And it was awesome.

Here's the thing: when you slowly get fat over the years, you never really see yourself as a fat person. You see fat people as "other people who are just really fat" and you always think, "Yeah, I've packed on a few pounds over the years, but at least I'm not a fat person." You see fat people as a collective group of people that have their own culture and problems. You see yourself as one of the skinny people; especially when you used to be in good shape, really hot, and used to **** like a porn star.

It sort of sneaks up on you; you look at a picture of yourself and get startled for a second; you try to do something involving physical effort and you get out of breath really fast or your legs start to burn immediately, or maybe you hear the occasional friendly jab about your weight. Sometimes it's a well-meaning friend, sometimes it's your parents, or maybe even a remote acquaintance. You laugh along with them and try to shrug it off.

For me it was all of the above and then some. I went to Chicago to hang out with the IC crew and realized how horribly out of shape I had gotten when we spent the day walking around Navy Pier. I was holding the whole group back. Stairs were a major issue. I was ashamed but I was also kinda scared; had it really gotten this bad? Then I went to Las Vegas to cover CES 2009 with my friends and co-workers. After the first day it got easier, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't in agony walking around that much. Nobody else seemed to be having any issues at all; was it really because I was that out of shape?

I always tried to convince myself that I wasn't gaining any weight. At every point along the journey I told myself "I've maintained this weight for years, at least I'm not gaining" while my pant size continued to increase.

I've not been in complete denial; I've made various failed weight loss efforts throughout the years. It's been hard to watch as many of my friends have gotten motivated and gotten in shape while I continued to languish, but nothing ever seemed to be able to spark the magic neuron that makes people get so sick with themselves that they change their lifestyle.

I had a pretty bad night about a week ago. I wanted to wear something nicer, and went to put on a pair of khaki pants that I just wore in January, and I couldn't button them. That was a serious eye opener. I had to go out at midnight to Meijer and buy the largest pair of pants I've ever owned. If that doesn't send a clear signal, I don't know what does.

My wife left me for a another man in 2005. I've seen pictures of him. He was in much better shape than me. I'd be a fool to think that my weight wasn't a factor in her decision to leave me. We were married for almost ten years and have two kids together, so it can't have been the only thing, but I'm sure it was a significant factor.

I've been single since then. It took about three years for me to get over it, and believe me I was in a deep depression for those three years. I now refer to them as the "lost years". I truly feel like that part of my life was basically wasted. During that time, I gained more weight, and passed the landmark age of 30. I thought to myself, "I am still young. My early 30s should be the prime of my life; I should be out there dating, having fun, taking what I've learned along the way, and being a rockstar." My kids are a bit older now, I have a great deal of freedom, and I've learned a great deal about life. I am the type of person that wants desperately to share this with others. I absolutely hate being alone.

But alone I am. I have made a lot of efforts to try to get a date. I'm quite a social butterfly, I network a lot, I get out and go to events with like-minded people. I've met some awesome girls along the way. It's not like I'm sitting in my house doing nothing and not meeting anyone. I have definitely made some efforts. I have even tried online dating with absolutely no success whatsoever. I tried to blame various things, tried to figure out what was wrong, and even tried to ask people: What is wrong with me?

Nobody has the courage to say it to my face: I'm fat.

Even I didn't have the courage to say it. I'd like to write off a portion of society and say "People are shallow. A good person should be able to see past that." but that would be foolish and naive. This is not a great world, people ARE shallow, and looks are very important; not only on a superficial level, but for what fatness represents. Fatness can mean many things; poor health, a lazy lifestyle, emotional issues, bad genetics, or a bad diet. We're animals; of course we're naturally repelled by these marks of un-health. Why would you want to mate with someone displaying these traits?

I am so, so tired of being alone. I am so, so tired of getting my hopes up that one of the many women that I've been attracted to or made efforts at dating over this last year will finally see past my fat body. I am so, so tired of watching as those same girls become attracted to other (in shape) men or start dating someone else. I am flat out sick of being nothing more than a friend.

I want to **** like a porn star again. If I dropped about a hundred pounds, I would be straight up hot. I am only 32 years old. I should be surrounded by sexy women, doing sexy things, and living a sexy lifestyle. Nobody sees me that way except for myself; clearly something has to change. People think I'm deluded. They giggle and snicker.

The only way I can be having the sex and relationship I want is to lose weight. That's it. That's the one thing that is holding me back.

This is not going to be one of those "rah rah I can do it!" motivational things. I just needed to get this out so I can see it for myself in black and white. I will probably fail at this like I have done so many times before. Don't count on me, don't get your hopes up, and don't tell me you believe in me and I can do it. I'll probably just let you down; more importantly I'll just let myself down again.

I took a late night walk tonight. It was agonizing. I walked for a mile, and actually jogged for 1/8th of it. Walking/jogging at one in the morning solves a few problems; it's cool so I'm not sweating like a pig, I'm alone so I don't have to be embarrassed about my wheezing, and it's dark so strangers don't have to see me flopping around like an asshole. I'll spare the details, but trust me when I say the jogging was not a pretty sight.


(I'm not actually this fat. That's the good news)

I am in so much goddamned pain right now. **** my life.

See you tomorrow night.