The Mentality Of Fat.

Here’s the thing I don’t think n people get about being fat; even though I walk around, on average, at 300 pounds, I am not fat until you tell me I am. Don’t get me wrong; I will still have the cellulite, I will still be unhealthier than I should be, I will still be heavy. But it isn’t until the world makes me aware of my bulk that I take issue with it. Fat can catch you by surprise like that.

I think that’s one of the issues, we have a world that wants everyone to be excruciatingly conscious of their size. Telling someone their fat isn’t just a big-boned-joke or a poke in the belly, it’s every time people who look like them aren’t on television, it’s every time they get a double take that somehow doesn’t feel flattering, it’s a myriad of things that range from the nearly imperceptible, to phrases like “Chubby Chaser”.

Weight has always been a staggering complex issue for me. Nobody should feel uncomfortable in their skin, and nobody should be made to feel like their appearance makes them less than anyone else. That’s fact, and it applies to any and all deviations from humanities aesthetic norm. Fat though, as someone who has been that way their whole life, seems to exist in a bizarre ideological grey area.

I think the issue is that fat, unlike so many other attributes a person might, is, at least at first glance, indicative of character. When I meet people there is an assumption of lethargy, there is an immediate portrayal of myself as a man of low-ambition. How true these things may be is irrelevant, my shape is saying things before I do, and in a way, it makes sense. I think that’s the hardest part for so many people, that at the end of the day, no matter how much love for self you have(and I encourage this in every way possible), obesity in any of its forms, is unhealthy.

No don’t misunderstand me, there are so many exceptions to this rule, and I don’t want to paint anyone a certain way without attempting to understand their story. At the same time, I have seen, experienced, and heard countless stories of people with heavy relatives, who regardless of their confidence, and despite their comfort with their body, still died of something preventable. That’s whats so hard to reconcile, whats so hard to really fathom, that for most people obesity is simultaneously just another thing about them, but still at the end of the day, a disease.

Maybe I’m not the person to exposing this philosophy. I have tried diet, and I have tried exercise, and I have lacked the perseverance to truly follow through with either of them. Maybe, hopefully, someday soon I will. But at the end of the day, being fat is something I am doing to myself, and that’s the dark, challenging truth of it; it is a self-inflicted sickness (this is in my case, I’m sure there are people who defy this statement). I am comfortable in who and what I am, don’t misunderstand that, but I also know I would be healthier, and feel better where I not this way.

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