Damon Sasso

Two moments forced me to take a realistic look at myself. The first occurred while visiting a friend. What should have been nothing more than a quick trip to the bathroom, morphed into a moment of change. A scale sitting in the corner seemed to call my name. When I stepped on it, I was shocked at the number -- 314 pounds. That scale wasn't calling my given name. It was calling me "son of blubber." I thought, "NO WAY!" While not svelte, I'm 260 pounds at most. Stupid scale must be broken." To indulge my outrage, on my way home I purchased a scale. It was broken too! But then I realized my friend's was working and so was mine. I was FAT!

The second moment was a two for one. My brother, always described as "the thin one," took me for the first time to adult Disneyland, a.k.a. Las Vegas, to see my radio hero Phil Hendrie who was performing live at the Luxor. I had one goal: have my picture taken with Phil. Since radio is theater of the mind, I didn't really know what funny-man Phil looked like. His physical appearance surprised me; Phil was pudgy around the middle just like me. I finally got his autograph and my picture taken with him. Imagine my horror, when I saw the photo and "pudgy around the middle" Phil was dwarfed by me the porker. Seriously, I was double his size. The tragedy is that a photo of me with my radio hero was never displayed because I was so embarrassed.