An editor in a local newspaper stated that fat people are happier than other people. How does he know? Did he ever have to leave the top buttons of his shirt unfastened on account of his extra chins? Has the pressure from within against the waistband where the cell phone is located ever been so great in his case that he had to partially undress himself to make a call? Does he have to take the tailor’s word for it that his trousers need pressing? He does not. And that sort of a remark is only what might be expected from any person upward of seven feet tall and weighing about ninety-eight pounds with his heavy underwear on. I shall freely take his statements on the joys and ills of the thin. But when he undertakes to tell me that fat people are happier than thin people, it is only hearsay evidence with him and I decline to accept his statements unchallenged. He is going outside of his experience. He is, as you might say, no more than an innocent bystander. Whereas, I am a qualified authority.
I will admit that at one stage of my life, I regarded fleshiness as a desirable asset. The incident came about in this way. There was a circus showing in our town and a number of us proposed to attend it. It was one of those one-ring, one dollar circuses that used to go about over the country, and it is my present recollection that all of us had funds laid by sufficient to buy tickets; but if we could procure admission in the regular way we felt it would be a sinful waste of money to pay our way in.
With this idea in mind we went scouting round back of the main tent to a comparatively secluded spot, and there we found a place where the canvas side-wall lifted clear of the earth for a matter of four or five inches. We held an informal caucus to decide who should go first. The honor lay between two of us–between the present writer, who was reasonably skinny, and another boy, named Thompson, who was even skinnier. He won, as the saying is, on form. It was decided by practically a unanimous vote, he alone dissenting, that he should crawl under and see how the land lay inside. If everything was all right he would make it known by certain signals and we would then follow, one by one.
Two of us lifted the canvas very gently and this Thompson boy started to wriggle under. He was about halfway in when–zip!–like a flash he bodily vanished. He was gone, leaving only the marks where his toes had gouged the soil. Startled, we looked at one another. There was something peculiar about this. Here was a boy who had started into a circus tent in a highly cautious manner, and then finished the trip with undue and sudden reckless haste. It was more than peculiar–it bordered upon the uncanny. It was sinister. Without a word having been spoken we decided to go away from there.
Wearing expressions of intense unconcern and sterling innocence upon our young faces we did go away from there and drifted back in the general direction of the main entrance. We arrived just in time to meet our young friend coming out. He came hurriedly, using his hands and his feet both, his feet for traveling and his hands for rubbing purposes. Immediately behind him was a large, coarse man using language that stamped him as a man who had outgrown the spirit of youth and was preeminently out of touch with the ideals and aims of boyhood.
At that period it seemed to me and to the Thompson boy, who was moved to speak feelingly on the subject, and in fact to all of us, that excessive slimness might have its drawbacks. Since that time several of us have had occasion to change our minds. With the passage of years we have fleshed out, and now we know better. The last time I saw the Thompson boy he was known as Excess-Baggage Thompson. His figure in profile suggested a man carrying a roll-top desk in his arms and his face looked like a face that had refused to jell and was about to run down on his clothes. He spoke longingly of the days of his youth and wondered if the shape of his knees had changed much since the last time he saw them.
This thing of acquiring a tummy steals on one insidiously, like a thief in the night. You notice that you are plumping out a trifle and for the time being you feel a sort of small personal satisfaction in it. Your shirts fit you better. You love the slight strain upon the buttonholes. You admire the pleasant plunking sound suggestive of ripe watermelons when you pat yourself. Then a day comes when the autumn arrives and evening is at hand you take the dress-suit, which fit you so well, out of the closet where it has been hanging and undertake to back yourself into it. You are pained to learn that it is about three sizes too small. At first you are inclined to blame the suit for shrinking, but second thought convinces you that the fault lies elsewhere. It is you that have swollen, not the suit that has shrunk. The buttons that should adorn the front of the coat are now plainly visible from the rear.
You buy another dress-suit and next fall you have out-grown that one too. You pant like a lizard when you run to catch a car. You cross your legs and have to hold the crossed one on with both hands to keep your stomach from shoving it off in space. After a while you quit crossing them and are content with dawdling yourself on your own lap. You are fat! Dog-gone it–you are fat!
Of course you might diet in the same way that a woman diets. You know how a woman diets. She begins the day very resolutely, and if you are her husband you want to avoid irritating her or upsetting her, because hell hath no fury like a woman dieting. For breakfast she takes a swallow of coffee and half of a soda cracker. For luncheon she takes the other half of the cracker and leaves off the coffee. For dinner she orders everything on the menu except the date and the name of the proprietor. She does this in order to give her strength to go on with the treatment.
In summary here’s a fat man’s analysis of a fat man’s diet. What you eat is what you’ll wear. If you eat too many greasy foods, you’ll sweat grease. If you eat a lot of potatoes, you’ll look like Mr. Potato Head. Attending fast food restaurants means you will have fast fat accumulation. Drinking soda pop will kill you faster than cigarettes and if you have a soda and a cig five times a day to keep your energy up, you will die a slow death by consumption.
Diabetes for some is only a meal away. Foods do have a cumulative effect and then one day you can’t believe your eyes, you’ve gained 30 lbs. in three months, you’re short of breath and the breath you have is foul.
There is only one way to reverse this ever growing fat problem and that is to go on a totally raw diet for as long as it takes to reduce to a safe healthy weight. There’s a great video out on this entire subject at