The Fat Guys Club: Proud Member for 27 Years

I am a child of my generation; the generation of fast food and mass consumption of media including television, the internet, and social networking sites. I am a proud member of Generation Y with its Starbucks cup in hand I update my Facebook Status on my mobile phone. I am also a proud member of “The Fat Guys Club.” I discovered the “Fat Guys Club,” during my graduate education. No, it was not an extracurricular organization fighting for the rights of the underprivileged plump coed; such as larger desks that accommodate full figured freshman (seriously something they might want to look into). It was merely an episode of “Family Guy.” Yes, that show with the king of all Fat Guys; Peter Griffin.


Peter Griffin, the beloved hapless father figure of Seth McFarland’s cult classic turned ratings rock star, is, perhaps, the best example of the “Fat Guys Club” culture that Americans have embraced. In the episode Peter has no idea that he is, indeed, a Fat Guy. In fact, he is in great shock when he learns the truth turning to his wife asking if she knew he was a, “Fat Guy.” In order to deal with this knowledge Peter bans together with other Fat Guys to start the “Fat Guys Club.” In a rather humorous scene we see Peter and the members of the “Fat Guys Club” crowding into the Griffin’s living-room for their first meeting; all oblivious to what they look like but blissfully happy in their new found brotherhood.

As I look back at myself watching that episode and laughing at the silly plot line I had no idea that, like Peter, I was completely unaware that I too was a member of the “Fat Guys Club.” After all I weight nearly 300 pounds and was not 30 (not that weighing 300 pounds at any age is particularly healthy). I stress my age, because it is indicative of my culture, my development into a Fat Guy.

I use Fat Guy to describe the part of me that is so strongly entrenched in who I am as someone that is overweight and struggling to lose weight for my health. Who is this Fat Guy? This Fat Guy is that voice in my head that wants to have a bowl of ice cream at 8 o’clock at night. It’s the laziness I feel after work, when I should be working out or going for a walk and all I want to do is sit on the couch playing on Facebook or watching television. It’s the hand that dials for a pizza rather than chopping up veggies for a nice salad for dinner. It’s the pair of eyes that doesn’t see the rolls protruding from the tight 2XL t-shirt that I am wearing. It is that inner part of me that does not, will not, see that I am fat, yet does everything to keep me there. It’s my behaviors that are endangering my health.

Where did those behaviors come from? As I stated in the previous post; I come from a fat family. Nearly every member of my family is overweight or engages in Fat Guy behavior. Even my brother, who weighs 170 and is 6’1” engages in Fat Guy behaviors; not exercising and eating deep fried goodness, salty snacks, and indulging in his sweet tooth with ho’s ho’s and sweet tarts (and if they mention of those food items made you go “mmmm” you maybe a fat guy). His waste line may not announce that he is a Fat Guy; however, the diabetes, high cholesterol, and high blood pressure awaiting his future self; if continuing these habits, will certify him as an official member of the “Fat Guys Club.”

We come to our Fat Guy habits rather honestly. We were raised by Fat Guys, who taught us the language and customs of their culture. Here are some of the lessons I learned in Fat Guys Academy (aka my childhood).

Finish Your Plate: I think we have all heard that statement during our childhood. Even when I was full I was told to finish my plate, especially if I wanted the prize of desert. To this day I still feel the compulsion to finish my plate, even when my stomach is screaming out, “STOP!” My mother would fill up one of her big plates with all the fixings on the dinner table; always large helpings. I would sit there ‘til I finished eating. This conditioning took hold and is something I still struggle with today.

“Cheer up, let’s get an ice cream”: The number one way to cheer up any tearful toddler is through the bribery of ice cream. In fact I can testify that it will work for most adult women! Dangle a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby in front of me and you have a happy camper for the next hour. I remember food being the ultimate soother of any depressive state. I have a vivid member of breaking my two toes at the age of five and getting hit by a baseball at a softball game all in the same day. It was not a good day. My dad, trying to cheer me up, got me a chocolate bar from the emergency room vending machine; not it was a Mr. Goodbar (Chocolate with Nuts is the best way to my heart). Nineteen years later my mother is driving me home from the emergency room after I fell in the garage spraining my foot and drives thru McDonalds so I could get some nuggets to cheer me up after dealing with the pain and chaos of the emergency room. From an early age I learned that food would help me feel better; even for a fleeting moment. That instant gratification would wipe away the tears from physical or emotional pain. It is why so many women gain weight after a break up or we grain weight during a stressful time in our lives; food equals happiness. The sweet tastes stir something deep inside us taking us to a place were everything is sweet. Also, there is scientific proof that certain foods release hormones in our bodies that simulate happiness and other emotions; aiding in our craving of those foods in order to maintain that mental state. That’s why many individuals with mood disorders such as depression and anxiety crave foods high in sugar and fat.

“I put Pepsi in her bottle and sat her in front of the television”: This was actually parenting advice my mother gave to my sister-in-law when discussing my nephew. I could see my sister-in-law’s eyes nearly jump out of her sockets at the notion of giving her child, not even twelve months, soda. As I think about it this is where my soda addiction came from. I would drink as many as four sodas a day. In the morning I would drink a 20oz bottle and than have another for lunch; not to mention what I would pound away after coming home and eating dinner. Once again I came by this addiction honestly. It was something very common in my household; have a soda with dinner or lunch. In fact, my parents would bring the 24 pack of soda from the store with different flavors; orange, root beer, grape, cola, and ginger ale, just for my brother and myself. We would divide up our soda spoils, each claimer victor of their favorite flavor!

TGIF on ABC: Much of the bonding done with my family was centered on the television. We were a sedentary people; as are most Fat Guy Clans. Besides the rigorous sport of channel surfing, we did little outdoor activities. We even had a television in our trailer, when we went camping. As a child the most common phrase was, “Go upstairs and watch TV.” It became a running joke in my family; even today. This doesn’t mean I didn’t ride bikes, swim, or play games outside. I did that. However, much of the family bonding was done while sitting around the television at night. A lot of this had to do with my family having to work. My mother and grandma worked nights at a local factory, my father (before he left when I was 15) worked all day construction, and my grandfather drove truck. They worked hard. They were tired. The last thing anyone wants to do after a long day is run around with two children. It was more relaxing to sit together and watch “Full House” or “Family Matters” on TGIF (classic for all my children of the 80’s/early 90’s). Although, running around with us may have been a better choice; helping both their and our health.

I don’t recap these lessons to lay blame on my family. They came to their behaviors honestly. Of course, once I understand how I became Fat I must then undergo a new lesson; become un-fat. For clarification when I use the phrase to become un-fat, I don’t mean being skinny. I mean being healthy. I mean breaking those thought and behavior patterns indicative of my Fat Guy Culture. So, here I go!  The first step is resigning my membership in the "Fat Guys Club."  It was, perhaps, the hardest thing to do, after twenty seven years of membership I have spent the last eleven months out of the club.  Although, every now and then I slip in with the secret handshake...etc.  All of which I will share with you on this journey.