Intro: Unfortunately, this story is very real. This is an actual conversation I had with my brother, remembered to the best of my recollection, and I still feel bad about it to this day. I’m a part time boxing instructor so fitness has always been important to me, especially when it concerns my family.
“You haven’t lost a single pound?” The question stupidly rolls through my lips despite my full knowledge of the answer that is soon to follow.
“Well no, but they say muscle weighs more than fat,” The moronic look on my brother’s face implies he truly believes the spectacular level of idiocy he’s preaching.
“True, but how much do you weigh currently?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Bullshit, you know, but you don’t want t tell me because you think I’m going to judge you.”
“Will you?” He asks without looking at me.
“Will I what?”
“Judge me. Will you judge me when I tell how much I weigh?”
“Probably yes, but if it helps you’ll have no idea, it’ll be silent judgment. I won’t tell anyone I’m just curious.”
“Yeah, 480 that’s my weight.” I try to stifle my obvious surprise at such a shockingly large number.
“There’s worse,” I say trying to hide my high level disgust that my own brother could allow himself to be so fucking vile. “Shit man, that’s not even a TV special there’s plenty of people bigger than you,” while this statement is true I don’t believe it in the slightest.
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“How often are you going to the gym?” I ask.
“About five times.”
“Five times a week?”
“Fuck man that’s more than me, what are you eating? You should be dropping weight like crazy if you’re working out that much.”
“I think it’s my thyroid,” My brother says obviously trying to change the subject.
“Shut the fuck up, it’s not your thyroid. What are you eating,” my voice gets increasingly more aggressive.
“Weight gain is a side effect of this new medication I’m on.”
“Is your new medication made out of ice cream?” I’m intentionally being mean at this point.
“I’m really trying my best.”
“What are you eating? What did you have for breakfast today?” I ask knowing I’m not going to like the answer.
“I had a whole wheat bagel,” he says this as if he’s proud of himself.
“Awesome, that’s a solid breakfast. What else did you have?”
“What do you mean?”
“What else did you have for breakfast? What did you put on that bagel?”
“I put peanut butter on the bagel.”
“And a little bit of honey.”
“Okay, what else?”
“I made three eggs and some bacon.”
“Okay, egg whites?”
“No whole eggs.”
“Okay, what else?”
“I had a banana.”
“Well that’s good.”
“Yeah!” He sounds so proud it’s stupid. “But I also had a bowl of cereal and two donuts.”
“Okay,” I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I’m going to have to handle this situation tactfully.
“You indicated in your food log that you had a whole wheat bagel for breakfast?”
“Yeah, I did have a bagel.”
“But what about the other stuff?”
“What other stuff?”
“The grocery list you just mentioned.”
“Oh that stuff?”
“Yeah, that stuff.”
“Well,” I can tell my brother is trying concoct some sort of fat person excuse, “I guess I didn’t think about it.”
“You didn’t think about it? Not at any point while you were consuming nearly a day’s worth of calories?”
“It’s not that much.”
“It’s quite a bit.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“Well, let’s find out,” I slide my chair back and go into the living room.
“Where are you going?” my brother asks.
“I’m getting a notepad and a calculator.” I return to my seat with both items and I begin making notes on a blank page.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m rewriting your food log for yesterday. So you started with a bagel, how many calories were in the bagel?”
“About 300 I think?”
“Fair enough, and you put honey and peanut butter on the bagel correct?”
“So let’s say another 200 calories, give or take.”
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“Do you want to fact check my math?”
“No,” my brother’s eyes drop to the floor.
“After that you had three eggs and bacon, so let’s say another 350, sound fair?”
“I have no idea.”
“We’ll say 350, and you capped that off with a bowl of cereal and two donuts, which to be perfectly honest, I have no idea how many calories to say, let’s put down another 500.”
“We really don’t have to do this.”
“You’re goddamn right we do,” I take a moment to add all the numbers together. ‘We’re looking at about 1350 calories for breakfast.” My brother says nothing and I’m starting to feel like an asshole.
“I suppose it could be worse, but you need to get ahold of this shit man. You’re 32 and you’re going to fucking die soon.” My brother starts to cry and I officially feel like an asshole. I never know how to react when people are upset, so I leave and go for a walk. I never said I was a good person.