Too Fat for my Bones
When I entered college, I was about 165lbs. When I graduated I was 215lbs. When I quit my job I was 245lbs. Yes I was a fat ass. The week I quit my job at KPMG, I had a gig in Chicago. After the gig, I had to get back to LA for some reason so I was running down O’hare airport. I ran down a flight of stairs and I missed the last step. I rolled my ankle and fell. I fell pretty damn hard and not a single soul helped me up. I don’t blame them though because when a fat person falls, it is fucking hilarious! When skinny people fall, it is almost graceful and beautiful. It is similar to a leaf falling from a tree in the fall. I got up immediately because I felt like a dumbass. This is one situation you can’t play off cool.
I get to the plane, barely. I rather be in LA (my home) with a sprained ankle than in Chicago (not my home). So once we line, I limp my ass back to my car and drive home. I ice my fucked up right ankle and tried to get some sleep. I felt my heart beating from ankle. Wonderful I thought.
I wake up the next morning and when I looked down at my ankle, it was the size of my knee. I called a family friend who is a podiatrist. I said you need to check this shit out because there is no way my ankle is just sprained. He tells me to come in right away. I get up putting all my weight on my “good foot”. Well my “good foot” said fuck you just collapsed on me. I was thinking what the fuck is going on. I was so heavy that I couldn’t support my body weight on one foot! To add to that, within the span of 24 hours, I hurt both my ankles! I was fresh out of fucking luck.
So it took me 30 minutes to get to my car. I live on the first floor! I walk into the doctor’s office like I got gang raped in jail. It turns out that my first injury; I tore some ligaments on my ankle. The second injury, was because bones in my ankle splintered out due to the weight of my body. The doctor told me that I should stay off my legs. I told him I don’t know how to fly so that may be a little difficult. He said he can’t give me crutches because that wouldn’t make sense. He suggested that I get a walker. I told him to fuck off. I told him I am 25 years old and I didn’t have tennis balls, so no walker.
He shot me up with morphine and I got home and stayed indoors for one whole month. I ate like a refugee. After the month was over, I lost 40 lbs. Not from working out but from not eating. The anorexics have the right idea when it comes to weight loss.
After a month of being immobile, I still wasn’t completely healed. I had a terrible limp and my ankles were still kinda fucked up. I had to call my good buddy, Ms. Accupunture, who came over to my place and placed a gang of needles in my body. My ankles got better within the first session!
While I was recovering, I applied Ben-Gay on my ankles because well it seemed to be working more than the medication that was given to me by the podiatrist. So as I was watching TV and putting on some Ben Gay, the famous Girls Gone Wild promo videos came on. Without thinking, my hands went down stairs to touch my baby spitter. I forgot about the Ben Gay on my hands but I was quickly reminded. It started to burn real bad but… I aint no quitter so I finished.
