Fat shaming

“Hey stick, don’t turn sideways or we won’t be able to see you.”

Har, har, har.

How I wish that I had remarks like that tossed my way, but that was not to be.

I am going in a few directions in this post, starting in the middle.  I am doing that because I feel it works better that way.  Let’s start with an occurrence twenty years ago.  My uncle asked that I drive two hours to his house to load tax software on his computer, and then help him actually run the program.

As noon time approaches, my uncle steps into the kitchen to prepare lunch.  He brings out a plate with exactly HALF  a sandwich for me.

“You need to lose weight so I made you half a sandwich”, he stated.

I stared at my uncle for a few moments, then said the following…

“You know, Uncle Jus, I feel sad that you and Aunt Barb are so poor that you are forced to do what you just did.  I am going to step out for awhile and get a real lunch.”

Uncle Jus attempted to reply but I waved him off.  I went out, came back in two hours, finished my job without saying a word, then  left.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Starting at the age of five, my weight was an issue in my life.  And except for a period of about 15 years, from the ages of fifteen to thirty, it always has been a struggle.

And do people make nasty comments?  It has to be in the millions.  Kids, of course.  But perhaps as many adults, who must feel SOMEHOW that they are being helpful.

Up until recently, I accepted every insult without saying a word in reply.  Then my son directed me toward a Netflix video that addressed, among other things, the impact of fat shaming on kids.  As you might guess, positive things don’t happen.  Low self esteem and, often, worse eating habits result.

So now, after 65 years, I no longer accept fat shaming insults.  If someone drops that bomb on me, I respond by dropping a bigger bomb on them.  And it ain’t even close.

And I respond with a smile on my face and a pat on the back.  But know this, these fucking idiots get the message.   Don’t try that shit with me.

So what am I doing now?  The good news is that I meet with a personal trainer three times a week and he KICKS MY BUTT.  He warned me, however, that with increased workout would come increased appetite, and he was absolutely right.

So I still struggle with the intake.

But I need to take care of my body for the following reason-  every vital sign and bloodwork result is perfect.  Even though I have not been good to me, my body has been.

So succeed I will.

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