But when you wake up fat, that's terrifying shit. You remember being in reasonable shape and then one day you look in the mirror and think "Son of a bitch. I got fat. Dammnit." Now, I obviously didn't get fat overnight. There wasn't some regret bowl of ice cream that I just went way too overboard on with sprinkles and chocolate sauce and then, after finishing the bowl I just grabbed the whole fucking tub and sat in front of the TV all night eating ice cream and watching The Notebook and then in the morning I got fat and cursed the damn ice cream. I assume I got fat over time, probably during a lengthy bout of depression, and didn't really realize until one day I got shortwinded vacuuming or some other menial task.
Now, when you get fat overnight, you refuse to go out and buy all new clothes that fit properly. You just buy a few to tide you over until you get back in shape. There's no point spending a bunch of unnecessary money on clothes that you aren't going to need in a few months.
The problem with this line of thinking is that you're not going get back in shape. You keep thinking you will, but its not ever going to happen.
First off, you can't just go and get a gym membership. I mean you might, but after a few embarrassing sessions of 12 sit-ups, 5 push-ups and half a chin-up, you're pride kicks in. Because, after all, the last time you did physical activity, you were in shape. You could do, I dunno, a fucking hundred sit-ups and 20 chin-ups and not even lose a breath. But now you can't do shit. And your pride comes into play, because you aren't familiar with these common fat man problems, and you just can't fucking do what you think you should, you get embarrassed and dejected and you end up just saying "Fuck it!" and quitting.
See, people that have been fat for a long time don't have this problem. If they enroll in a gym and go do 5 situps and a push-up its empowering because they've made the conscious decision to put down the Big Gulp, get up off the couch and take control of their lives. They've got a positive, can-do attitude and people applaud whatever minor achievement they can reach. These people are heroes. But a new fat guy that's let just let himself go?
"Pfftt...look at that fat fuck. I bet he can't even last 2 minutes on the treadmill. What a piece of shit!"
And I'd be like "Yeah..no...fuck...I wouldn't be able to. I'm just an out of shape, fat piece of shit."
So you quickly realize the gym just isn't an option. Because even if you can get past the initial hit to your pride of not being able to do what you once were able to, your competitive nature that helped keep you in shape back in the day is still there and you want to try and keep pace with the douche jock that goes to the gym so he can show off his biceps that compensate for his tiny penis to a bunch of shallow women. So you see him benching a shitload of weight and you don't want to pull up beside him and start benching an empty bar or whatever pathetic weight you've decided to start at. And so you overload the bar and completely throw out your back in two reps. Assuming you can even fucking left it in the first place.
After giving up on the gym experience, you decide "Maybe I should just fucking start jogging." I mean, jogging's bullshit, but it seems like the sort of exercise that can be performed in private without the judging eyes of others and you can go at your own pace and all that shit. If someone blows past you on the jogging path and you're huffing and puffing and sweating and going half a mile an hour you can always just say "Yeah... 24 miles and on my last one. Pushing hard to set a new personal best."
So you buy some runners and decide to take up jogging. But there's two major problems you quickly experience when jogging as a fat man: number one is that you now have an additional 50 lbs of weight on your frame then you used to and your knees and other joints really don't like the impact with all that extra weight. And you jog two blocks and your knees have a searing pain in them like some mobster henchman is sticking rusty knives into your joints, torturing you before he inevitably shoots you in the head and dumps your body off a bridge.
The second problem is that you've probably developed a big gut and possibly even tits and this fleshy material is flabby and jiggly. And when you start jogging it starts hitting a natural frequency and bouncing up and down with greater and greater amplitudes until the whole system is oscillating like Galloping Gertie, ready to implode upon itself.
The jogging plan ends quickly. Next you decide to go all Charles Atlas and just do sit-ups and push-ups and jumping jacks and lift barbells at home. But here's the problem with this plan: you don't have some dumbass jock working out beside you that you're secretly pushing yourself to try and keep pace with so you can proudly think to yourself "Yeah...look at that you cocksucking jock. A FAT man just kept pace with you. I bet that makes you and your tiny penis that you're currently trying to overcompensate for feel good." So you don't have that extra motivating factor. You do, like, 12 sit-ups, feel a slight discomfort and think that's enough sit-ups. And you do 5 push-ups and your arms start to burn a bit and you think that's good enough. Gotta go slow. Don't want to hurt myself. So after 1 month you're up to 15 situps, 8 push-ups and you've lost exactly 0 lbs.
After a 2nd month with zero return on investment you give up on that shit, too. And by this point you've been fat long enough that you've familiarized yourself with fat man problems, gotten used to being fat and eventually decide "Well...fuck it. I guess I'm just going to be fat." And so you continue on as a fat fuck, eating cheeseburgers and ice cream and watching A&E marathons until one day you have a heart attack.