Embracing the fat

Dear Oprah:

It was no secret you fell off the skinny wagon. I myself having attended too many AA meetings to mention, quit and decided never to go to rehab understand the struggle and comfort addiction can bring. We’re just human.

For the record, I was a really fat kid. I mean humpty dumpty fat. I mean I could’ve joined the Fat Boys rap group at age 9. My nickname was “Mikey will eat it!’ And I would eat it. Shit, I would eat three to four servings. My favorite thing as a child was a good buffet. I used to love buffets. Back in the day, it was 3.99 all you can eat. My sister and I would get dressed and stay there for like a day.

I admit weight starting falling off of me around middle school. I guess because my grandmother had the audacity to make me play a sport. I hated playing sports. I hated football, basketball, running or just having to sit on the bench. Yet, being on the team and being forced to practice did dramatically change my body. I learned that I was a great swimmer. I learned that I liked soccer more than I liked football or basketball. I also fell in love with tennis. Yet, I was never a good athlete. I never started. I often quit and made to go back. I never cared about wining first place. I guess that’s has been my calling in life. Quit when it gets too rough.

I believe some of us are good at some things. Some people love to be on a damn treadmill for hours. Some people love eating vegetables. I rather grab a bag of cookies and talk bad about those people. I used to think having a couple of shots of vodka and going to the gym was fun. I usually ended up passed out on the bicycle machine.

In college, I learned drugs and alcohol kept me thin. I’m not recommending crack, but it did work for Whitney. I mean, she hasn’t gained a pound since “Where did the crack go” back in the 1990s. Yet, I know if your business, you can’t show up high or drunk talking to child molesters like Michael Jackson or Suze Orman. What is she on?

I say embrace your fat. After my last sobering stunt, I gained twenty pounds. I forgot how good it felt to eat. It scared the shit out of me. I can’t eat. I’m gay. If I eat I will start to have to pay for sex. Fat people get no love in the gay fast love lifestyle.

Yet, I have decided to embrace my fat. I’ve embraced my round belly. It’s better than running from a drug house buck naked at seven in the morning chased by a deranged crack head. I’m not saying that has happened to me, but trust me I rather have the bag of potato chips.

I say embrace the fat. You’re fucking rich. Why starve when you can buy your own grocery store. You’re old. I thought getting old was all about letting yourself go. I hate those celebrities still trying to keep their teenage waistline at a hundred years old. I don’t need to have sex after forty. I had enough of it for several lifetimes in my twenties. There’s nothing new about it for me. All I need is porn and a good dildo. You have Gayle. She doesn’t seem to mind munching on your puffy VaJaJA.

I say since you will be leaving the Oprah show in two years, start a drinking habit. A good cocktail is a good replacement for a meal. I say start smoking cigarettes. A bad habit is always replaced with another bad habit. I say go out there and find what you want to replace food with. So many bad habits, so little time. Or just be fat. Fuck it. It's working for Tyra Banks.