Discuss fat? Heck yeah! Part 1

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I was the sort of baby whose cheeks you wanted to pinch--all 4 cheeks--including the 2 on the butt. I was the kid who had"--such a handsome face if only he would lose weight." At 16 I was in the hospital due to an overdose of diet pills--hey, I rationalized that since I lost 7 pounds by taking a pill a day I would lose 14 pounds if I took 2 pills a day and so on--didn't work! You want the fat jokes? I know them all. You want the names fat boys, teens, men are called? I had them all thrown at me. (An aside--strangely enough I never 'suffered' for lack of sex--there are many, many chubby chasers out there!) The only time in the first 30 years of my life that I was thinner was when I was in the USMC for 2 years--not thin, but thinner. With the logic of the Corps why not put a fat kid to work in the kitchen? They did. I came out of the Marines fatter than I went in. (I did lose about 20 pounds during boot camp--probably the only time I ever exercised.) You name the diet and I was/had been on it---grapefruit, ice cream, fasting, watermelon, all kinds of 1 food diets, etc., and some you can't even name or don't want to remember like the eel diet (don't ask!) After just losing a lover, in March of 1967 I had gone out after work (Hey, what could be a better job than being a waiter whose pay consisted of all the food he could eat), got drunk, stopped at The Stage Deli and had a 'Hymie's Special' (a triple decker 3 meat sandwich with cole slaw and Russian dressing on it--serves 2 with a side of French fries), stopped at a bar to have a nightcap and 3 drinks later went next door to a pizza parlor and got a large, everything on it, to go pizza. It was 1 o'clock in the morning. I was drunk. I was nauseated. I hated myself. I couldn't commit suicide because I didn't know how or have the guts. (Pardon the pun.) I didn't have the nerve to slash my wrists. I didn't know how to get a gun and if I did I would probably botch it and wind up a vegetable. Couldn't overdose as I might screw that up, too. Hang myself? What in my apartment would hold me up? I ran out of the apartment and walked from 75th street to the Everod baths on 28th street. For the next few hours I participated in a debauchery of orgies only this time sex didn't give me any relief as it had done in the past. I walked out of the baths, into the morning's rising sun, tears running down my eyes, feeling hopeless, helpless and not knowing where to turn. (TO BE CONTINUED!)