edward fox’s reality

If you have a crappy computer or a shitty monitor, feel free to ignore this blog entry, as you won’t be able to appreciate the full awesomeness of the apparel I am about to present you with. If you do, and you’re not a broke ass, continue to enjoy this entry.

So I’m a fat, obese fuck. Oh, some of you think I’m exaggerating. I am being completely serious and medically accurate. I used to be at a BMI as low as 24.5, which is still borderline on being overweight (not to be confused with a BMI of >30, which is considered obese, and >35, which is extremely obese)… my BMI has shot up to ~31.5 within two and a half years, and that is sick, literally.

I know I take a lot of pictures that make me seem slimmer than I really am, and honestly, if you all thought I was fat at all in some of my other pictures, you guys were too stuck-up, even for me. I weighed 40-65 lbs. less in some of my older pictures, and I want to get down to that weight, and lower, way lower. I know that I will never be a twig– I don’t plan on wanting to be. I am not a femm; I am a straight-acting guy and I don’t need to slim down to fit in girl jeans. I want to look hawt, and to me, not wearing clothes meant for your gender (unless there’s some hawt shirt which could pass off as a guy’s shirt, too) is not attractive at all in my book. I feel sorry for your genitals, silly boys with tiny balls.

So I found inspiration to correct this health and emotional issue. That’s right — there’s not one minute of every day that I don’t think about my weight. I don’t understand how extremely overweight/obese people can feel comfortable and continue to eat unhealthy food. That said, I no longer eat fast food. I will eat out once a week or every other week, but that is an extreme reduction compared to how I used to eat. I used to eat a nice greasy breakfast (which isn’t bad seeing as your metabolism is highest in the morning and gets it started early). I’d follow that up with a decent lunch from never just one fast food joint– usually two. I would hit up McDonald’s for two or three burgers (no joke), and then go to Taco Bell for a few tacos and nachos. Sick, eh? Dinner usually ended up being served up by Taco Bell and McDonald’s again. Totally sick. I saw Supersize Me but it apparently didn’t get to me much.

So. What will?

I am grateful for Comedy Central. This will be the first, and probably only, time which I will say such a ludicrous thing. I received my entire value from it, though, when I was watching George Lopez. He was pretty entertaining tonight, sans his obnoxious stereotypes of Mexicans and crackers, but then he was followed up by a morbidly obese Hispanic which caught my attention. He was featured on MySpace secret stand-ups (comedians) and once again, he was invading my life, and perhaps this happened for a reason. Presenting, the extremely greasy, fat, disgusting, filthy bastard known as Gabriel Iglesias:

Don’t get me wrong– I enjoyed his comedy, but for someone that huge to refer himself as “fluffy” is just sick. He’s not fluffy– he’s fucked up. There wasn’t a five-second period during the entire two-hour show that I didn’t think about his weight and how unhealthy this poor bastard must be…

He is now my source of extreme inspiration for weight loss. When I have reached my final goal (yet to be determined), I’ll write him a long letter, along with photos I will have taken along the way to my success, showing him that he can live a healthier life as well.

That said…

In the coming blogs, I will present my favorite clothing and accessories from my favorite design label, Diesel. I’m sorry that I am not a slave to Prada, D&G, or A&F. These brands irritate me, and are such clichés. I am grateful that I have better taste than those mentioned. To inspire me and others, I will be giving a new selection of clothing articles in each volume/edition of this series. Each selection will remind me to contribute to what I now call my Diesel Clothing Fund, and you are more than welcome to contribute, seeing as each set of 3 items will cost around $500 on average. This is an extreme goal, and this will be extreme weight loss.

I will be carrying around a picture of that fat greasy bastard, and may build my selection as time goes on. There are two very obese co-workers at my current job, and whenever I get a new phone with a working camera, I will take pictures and save them for easy access wherever I am, whenever I have an urge to gorge myself as I so often did and still somewhat do. It’s time for me to take control of the only part of me that upsets me.

