Now, the following story is first hand: I was there when it went down and know all of the characters involved.
And, too, I’ll give you a heads-up that it is not about a heavyweight boxer losing and winning inside a ring. This particular bout took place in a different arena called “real life.”
The man, now in his late 50s, had battled a weight problem for much of his adult life. With a large frame, a fair amount of athleticism, he could handle a good amount of weight, in the sense that he could get around fairly well and be productive versus it being an absolute chore.
Let’s just say this man was/is 6-foot tall and could do OK as long as he stayed in the 220-235 pound range.
However, over the years, the weight, much like a well-planned military attack, stealthily crept up on him, tactically affecting his very existence: buying and wanting to wear new clothes, working out, socializing, going about life in general.
Weight had become an enemy, and the longer he waited to do something about it, the bigger and more deadly the enemy would become, he rationalized. Having ballooned, at one point, to around 273 pounds, the man came up came up with a counter attack, and his weapons of choice for a colossal battle were many hours on a treadmill and a diet of oatmeal, fruit, and steamed vegetables.
Over the course of one and a half years, the man managed to drop 83 pounds, and he emerged the victor in his fight to conquer his deadly foe.
The man, expectedly, had to get a new wardrobe, both everyday clothing and dress clothing.
Folks, stay with me as I take a little bit of a sharp turn with this story ...
Now down to 190 pounds, this man dressed up to go to the funeral home to pay his respects to an elderly neighbor who had passed on. He wore a double-breasted, Raffinati jacket, Van Heusen shirt, Tony Bahama slacks, and dress loafers.
At the funeral home, he went about the usual protocol: signing the guest book, viewing the elderly man in his casket, and conversing with some old friends he hadn’t seen in a long time.
This striking, sexy lady, no wedding ring, about 50, and dressed to the nines, walked directly toward him, smiling the whole time.
Uh-oh, the man thought, because he had a history with her. They had dated back 20 or so years ago, when he was in his late 30s and she in her late 20s. He’d only seen her a couple times in the last four or five years, and she’d always attempted to ignore him, probably because he’d allowed himself to get heavy, he’d deduced.
Plus, the man knew her “real game”: Over the course of a couple decades, she’d used her physical assets to drain a slew of men of their financial assets.
Smiling, she walked up to the man and started talking. From the onset, it was obvious she had no earthly idea of the man’s true identity.
For some reason, she introduced herself without asking the man for his name. She continued to rattle on about her great accomplishments. She headed this civic group; she owned a couple homes and some property; she knew the local Who’s Who, etc.
She finally asked the man, not wearing wedding ring, what he did for a living, and he replied that he was a “writer” and in the “entertainment business,” which was true, to a small degree.
Eyes sparkling and 20 grand worth of teeth exposed, she excused herself to say “hello” to an elderly lady who knew everyone there. The man knew what was up — the hustler was going to find out the name of the well-dressed man.
Observing her every move, he watched her lean over and whisper to the elderly lady. Plain as could be, he lip-read the elderly lady say his name.
The decked-out hustler immediately spun around on her high heels with an expression similar to someone looking at Lucifer at the Gates of Hell!
She snatched up her purse and stormed out of the funeral home.
Indeed, it was a “knockout” moment for the one-time heavyweight who’d waited a long time to redeem himself.