In the years of my youth, outstanding skinny genes helped me stay delicately fit, tight and ripe despite drinking heavily, eating fast food and leading an overall sedentary lifestyle. I maintained a weight of 150 pounds from high school through junior year of college. People often commented, "Get some meat on your bones," "Eat up son" and "Stop staring at my tits!" Further, I earned nicknames such as "Slim" (high school lacrosse team), "Beeker" (Pumptown) and "Stinkynuts" (Wesleyan female student body). It's debatable whether my six-pack was muscle or ribcage, but I flaunted it nonetheless. Most importantly, however, was that I felt confident with my body image. Ladies, if reading at work, please take a minute, grab a towel and put it on your chair, because you are about to get wet...
I recall one day working out at the gym, staring at my golden brown body glistening with sweat as my biceps flexed (are you wet yet?). I was courting a particular hipster girl at the time, and thought to myself, "Tonight I plant seed," "Plow field" and numerous other farming metaphors that describe sex. I was super-confident; nothing short of an army of cockblocking (cockblaking?!) lesbians would stop me. Chicks can sense natural confidence, and they eat that shit up. Needless to say, later that night I gently whispered in her ear, "Should I get a condom?" That move carefully executed is nearly flawless. It worked.
That night was one among many nights which I hope to soon chronicle in a collection of short stories, The Sexual Liberation of Blake. To get to the point - I was kinda hunky. Last week I showed some girl friends pictures of me in college and I immediately needed to mop my floor and let them borrow mesh shorts (because they were...WET...get it?!). Looking back at Blake circa 2004, I think to myself, "How on earth could any woman refuse me?"
But then it all came to a tragic and rapid halt. Senior year I began writing an extensive thesis. I studied for about five hours a day in a small carrel consuming brain food - gummy bears, bagel chips, red bulls, popcorn, etc. I quickly gained weight. The interesting thing is that I had no idea it was happening. I only came to the realization thanks to LL Bean. Let me explain. In October 2004 I was in full thesis mode and ordered a pair of LL Bean flannel-lined khakis for the winter. They shortly arrived just as I ordered, size 32 waist, but did not fit. "LL Bean pants must run a size small," I reasoned. I sent them back for a size 33, which I received about a month later. Unbeknownst to me, at this time my unprecedented weight gain was in full force. The new pants arrived and much to my surprise, they also ran small. I sent them back for a size 34, which I received in early December. Finally, they fit.
Being the nice friend I am, I cautioned my roommate Dan to order LL Bean pants two sizes larger than normally. He was amazed at my ignorance. He simply stated, "Blake, you've gained a ton of weight. Look at you, your gut is sticking out." I looked down and was shocked at what I saw, but more shocked at what I didn't see - my penis. I stepped on a scale in his room and weighed in at 180 pounds; 30 heavier than my standard weight of 150. To summarize, 30 pounds in three months. 30 fucking pounds! How I managed to overlook this remains a mystery.
The evolution of this weight gain is exhibited via Facebook pictures. My friend Tim sums up this phenomenom best - "Facebook: An exhaustive chronicle of the varying fatness of my face."
This all being said, at least I'm not a fat chick.
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