What’s my Size?

I work at a clothing store for men.

I have to deal with and measure a great number of people on a daily basis.

I can generally size a man up by sight within 2 inches for pants and jackets, 1/2 an inch for dress shirts.

I work in a multi-ethnic part of the world and deal with all shapes, sizes, heights, colours, and creeds.


At this point, to call me knowledgeable in men’s bodies would be an understatement.


I am writing today to inform you of a serious problem we have as a society.

This is a problem that affects over half the population by my estimate and is only getting worse as time goes on.

It is a plague that will pester us forever more unless something is done about it.

I am writing today about the glossing-over of fatness.


I am not anti-fat.

I don’t hate anyone just because they are fat.

In fact, I generally like my female partners to be curvy (sexy way of saying fat).

What I don’t like is fat people pretending they aren’t fat.

What I don’t like is people beginning to accept fat as a default body type.


Every week, I have at least one man come in asking for a pair of size 34 pants when they obviously need a size 42.

I have mothers coming to buy clothes for their “small” boy when he outweighs me at age 14.

I absolutely hate the way people play mental gymnastics to forget the fact that someone close to them (or themselves) is fat.


You know what I’m fine with?


The guys who own up to their bodies, either by making deliberate efforts to improve or simply accepting themselves as fat men.

They are generally a lot of fun to deal with and can laugh at themselves (one of my favorite customers likes to say he makes an elephant look skinny).

They also don’t lie to themselves and everyone around them.

They don’t say dumb things like “you’re so lucky you’re skinny!”.

They don’t expect to be treated like a Brad Pitt when they look like Harvey Weinstein.


A fit body is not a given, it is earned.

I’ve learned that through my own journey to becoming healthier.

I’ve sacrificed so much personal pleasure (Skittles, Oreos, Cheetos, pasta, donuts & milkshakes are my food vices) to get to where I am now.

I have to deny myself foods I want to eat so I can have the body I want.

I make a conscious decision every day to be better, to do more.

It’s hard fucking work, but I find it infinitely rewarding.


And the best part is: anyone can do it too.


Again, I’m not anti-fat.

I’m anti-fat people making excuses for their fatness.

I’m anti letting people get away with lazy behaviors and wondering why they feel bad.

I know a small amount of fat and obese people suffer from conditions that lead them to be bigger.

I’m not talking about those poor souls who’ve been fucked over by nature.


I’m talking about the men who eat fried chicken every day.

I’m talking about the women who drink triple sugar macchiatos at Starbucks every day.

I’m talking about the people who have every opportunity to get better and don’t.


You can live in a delusional world but I don’t have to pretend along with you.

Take responsibility for yourself and stop making others lie to you to protect your oversized ego.


The internet is full of free, high-quality information for anyone willing to put in the time.

Gyms are everywhere nowadays and you don’t even have to step a foot in one to exercise (I haven’t been to one for close to three years!).


You’re not stupid, you’ve heard all of this before so I will leave you with what really got to me:

I never feel better than after exercising.

I can turn all my anger, frustration, self-loathing into fuel.

I can end each day knowing I’m better than I was yesterday.


In parting, you can choose to be fat, just don’t expect me to call you skinny.

Have questions? Comment below or hit me up on Twitter/Instagram!

Enrichen your favorite Patriarch.

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