What would I tell my 16-year-old self? See, that’s tough, because I didn’t have the stereotypical high school fat kid experience. I always was fighting with my weight, but I wasn’t teased much, I was fairly popular, and I was a successful athlete. That’s not to toot my own horn, just that I don’t so much need to give myself a pep talk as tough love:

So, 16-year-old me, I know you think you have this thing down. You pig out all spring and summer, sitting on your ass, and then you lose it in the fall and the winter when football and wrestling rolls around. Hell, you’re actually in pretty good shape by the time the spring comes. Then you start the cycle over again. Well, here’s the thing. In a couple years, there’s not going to be football or wrestling coming up. I know, I know, you think that you’re going to find some small college that wants you to play, but no, you’re not.

Basically, you’re going to have eleven straight years of spring. You know how you completely go to sh*t in the spring and summer? Don’t try to lie; you’re going to gain fifty pounds in six months when you’re a senior, and trust me, I’m in a position to know. You think that 300 pounds is a lot? Try 400. And let me tell you, it happens without you even knowing it. How often do you weigh yourself once wrestling ends? And remember, don’t try to lie, because I’ll know. That’s right, you weigh yourself once, at the beginning of football season, so they can put your weight in the football program.

Well here’s the thing: when you never weigh yourself, it lets you deny what you’re really doing to your body. Then one day you take a deep breath, step on the scale and you’re 403 pounds. You don’t even tell anyone how much you weigh now, and you’re only 205 pounds. One day you’re going to tell everyone you know, right out there on the internet, your weight. Every day. The day you start doing that? You’ll be 379.4 pounds. Not only that, that’s going to be after you’ve already lost about 24 pounds. Yeah, you’re going to be that fat. No, it’s not going to be pretty. You’ll buy all your clothes at one of two stores because those will literally be your only options. You’ll grow a beard because your face will be too fat to keep clean-shaven. Everything you do will make you sweat.

So here’s what you have to do: Work out, like almost every day. I know, it sucks now, going to wrestling practice every day, and all you want to do is finish the season so you can go do stupid stuff with your friends. But go do it anyway. Eventually, it will suck a lot less. In fact, you’ll even enjoy it sometimes. But still, a lot of the time you’ll just want to stay home and watch TV. I won’t lie to you, watching TV is a lot easier than working out. But you know what doesn’t suck? Looking good in your clothes. Not sweating all the time. Not dreading walking half a mile to a restaurant with your friends. Finishing a half-marathon. That’s my next goal. I haven’t done it yet, but I’ve run seven miles. What’s the farthest you’ve run? Oh, a mile? Just as an FYI, that’s going to be the case for the next thirteen years.

So that’s what I have to tell you, 16-year-old me. Basically, eat vegetables, stop stuffing yourself, work out when you can. It’s not easy, trust me; I’m the one that’s been on both sides of it. Take care of yourself now, buddy; if you don’t, you’ll wish you had when you’re me.