Yesterday I had a woman tell me I was fat. Today I had a doctor tell me if I cut back on the McDonald’s Sausage Burritos, it “wouldn’t be a bad thing, if you know what I mean”.
Do I look like this is something I don’t already know? Do you think if you point out that my girth is impressive, I might look down and have some epiphany that “Oh GOOD LORD, when did THAT happen?”. Come on.
Why do people feel the need to point out other people’s weaknesses and say they are “just trying to help”? Wouldn’t it be better served to point out someone’s strengths instead?
Of course, if we are going to try to spin the positive on this, maybe my girth IS my strength. I mean, just as ADD isn’t necessarily an evil, maybe fat isn’t either. I won’t blow away in a gale-force wind. I am harder to kidnap than your average soccer-mom. You can take one look at me and know I can cook like nobody’s business. Obviously my hugs are nice and soft and squishier than my bonier counterparts. You can bet my longevity will be cut short, and therefore I’ll use up less of this world’s resources. My husband can rest peacefully in the knowledge that the dogs aren’t going to come sniffing around his mate. If someone is hungry, you can bet there will be a munchie somewhere in my purse on any given day. And my car. And my coat pocket. (I don’t like to take chances.)
Fat is Fat. So what? So because my thighs rub together when I run, or jog, or walk, or even just cross my legs when sitting, they create enough friction heat to start a fire, does this make me a lesser person? So what if on the rollercoaster my side of the seat tilts precariously on the turns? Aren’t we confident in the abilities of our amusemant park engineers? So what if anytime I get into bed, everyone who is already in it…from Troy, to the kids, to the cats, roll towards me? Isn’t togetherness a good thing? Who doesn’t love a good cuddle with a fat woman?
“I want you to be healthy” says my loving husband. He wants me to live longer, and be by his side longer. I say I don’t want to live longer if I can’t have my Lindt Truffles, or my Rum Balls, or my McDonald’s sausage burritos! They give me joy! So what if I run out of breath coming up the stairs? Maybe I just need to pace myself!
So to the opinionated lady yesterday, and the doctor today, I say, I’m happy just the way I am, thanks. I’m not out to hurt anyone (unless they come between me and the food listed above). I’m just living my life. There is no need to be concerned if you see me coming. I won’t eat your lunch, or your children, or your pets. I can almost promise you that. You walk your road, I’ll walk mine, and we’ll get along just fine. And my road resembles a Candyland Board Game, which, in my opinion, ROCKS.
I get comments at the doctors like, “Do you exercise”? (NO). My comeback is that up to age 30, I weighed around 130 lbs. Do you know what 6ft 1in. looks like at 130lbs? My drill instructor in the army said I didn’t need camoflage training, all I had to do was to turn sideways. Iweigh 200 now and I’m comfortable.
If there is anyone who is the poster child for Insta Fat, it’s ME! I go to the gym three times a week, walk at lunch, and try to eat relatively healthy. What happens? I gain weight. When I tried to lower my cholesterol level by eating vegetables and more whole grains, what happened? My cholesterol went UP six points? Grrrrrrrr. The doctor said I should start taking the stairs at work. I work on the 11th floor!!! Have I lost a single pound since walking up 14 flights of stairs a day (3 are from the parking garage)? There is no rhyme or reason to the metabolism of a woman over 40. Everything just goes completely haywire. My belief is to just go with whatever your heart desires — rum balls, McDonald’s, pizza, Chinese, chocolate, Panera, etc. It will all even out in the end anyway, right?