, eating organic snacks, do they count? Yeah I was eating until I was stuffed but at least it was good food!

I went to Kohl's because they had a good selection and it wasn't far from the dreaded Big & Tall shop where I, a portly gentleman, could shop. My hope was that Kohl's would have something in a 48" waist with 30" inseam (yeah...). Finding one pair but with the wrong inseam, I figured I could always get the legs taken up by a seamstress. I took them into the changing room and tried them on. No go. They wouldn't stay on at all. WTF? How could they be too big? I checked the label and then thought that some Chinese sewer had put on the wrong label, but they did seem bigger than the 46s I was wearing. So I went and got another pair of 46s to try those. They didn't fit either.

They were too big.

Huh wha?? On a lark I went over to the rack and pulled down a pair of 44s. They were also too big but not by much. I must be dreaming. Went over and got a pair of 42s.

They fit just right.

In fact they fit SO right that they were neither tight in any way nor loose. These were all Dickies so I thought maybe their sizing was way off and I went and got a pair of Wranglers.

They too, fit just right.

Had I actually lost weight? How much did I lose? My jeans hadn't stretched, I had shrunk! I bought the Dickies and headed home wondering if there was a battery in my scale. Right around 220 I had abandoned the thing to an unused corner of the bathroom so it could taunt me every time I went to brush my teeth or take a dump. This time I pulled it out, dusted it off (really!), and stood on the thing. After a zillion different numbers the thing started blinking: 235 235 235. Somehow I had dropped 30lbs.

Go me!

I checked myself out in the mirror for the first time in a long time. Ordinarily I avoid mirrors like a vampire but this time I really gazed at myself. Yeah I was still fat but not as fat as I used to be. I could actually see that I was thinner. So if I was, why hadn't anybody said anything? Maybe it was my fat jeans? Maybe it was my generally slovenly fat person way of wearing clothes?

Digging through my old clothes which every fat person keeps for the day they get thin again, I pulled out a few shirts and found two pairs of Dockers of size 42. They fit just as they had years ago. Yaay! Free clothes! Just the thing for the unemployed. I checked my cock too. Did it look any bigger? No. Sadly not. But it was easier to grasp for a full-fisted jack now that I think of it, so that's at least some progress. Whether it was weight loss or PE I'm not sure. Either way, I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Since that discovery I'm down another 5lbs and consciously working to lose weight. I do have more energy, more desire to do things, and I feel better about myself. One more size down and I'll be at 40 and then 38. I'm hoping for 36, possibly 34, which would be back at my teen waist size when I was running cross-country.

I could be human again, a bear no more.