Fat Guy BJJ Blog

The slightly sarcastic, nominally entertaining Brazilian Jiu Jitsu adventures of a 30-something Dad



White Belt Loses. Learns Nothing.

whitebelt.jpgAtlanta, GA.  John Sanders, a local Brazilian Jiu Jitsu white belt, was busy sparring at the end of a particularly arduous class on Wednesday evening when the unthinkable happened.  Sanders lost. And he learned nothing.

“I don’t even really know what happened,” Sanders offered.  “I was just sitting there in this blue belt’s guard and, viola, I was choked.  I didn’t see it coming.  I’m not even totally sure what happened to be honest.”

The age old mantra of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu practitioners worldwide has been “You win or you learn,” a lesson passed down from professor to student since time immemorial. Sander’s Professor, Juan Manicotta, declined to answer questions related to any specific incident, but did offer the following comment:

“Sometimes you don’t think you’re learning, but you are.  Sometimes you think you’re unconscious from the choke, but really you are learning so much that your brain just has to shut down in order to process all of the wonders to which you’ve just been exposed.  I had a guy shit his trousers once.  He learned so much that the knowledge literally occupied all of the space in his body, and out came the poop.  That was some good learning,” said Manicotta.

As for Sanders, as of press time he still had not solidified any sense of expanded knowledge.  He intends to continue training, and has since begun recording his lessons into a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu journal, although he admits it’s mostly just doodles.

“I literally have no idea what the hell is going on,” Sanders said. “I mean, how am I supposed to write down what I’m learning if the only time I learn is when I’m unconscious?”


Exclusive Pics of Me in NoGi Attire

I love NoGi!  Especially when guys feel the need to grapple with no shirt on.  It’s like sliding down the slip-n-slide of destiny towards purgatory.  There’s nothing like heavy breathing, sweat-laden men, and close proximity to the wobbly bits.  And then there’s my physique, svelte as I have become. I’ve managed to find a few pictures of me in NoGi attire for your viewing pleasure:

biscuitsFirst up, the busted can of biscuits.  This is what happens when I try to wear rash guards developed for normal people.  At some point or another, a pasty white substance is going to come floating out of a crack.  While you might not want to take a bite, I assure you I’ll always rise to the occasion.  Get it?  Rise. It’s a fucking biscuit. But I digress.

nickelsNext, we have a bag of nickels.  This is what I looked like in my early days when I refused to grapple NoGi unless I had on a pair of sweats.  Why?  Because I’m sexier in sweats, and because the sweat is gross.  Ironically, the sweats made me….well, sweat….which only served to double the amount of greasy goodness I had to wade through in each practice.

muffin20top20120400.jpg-1And then there’s the muffin top.  This is what I look like when I wear spats.  There’s just not enough structure in those cool looking octopus spats to contain my sexy, and therefore I come rushing out like a tsunami.  Ride the waves, but please don’t take a bite out of crime. I know I look good but that shit hurts.

Now, I’ve lost almost 70 lbs, so don’t give me too much shit.  Also, if you’re going to reply to this post with your wonder supplement or miracle diet, please kill yourself.  I know what I need to do.  Train.  Eat clean. Have your mom home by 10.  I got it.  Now, chill out and ponder this wonderful image from the interwebs while I go sweat with the other fatties.


Muay Tired

I did Muay Thai today instead of Jiu Jitsu for two reasons.  First, my knee, toe, back, shoulder, wrist, ribs, and foot arch hurts and I need a break from that shiz.  Second, I wanted to take some breathtaking photos of Jiu Jitsu in action, which can now be seen on the Combat Athletix Facebook page.

I know they took it easy on me in Muay Thai class.  I know this.  However, it was still brutal for the fat kid.  Jab, jab, cross.  Jab, jab, cross, kick, cross.  WTF?  At this point I would tackle a mo-fo and go to Jiu Jitsu just so I could lay down.  Now I understand MMA. They don’t go to the ground to gain any advantage, they do it to take a nap.  It all makes sense.  My new fat kid fight strategy goes like this:  Jab, jab, cross, tackle, lay upon opponent, take a nap.

I just thought I might point out that I’m undefeated as a professional fighter.  0-0.  Also, what I’m doing is far superior to what you’re doing.

On another note, I’m down like 17 lbs since I started Jiu Jitsu.  Now, that being said, I was up like 19 lbs before I started Jiu Jitsu, so the net effect is that I’m two pounds worse off than I was.  If you think of it that way, it’s kinda depressing.  So, for the sake of my mood, we’ll just say I’ve lost a bunch of weight and ignore the stupid weigh ins on the sidebar.



You Might Be A BJJ White Belt If…

So, it’s not secret that a brother has recently begun practicing Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.  It’s fun, and it’s a great workout, but I suck huge ferret huevos at it right now.  Not gonna lie.  Here are my top five (mostly true) ways to tell that you’re a white belt:

1) You out weight your opponent by 300% and still get choked. Yep.  True story.  And he was a she.  It’s cool.  I have no ego left anyway.

2) When your instructor tells you it’s time to roll, you ask if you have to go the whole way down the mat this time.  I did that one too.  Apparently “rolling” is the part where I try to perform the move that I just learned ten minutes ago to no effect.  Who knew?

