Above the Law ran a piece this morning on a topic that triggered a pang of self-recognition:  gaining weight in BigLaw.  For some reason, in just a few short months of practice at a typical “BigLaw” firm, I’ve piled on a boatload of blubber.  So where is it all coming from?  One ATL writer thinks first-year fat like mine comes from associates who like to run up the bill on client-comped late-night meals:

Apparently, the rationale in a guy’s mind is that if some jerkhat client is going to make him sit around waiting for turned documents at 9 p.m. when he could otherwise have been sitting at home watching The Little Chocolatiers, the client would have to pay, and pay DEARLY for it. Punishing a client by padding hours is one form of “revenge,” but the other and ostensibly more common variety is to charge the client $30 – the absolute limit – for dinner every night. And so begins the “spiteful” $30 sushi orders, the seven extra Snapples, and the gratuitous bags of jelly beans “for later.” It all adds up to a half-assed Biggest Loser audition tape and a form rejection letter in the mail saying that you’re fat but didn’t have a compelling story.

Hmmm . . . an interesting theory.   But my chub rub doesn’t come from getting back at the clients, because I’ve never actually charged a single dinner to my firm.

ATL’s Elie Mystal, a fellow prince of pudge, provides another explanation:

Was my aging metabolism just catching up with me?

No. I think it was the infinite sadness. I believe that happy people naturally get more exercise than sad people. You say “it’s a nice day, I think I’ll walk to work.” You say, “sure buddy, going to Chelsea Piers sounds like great fun.” You just do more things when you are in a good mood. And you eat less. When you are in a bad mood, you kind of sit there, angry, and waiting for the opportunity to go home and sleep. At the firm my lifestyle was wake up and sit down, travel in a moving chair to my office where I’d sit. Sit all day until it was time to call for another moving chair which would take me to my door. Go to my bedroom and sit for a bit, then eventually pass out. Shoveling food and drink into my mouth at every opportunity. It’s no way to live, and it puts on a lot of weight.

Ah ha!  Now that sounds more like my lifestyle.  The strange thing about law practice is how draining it can be; the often frustrating work, the boredom, the stress, and the time suck all congeal into one very blob-like associate.  In law school, I found working out was a great release for my frustrations.  After joining a firm, that work out time is just less time in my wonderful, comfy bed. When I’m awake and upright, I’m often sitting at a table at a mid-scale* restaurant.  My colleagues often come to me for restaurant recommendations, suggesting I either (a) have good taste or (b) have “restaurant butt.”  (Oddly, the Zagat guy once worked my firm.)

So what’s a young guy to do?  Unfortunately, ATL offers lots of snark but no easy answers.  Many of the commenters suggest the only way to smaller pants is a job at a smaller firm.  Maybe I could buy myself a treadmill desk?

Whatever.  I’m going to go have some cake.

-Michael

*I say mid-scale because they’re not quite upscale.  I do have law school loans, after all.