One of the better known representatives of the modern explosion of comic book popularity is the affable "comic book guy" in Fox television's "Simpsons." Snobbish to the extreme, a know it all similar to myself, with flowing brown hair kept tied up in a man scrunchy, the jokes at comic book guys expense make me laugh the hardest, except perhaps for the exploits of "Disco Stu" (as I have a brother named Stu who is equally as cool). The comic book guy is portrayed as a man who always wears a t-shirt one size too small, exposing an extreme belly, and even in flashback episodes to his youth, he was always carrying way too many extra pounds.

An obvious stereotype, the comic book guy makes us life why? Because he is not such a stereotype. Some of my favorite comic book fans are a few pounds over weight, but I have to say this: almost all of America is a few pounds over weight right now! We are in the middle of an obesity epidemic that knows no pant size. Everyone is packing on the extra weight as we gorge on the comfort foods necessary just to make it through the morning news. One estimate I heard was that 80% of people in the US are morbidly obese. If 80% of people are also reading comic books then I'd have a very high hub score.

The simple answer? No, comic books do not make you fat, lack of exercise and a healthy diet make you fat, always will, always have. But the source of the stereotype of fat comic book readers has slight basis in fact: if you are a more sedentary person, prone to sitting and reading instead of climbing mountains and kayaking, then yes, you are more likely to gain weight with the same diet. It's common sense. But the same thing goes for cinema fanatics, couch potatoes, science fiction fans, and even professional sport fans who prefer to watch the pros play instead of participate.

My personal experience with weight and comic books is so far from the norm I just have to examine it here with the watchful eyes of strangers gliding over my curves. You see, I was a husky child in sixth and seventh grade. I was once made fun of as Adam Rolls of fat. The term stuck with me until I made it of to boarding school and realized I had total control over my diet suddenly. I could eat or not eat whatever I wanted. So for the only time in my life I spent three years as an anorexic.

Male anorexics are rare. Why this is I am not sure, other than boys are meant to be big and stocky,while girls are meant to be petite and small (in some messed up way this is the perception). Wrestlers are the classic examples of male anorexics but the dynamics there are so different because those guys love to eat, they just starve themselves to make weight for their fights. That's not why girls starve themselves, and it wasn't why I did either.

I starved myself because my body was wrong. In my mind I was disgustingly over weight at six foot and 165 lbs. I pretty much stopped eating an let myself shrink down. I'd have a pop tart for breakfast, a lettuce sandwich for lunch, and frequently didn't even make the trek from my dorm to the food hall to get dinner. Yes I slimmed down. I think I reached around 140 and six feet tall, and I have to say, I thought I looked good. There was no fat on me. All my muscles were lean and defined. I could run for miles because I was so light on my feet. Even some of the girls noticed, and when they did, their attention sealed the deal: and I ate like an anorexic for four years.

When I put the weight back on it had nothing to do with comic books. When I was first put on medication to deal with my dissability, I was shocked by how easily I could gain weight and how difficult it was to lose weight. I had to stay on these pills for the benefit of my very sanity, but the best I was able to do was stall the upward progression at around twice what I weighed in high school. When one chooses between medicine or more hospital visits it is insufficient and immature to deny your doctor cooperation. To medicate is cheaper than to operate, and even now I am working with my doctor to lose the weight I have amassed.

So yes, I am the stereotype: an overweight comic book fanatic, and it doesn't bother me if people poke fun. But I think there is a serious case to be made that comic books foist an unhealthy body image on young boys. Every superhero is bulked out to the max. It doesn't matter if your mutant power is superstrength or psychic powers, the mutant's body is ripped with muscle. The very metamorphosis of a normal being to a superbeing usually involves a massive gain in muscular bulk, and I suppose it is better than having to see pictures of heroes with guts and big asses swing around on webs or fly through the sky. But little kids don't process that, and I was one of those kids.

No, I'm not crying over my skipped milk, I'm just pointing out that societal influences have varied impacts that are difficult to measure. When I go to the comic book shop on a busy Wednesday, I'd say only about half the guys are overweight. This is a better average than those who go to the all you can eat Chinese buffet next door, I am certain. So cut the comic book kid a break and don't scare him into dangerous eating patterns down the road. Just be inspired by comic book good guys who have to train and work out constantly to stay in peak fighting shape. This is a positive message that can help readers of comic books, but don't set your sights too high, being as big as the Hulk is fortunately not possible, being as fat as the comic book guy on the Simpsons, however, is not too far-fetched.