3) You get stuck in your instructor’s guard as sit up, throw up your hands, and ask “What now?”  To my eternal shame, I kinda didn’t get the whole “rolling” thing.  I guess the objective is to try to attain a dominant position and perform a submission trick of some sort on your opponent.  Great.  But what do you do if you don’t know any submissions?  It’s a good question, right?

4) You’re so fat they actually don’t make gis big enough for you.  I’m pretty sure its impossible to be fat and good and Jiu Jitsu.  Everyone who has choked or arm barred me so far has been pretty thin.  So, if you’re fat, you’re probably a beginner.  Just an observation.

5) You don’t even own any of those super-sexy rash guards and fancy split-side shorts, so you wear a t shirt and cargo pants.  Always the one to make a fashion statement.  You know how I roll.


Brazilian Jiu Jitsu Day 3: Fat Guy In A Little Gi

So I showed up at BJJ class today to learn that certain days are no-gi training days, and other days we wear a gi.  Now, a gi is akin to a gigantic bath robe made out of the least comfortable fabric known to man.  It breathes about as well as an asthmatic fat kid after a three block run.  It’s really comfortable.  

Since it was a gi training day, and I didn’t have a gi, I had to go to the magical box of slightly scary lost and found gis.  We managed to find a size 5 gi for me to wear.  Only issue is that I’m about a size 7.  Making a long story short, I couldn’t even wrap the silly thing around my sexy (some people have more sexy than others).  We ended up stretching it around me as best as possible and securing it with my white belt.  Good enough for the girls I date.

Except the first move that we practiced required my partner to grab both lapels of the gi and hold them together in his hand.  This is laughable because there was no possible way that those gi lapels were going together.  All of the pharaohs men, equipped with the finest ropes and slave drivers could not have pulled those lapels together.  Epic fail.

Then, I had the opportunity to “roll,” which apparently means to exert yourself as much as possible without actually accomplishing anything.  I rolled with Mr. Smiley, who happens to be a gigantic beast of a man, and the experience was similar to wrestling a statue.  I was moving about, doing my best to get in what I think of as a dominant position, even though I wouldn’t have any idea if I tripped and fell in a dominant position, and Mr. Smiley layed upon his back, squeezed me with his legs, and looked terribly unimpressed with my efforts.  Finally, having had enough of my antics, he did a little something which resulted in intense pain and I tapped out.  It was terribly demotivating.

That being said, I did get my work out on.  I nearly passed out twice, quazi-vomited at least once, and succeeded in doing about half of an Americana submission on my partner (hint: you do not get partial credit in Jiu Jitsu).  Oh well.  Try again tomorrow.


Day 50: Who the F is This Guy?

me in kyrgyzstan circa 2002

The Three Coolest Things in Fitness and Weight Loss Blogging

So, here’s a list of crap that I think is awesome:

Melinda’s Fitness Blog, because she put a picture of her butt on the masthead.  I just may reciprocate.  Look out world!

It Sux To Be Fat, because of the humorous name, and because she has a post about how to run.  Bwahahaha.  I love it.

Jenful, because she wrote a book called “Half Assed”  about weight loss.  That’s hilarious.

Read them, or be folded into a gigantic egg roll and eaten on my next splurge day!

Back on the Wagon (Again)

So I’ve decided to get back on the weight loss wagon. Call it a new year’s resolution. And, let me tell you b, the freaking wagon ain’t happy.  It’s all like “get off me you fat bastard!”

Anyway. More to follow.

Day 4: Open Letter To Stinkasaurus Rex

onionDear guy on the tread mill next to me,

Please wash your funky butt.  I don’t mean to be rude, but when you approached the tread mill, on minute number 27 of my cardio routine, you nearly caused me to pass out and drown in my own vomit.  There are several issues at the core of my plea, and I will attempt to address each of them here.

First, stepping onto the cardio machine directly next to a dude is a clear violation of man rules, unless EVERY other machine is taken.  This violation will cost you five man points.  Any further violations of the man rules in this manner will result in a back-flip kick to the neck.  Don’t think I can’t do it just because I’m fat.  Consider yourself warned.

Second, and perhaps most importantly, we live in an industrialized nation where soap and wash cloths are available at nearly every store.  Moreover, you have your choice of brands and scents, including various types of Manpoo, body wash, and good ole soapy goodness.   While I can’t guarantee you won’t be docked man points for showing up at the gym smelling like mango mellon, I can certainly guarantee that you will be karate chopped in the neck the next time you invade my aura with your odoriferous iminations of funk.

Finally, I would like to address the sources of the funk that so heinously offended my olfactory perceptions.  I would recommend diversifying your diet to extend beyond onions.  I expect you eat nothing but onions since your armpits smell like dirty dish water covering onion casserole.  I would also recommend a strong….very strong….deodorant and antiperspirants to at least mask the onion smell if by some chance your are involved in some strange religious onion cult and can’t diversify your diet.  Finally,  a stick of Big Red is required to mask that hot, funky coffee breath. 

By the way, it is impolite to breath through your mouth in the direction of another dude when you haven’t brushed your fangs.  Again, save yourself from the wrath of the karate chop, pal.

Consider yourself warned,

Fat Guy

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