fat

ACTING icon John Goodman says his dramatic weight loss hasn’t involved jabs, but that they would have been helpful in shedding the pounds.

The Hollywood star – known for sitcom Roseanne and movies The Big Lebowski and this year’s Tom Cruise flop Digger – has revealed his relationship with food had become “dangerous”, leading him to lose weight.

John, 74, has lost over 14 stone over the years, giving up booze, “forcing himself” to go to the gym, and undergoing stomach surgery.

Speaking to The Sunday Times’ Culture magazine, he spoke about his battle with alcohol, and how he treated food in the same way as he did booze.

“I was eating alcoholically – it was just something to up the ante.

“It was dangerous; my joints were shot from the weight I was carrying.”

IN RUINS

Devastating pics show LA celeb homes burned to ground including John Goodman’s

LOOKING ROSE-Y

John Goodman, 71, looks unrecognisable after Roseanne star sheds 200lbs

Asked whether he used weight loss jabs at all during his health journey – which started in 2007 after entering rehab, having started to drink behind-the-scenes on his acting projects – he admitted: “No, because it’s got to be co-ordinated with other things.

“But it would have been a godsend; they cut down on the addiction part and I understand it works for drinking as well.”

By 2023, he had dropped over 14 stone, but admitted: “I have to force myself [to the gym]. If it was just me, I’d skip it.”

John’s weight led to his need for two knee replacements, tipping the scales at 28.5 stone at his heaviest.

John’s size went hand-in-hand with his character on the sitcom Roseanne, in which he starred as Dan Conner, the husband of the titular character played by Rosanne Barr.

The show told the story of a working-class American family, with both Dan and Roseanne known for enjoying fast food and spending copious amounts of time on the couch.

The sitcom ran initially for nine seasons, from 1988 through 1997, before being rebooted in 2018 for one season (before writers killed off Rosanne’s character amid a real-life controversy, and continuing the show without her, rebranded as The Conners).

But between the show’s initial end, and the 2018 revival, John came to realise how his weight issues were causing problems in all areas of his life.

“It was 30 years of a disease that was taking its toll on everyone around me and it had got to the point where, every time I did it, it was becoming more and more debilitating.

“It was life or death… it was time to stop.”

He shed the first 100lb by 2010, totally ditching sugar and working out six days a week with Mackie Shilstone, known as tennis star Serena Williams‘ trainer.

The PT also placed John on a Mediterranean diet, and he was tasked with taking between 10,000 to 12,000 steps per day, using a treadmill, an elliptical trainer and walking his dogs.

Portions were reduced and slowly he was eased into low-intensity workouts, as well as boxing.

John was in London in September for the premiere of Digger, Tom Cruise’s latest film, in which he played the President of the United States opposite Tom’s oil magnate, Digger Rockwell.

IF Leonardo DiCaprio, a man who seems to have dated half the Victoria’s Secret catalogue, can’t whip his shirt off on a Hawaiian beach without critics likening him to a beached whale, what hope is there for the rest of us blokes?

The recent photos of Leo catching some rays sparked a frenzy of online trolling, with keyboard warriors gleefully pointing out that the actor – shock horror – no longer possesses the boyish physique he sported 30 years ago on the bow of the Titanic.

Apparently, we are now fair game and it’s open season on the male waistline. 

Leo’s holiday flab, the internet decided, was public property, ripe for mockery. 

They disparagingly call it the “Dad Bod” – even though Leo, as far as we know, has yet to produce any sprogs. 

It’s a term delivered with a patronising smirk, conjuring images of a bloke whose primary exercise consists of walking to the fridge between repeats of Top Gear.

But let’s pause for a second and reverse it. Would any sane person ever dream of pointing a camera at a woman on a beach and laughing at her “Mum Bod”?

You’d be cancelled in an instant with feminists queuing up to condemn you. 

Yet, when it comes to blokes, it seems the rules against bodyshaming don’t apply. 

Now, I’ll acknowledge the elephant in the room, women have put up with relentless, toxic body scrutiny for decades. 

But it’s the women in my life who have been most gleeful when scrutinising poor Leo.

It’s only fair they argue, after all 51-year-old Leo isn’t shy at letting his own preferences be known, dating a string of twenty-somethings who look like they’ve never consumed a carb in their short lives.

But underneath the jokes about Leo’s paunch, there is a serious side to all of this.

The pressure to look like a muscle bound Marvel actor is driving ordinary blokes to desperate measures – and contributing to poor male mental health.

Gym memberships are skyrocketing, not just because men suddenly care about their cardiovascular health, but because they are chasing the Hollywood aesthetic.

We are witnessing an epidemic of normal blokes turning to unregulated peptides and sometimes illegal supplements, desperately trying to keep up with the unachievable, steroid-assisted standards plastered across their Instagram feeds.

I’ll hold my hands up and confess I am one of the millions who has tried the fat jabs.

After years of miserable yo-yo dieting, I would always end exactly back where I started, so I finally caved and got on the Mounjaro.

The pharmaceutical quick fix certainly worked, helping me to lose a couple of stone within six months despite the dreaded side effects.

But despite my smaller frame – and annoyingly pricey new wardrobe to match – I still have to contend with the toxic pressure of the perfect body burrowed in my own brain.

And I’m far from the only one. Just look at the male celebs who are supposedly at the top of the food chain. 

Pop icon Robbie Williams has been open about his own torturous battle with his weight and his use of fat jabs, telling fans: “I could write a book about self loathing where my body image is concerned, like pure self hatred.

“The struggle is real. The sadness is shocking. I’ve had it all my life. And it won’t abate.”

James Corden has faced abuse from those obsessed with his waistline, even channelling his frustration with the industry into Nessa and Smith’s love story in Gavin & Stacey. 

He once said: “If an alien came back and they had to take a reading on planet Earth by just watching films or TV, they would imagine that if you are chubby or fat or big, you never really fall in love, you never have sex. Certainly no-one really ever finds you attractive.”

Even the supposed “hunks” are miserable. While Jason Momoa has shrugged off “Dad Bod” criticism, Zac Efron has spoken out about the severe dehydration and “pretty bad depression” he suffered to get his Baywatch body.

While Chris Pratt had to ditch his Parks & Rec “dad bod” to break Hollywood as the ripped Star-Lord in Guardians of the Galaxy.

But then found himself criticised for being too thin, forcing him to warn critics to back off: “Just because I am a male doesn’t mean I’m impervious to your whispers. Body shaming hurts.”

So it’s little wonder that the next generation of young men are endlessly preening themselves in the mirror. 

They call it looksmaxxing, a dystopian online cult where young lads obsess over every facet of their appearance to fit a very specific alien-like visage.

We have genuinely reached a point where an influencer known as Clavicular, literally smacks himself in the face with a hammer in a bid to attempt to reshape his jawline, and is watched in this mindboggling process by millions of impressionable youngsters. 

We have created a world where teenage boys are learning that blunt-force facial trauma is preferable to looking like a normal human being.

It’s time to call time on the madness.

If the price of a Hollywood physique is a lifetime of misery, macros counting, and taking a hammer to your own cheekbones, you can count me out.

Let’s leave Leo to enjoy his Hawaiian holiday in peace, and please give us blokes a bloody break too.