I was a fat kid. I remember going in to get my blood sugar read at the age of 10 and having a doctor say, “You’re going to be diabetic. It’s just a matter of when.
” When you’re a little fat kid and you jump in the pool, you become aware that you’re different than everyone else. So we have this one thing that we can do when we go swimming to try to throw everyone off the scent and it’s ridiculous: We throw on a T-shirt and we think, “There, now no one will know that we’re fat.” Being fat defined so much of my life — from my experiences on airplanes to my romantic life, to my relationships with my friends and family.
Even after losing 200 pounds, it will always be etched into my soul and my DNA. You never stop being a fat kid. You are so acutely aware when you’re fat that every time you go to the doctor, it’s only going to be bad news.
And no matter what affliction you go into the doctor with, they’re going to also bring up your weight. I have this joke I tell on stage, but it’s based in reality: You could walk into a doctor’s office with a samurai sword sticking out of your torso and before the doctor gets to the sword, they’re going to say, “You really need to lose some weight.” The terrible thing about this, too, is the doctor is right.
I was at an unhealthy weight. I had an . For a long time, my blood sugar was unhealthy.
If I were drinking or doing heroin in the same way that I was eating, people would have had an intervention. But peo.
