Two and a half years ago I weighed 318 lbs.  I went to the Midwest Literary festival to hear Joyce Carol Oates speak about writing and the writing process.  During the question and answer period, I stood up and went to the front microphone to ask her a question about what emerging fiction writers should do to become published  authors and she recommended that I take up running as a way to sort out ideas in my head.

Afterwards, I went to leave and a man in the back row stopped me, saying, “Nobody wants to see your plummer butt.”  I told him, “Pardon my front, pardon my back,” but I was embarrassed because I was so overweight that none of my clothes fit me.

Since then, I’ve lost almost a 100 lbs, but still, my clothes don’t fit because I’ve shedded all the excess weight.  I was at church today and overheard the elderly ladies commenting that I keep pulling my pants up, but my butt is still visible.  I went to the bathroom and tucked my sweater in.  What people don’t realize when they are “grossed out” by someone’s backside is that the person with his butt showing is equally mortified.

My waistline is longer than the average person, and I continue to have trouble finding clothes that really fit.  Obviously I am now going to have to sort through my closet, ruthlessly getting rid of clothes that don’t fit, but a word to the wise.  A little tact goes a long way.