The List: A List Of Things That Would Be Different If I Wasn't Overweight

1. My confidence would go through the roof.

2. I could wear the clothes I really want to wear instead of XXL. (that are still tight)

3. I wouldn't think people were snickering about me behind my back while eating gigantic amounts of food at the coffee shop.

4. I wouldn't get winded putting on my shoes.

5. I wouldn't wake up with sleep apnea every night.

6. I could get the girls I want.

7. I could walk more than a couple minutes without aching in my knees, feet and ankles.

8. I could face my ex girlfriend after all these years.

9. I would be pleased with photos of myself.

10. I wouldn't be called Michael Moore when I have a beard and wear a baseball hat.

11. I wouldn't feel like the big fatty on the plane, squeezed into my seat, asking for two peanut packs.

12. I wouldn't want to sit down all the time. (Well, maybe I still would.)

13. I wouldn't be jealous of my in shape friends.

14. Gay men might take an interest in me.

15. I would take of my shirt during sex.

16. I wouldn't have two chins and a gigantic gut.

17. I wouldn't have to hear people's dieting advice anymore. (Freely given to me by the way.)

18. I wouldn't hate myself.

19. I would fill the empty voids with something other than food.

20. There would be no more food wrappers in my car or bedroom floor.

21. I wouldn't gently eat salads on dates. (And then hit a drive thru afterwards for Big Macs.)

22. I wouldn't be obsessed with this weight or all this writing about said weight.

23 I could write about being thin and handsome.

24. I could have sex without running out of energy halfway through.

25. I could go hiking with my friend and his 3 year old.

26. Little kids wouldn't call me fat.

27. I wouldn't have to fight myself to drive past Taco Bell.

28. I'd be the handsome leading man.

29. I wouldn't be called "Big Guy."

30. People wouldn't be shocked after not seeing me for a while. Or they would if I lost this weight.

31. I wouldn't feel embarrassed at the gym.

32. I'd go to the gym.

33. I wouldn't stare at myself in the mirror and feel like a disgusting animal.

34. I wouldn't gorge on a large extra cheese pizza after midnight.

35. I wouldn't have Diabetes.

36. I wouldn't have high blood pressure.

37. I wouldn't have gout.

38. I wouldn't have high cholesterol.

39. I wouldn't be in the morbidly obese category.

40. I wouldn't die.

41A. Oh, come on, you didn't think I'd leave ya on such a sad note did ya? Finally, I would turn myself into a hairy werewolf and ravage the Victorian countryside by the moons light, but I wouldn't kill for blood, I would fuck. I would fuck all the fair maidens of the gypsy village and then find my way to the castle (where my true identity lives as Lord Harold Butler) and take the virginity of the beautiful Ms. Jane. I'd be known as The Fuck Wolf. The wolf that fucks when the sun goes down. Make no mistake though, someone would call out from afar, "There goes that fat wolf trying to get laid again." Yep.

Journal - Morbidly Obese?! WTF!

January 2011

So I have decided to make this a more updated site including journal entries and everyday situations related to the subject.

I told myself I had to be honest with this thing. No bullshit, even though I fall into that trap often, I'm going to try, from here on in, not to do that. I hope.

I need to put this stuff out there in it's purest, most real form. The weight and all it relates too.

This is part of the reason I had to get out LA. for a while. I had to deal with my health. The weight. The weight connects all the dots. Most of my shit is rooted in the weight. Since I've been in Boston I have accomplished most of what I set out to do, except for the weight loss. This is the final piece to the puzzle and I have to tackle it. Not just tackle it, but take it down hard, at the 10 yard line. (A friend of mine once told me not to refer to myself in the athletic sense.)

The most recent reminder was a recent conversation with my doctor. She told me I was morbidly obese. MORBIDLY OBESE! WTF! I mean, I knew I was obese, but morbidly? I thought that was reserved for guys stuck in bed, weighing 500lbs. that have to be airlifted out of their homes.

This horrified me. Partly. The other half me wished I was filming the conversation, cause I thought my friends would get a kick out of it, but it's not funny.

See. This is what I mean. This is not cute anymore. I am not the cuddly, chubby cutie anymore. I am the creepy MORBIDLY OBESE guy now. Oh man. I had crossed the line.

Now let me explain. Morbidly obese just means your Body Mass Index is a certain number, so you fall into a certain bracket. It's a title. A number. A category. It doesn't mean your a rhino roaming the fields.

No, I am not subject matter for a Discovery Channel series (yet), but it's a warning sign. Fuck warning sign. It's Code Red. Mach 4. I am at war, with my body. This is Red Dawn time. I'm a Wolverine vs. the Russians (they represent my weight.)

This is the warning sign? Not the gout or Diabetes or being called Michael Moore. How many fucking "warning signs" do I need? Maybe my doctor telling me I was at risk for a heart attack will actually keep me from a steak and cheese later tonight. Maybe.

I am supposed to be home here in Boston, dealing with this. I had the excuse in LA of being broke and living the writer/actor lifestyle, eating when and where you could just to get by.

That doesn't fly here. I have so many healthy options, and though I have cut out the fast food and regular soda, it's other foods here that do me in. A different brand of indulgence. Now it's chicken parm, big Italian family dinners, pizza and cannoli. Still, I don't need to eat it. I admit, when I first got home for this sabbatical, I needed to heal and feel human, so I ate all my favorite foods. It was comforting. I'd say I'm pretty fucking comfortable now. So comfortable I am still eating them.