I enjoy being a pretentious twit. I enjoy being selfish. I enjoy being a fucker. I enjoy the way I am. I enjoy being able to speak out. I like having an amazing speaking voice that some people mistake for apathy. I love not having to have sex with everyone to feel good about myself. I love still being able to appreciate the rest of me even though I don’t look fantastic on the outside. I long for the day that my current skills of being a bastard, fucker, bitch, come to equality with the outside me. Of course, you guys will love me then, because more attractive people get to be twits.

My plans are basically making more money by doing web design. This will be a lot easier once the economy improves (at least a little bit). I also look forward to perhaps moving up to a better position within the next year or two at my job, perhaps to the IT department. It would be nice to boost my salary by 125%, right? Ah, dreams, dreams. Let’s make this shit a reality. Whether you support me or not, I’ll be moving forward. I’d prefer if you don’t support me — it’ll make this shit a lot easier.

The only people that I know will support me every hour of every day are Eric and James. The rest of you can do as you please. Feel free to take this advice and mold it to your own liking. If anyone has any other supportive ideas, feel free to let me in on it! If it works well for me, I’ll be more than happy to give you a gift card to any restaurant or retail store of your choice ranging in various dollar amounts. I look forward to your ideas, and I hope you look forward to my continuing series, and next time, I’ll be providing more enticing pictures– I promise.

Here’s one pretentious prick signing off for tonight. I love you Eric, always. You will always be my brother. I love you, James, though you won’t see this for God knows how long. You’ll always be my boy.

Rated TV-PG for Mature Language.

Now, most people wouldn’t casually admit this, but this isn’t a casual accusation, either.

Never before have I been interested in someone who wants so much sex, and wants just so many guys in general, ever before. It’s fucking disturbing. Don’t you people know that you can get diseases from whoring around with a different guy each HOUR? Shit.

On this guy’s page, he had comments from three or more different guys, saying they should fuck, and that they’re down for whatever. That’s so fucking disgusting. You guys aren’t interested in actually getting to know each other. You’re just interested in sex. It makes me almost want to stay in Texas; nonetheless, I’m rather certain I’ll find someone in California that actually appreciates what I have to offer.

It’s sad when you’re rejected for physical attributes, though. I won’t go into detail about that, but I’m just disappointed right now. I’m not the skinniest person– I’m actually sort of fat. At least I admit to it, but I’m not like a disgusting fat. I’m just fat. I still look sort of cute, I think. That doesn’t give me an excuse to be overweight, but it sort of lessens the pain whenever I think about myself and how I look.

I just don’t understand how people can be so shallow. It’s funny, because I was actually called a player, yet I’m being played. This is so stupid. I can’t believe I’m interested in a slut.

You know what’s worse? The slut provides good conversation, and is fun to talk to. Who knows if anything could ever come from that. I’m not sure if anything ever could, seeing as they have been a huge whore before, and now.

Some of you may be thinking to yourselves, “Well, I’m hot and you’re not. You’re just a fat kid who is starved for attention because he can’t get any.” I’m sorry, but I’ve gotten plenty, and I never have a problem with getting some. I don’t just *want* some, though. I want to actually get to know someone… Why does it seem like the only problems I ever have are problems with the guys in my life? Maybe I should go straight. At least chicks aren’t cunts the way that these guys are to me.

It sucks because I still think there’s a chance that something may happen. I don’t want to just give up. I think it’s totally awesome that someone I’m interested in has so many other people interested in him as well…

It just disturbs me that all he wants from those guys is to just mess around. “Down for anything” is not in my vocabulary. Once I lose weight and move to California, I will not turn into a full-time student and full-time slut. I will not tell everyone I’m down for anything, or everything. I will not freely make out with everyone new I meet on MySpace, at school, or wherever. I want friendships. I want relationships. I want people to appreciate who I am inside, and once I lose weight, who I am on the outside, too. My self-esteem suffers because of the image of myself, and because of how guys treat me. It’s funny because that phrase is rather paradoxical: “Self-esteem” really doesn’t come from yourself, but rather (mostly) from those around you. Totally sucks. I’d love to generate more of my own self-esteem. I’m confident, but not about my physical appearance.

But it looks like personality can’t top that when you’re down for anything.

View the original blog post on MySpace, with comments.