I also have to get to a gym. Stat. I joined one, and blew it off. There is no reason why I shouldn't be going. How many episodes of Cheers can I watch instead of being on a treadmill? I even bought sneakers, that are sitting in my closet covered in dust. Velcro orthopedic footing. Fat or old man sneakers. The kids are not wearing these. Even the gym I wanna join has Pizza Mondays! Pizza Mondays? Probably not the gym for me. See. Bad decisions.

I have a stress test next week to see what's up with my heart. Not that I need a test to tell me I need to change my rituals, but hey - at least I'll be on a treadmill.

Stay tuned for the results.

Confessions of an FFG

FFG. A friend of mine coined that phrase in regards to me. I used to be an FFG. I may still be one. Who knows at this point in my life. What is an FFG?

FFG - FUNNY FAT GUY. I am still a guy and fat. Funny? I don't know. I may have lost some of my swagger, but FFG still seems to stick in certain circles.

I don't know how I became an FFG. It just happened. I gained weight, continued comedy and BANG - I earned my wings. My chubby wings.

I was an FFG for years in LA and even before that, in NY and Boston. I suppose all my life. An FFG is the fat funny guy that is always the cut-up in school and the crazy dude in college that runs naked across campus. This clown usually goes to NY or LA and tries to become a comedian performing stand up, sketch and/or improv.

That was the road I took. My goals were the same as Belushi (John, not Jim) and Farley. I wanted to be like those big guys. My heroes. They were larger than life on many levels, both good and bad.

After training at Improv Olympic (Farley's alma mater), I performed comedy in Los Angeles for years and eventually started my own sketch troupe that started achieving the goals I had set for it. We started to get heat and were taking off. It was everything I dreamt about.

All the while I was the FFG of these groups. I was the one taking off his clothes, dancing around like a fool and leading the party afterward. I even got laid off this, as big as I was. I mean, I wasn't enormous or anything, but I was definitely obese.

I wasn't famous or anything either, but people knew who I was and who the groups I was in were. We were getting some heat and I was having the time of my life. It was all in the moment. It was a great time. The weight wasn't an issue. It didn't worry me. It was my calling card. People wanted to see the FFG do fucked up funny shit in the show.

Thing is, I wasn't that fat at the time. I was just fat enough to be in the club.

Around that time I wrote and performed a solo stage show - "Fat Broke & Horny." It was a one-man show about my issues with women, weight and work. All true memoir stuff. I crafted it into a humorous piece showcasing how I could laugh at all my demons. Like the sketch, I rode this for a while as well.

Problem was, I was actually getting fatter and way out of shape.

Then the demons got real. I realized (with the help of my therapist) that I was creating my issues. I wasn't putting a stop to them out of fear of losing my FFG moniker. It was all I knew. It was my identity in the comedy world that I was trying to break into. Problem was, everything I made fun in my act or that I laughed at so easily was coming true in my actual life. My actual identity as Mark Phinney, not the FFG from "Fat Broke & Horny" or the sketch shows. I wasn't separating the two.

This was a problem because people now wanted the FFG all the time. Then I felt I had to stay the FFG to please these desires, because - I admit it - I thrive off it. I wanted to make people laugh, so I did what I had to, including staying in this FFG skin. It got old though. I got tired of putting on a show 24 hours a day.

I was getting tired of being cast as that guy. I was just being given those roles. If someone thought of a funny fat guy bit, it was me they came to. If someone had a part in their project for a funny fatty, it was I that would fill the spot. It was depressing. It's not that I wanted to be the cool, lean leading man either. Wasn't that at all. I just didn't wanna be known for funny fat anymore. I started turning down bigger roles that could have elevated my career. I even turned down my own show at one point because I didn't want to be the fat guy on TV. It was a reality show, but still, it could have put some money in my broke ass pockets.

I was putting on weight and getting sick. Gout and diabetes had already taken shape. I had aches and pains and sleep apnea. I couldn't get up and down stairs. I was becoming bad in bed and would lose my breath just standing up. I was fat, and it wasn't funny anymore. My alter ego was taking over and taking aim at my body and mind. I was becoming the guy I laughed at. I created a monster. My own Frankenstein, sewn together from the plump bodies of my FFG forbears.

The FFG had taken over and he was not a happy person. He is secretly trying not to be the FFG by dieting and joining gyms (all of which he never follows through on or tells anyone about). I had a true inner battle going on between mind and body. Again, this is deep-rooted shit. That fear that you will lose all that made you who you were. That was gaining you opportunities. That made people laugh and be friends with you. This is all, of course, bullshit, but when you are a dysfunctional creative type, it's all you know.

I was less the FFG now, and more the DFD (Depressed Fat Dude).

Every day something new would be a large bell tolling for me to wake to this situation: from career halt, to feeling like shit, to friends and family reminding me I'm only human and, more importantly, I didn't need to be the FFG.

Don't get me wrong, I loved the FFG. The history behind it and the fact that I got to be one. Problem is, as I said before, the FFG is usually a mess of melancholy, anxiety and low- to no self- confidence. That is why you keep the FFG mask on. It's your shield against failure. Your force field against having to actually face your reality.

My life was filled with the loss of a relationship, money and career struggles that led to stress and drugs. I was going to be the only un-famous FFG to die like the famous ones, from food, pain meds and a broken heart.

What was next? The Biggest Loser?

There was only one thing to do. Not be the FFG anymore.

I stopped going to the auditions, putting on the stage shows and got down with my writing persona. I began to write about the FFG and it has helped a good deal. I'm still not out of the woods, and still love my inner FFG, and who knows - maybe I will go back to that guy. Just a more balanced, healthier FFG. Belushi and Farley couldn't swing it, but maybe I can.