It Sucks To Be Fat

I can’t hide from the facts any longer. I needed to take a plane to get to where I was going. Because of my weight, one plane ticket would not be enough, I had to pay for two. I would not be allowed to fly if I didn’t fork over the money. It was completely unfair, but I didn’t have a choice. So I gave them the money and called the airline a bunch of names under my breath. It isn’t my fault that I’m fat.

Despite my bad feelings I headed towards the plane waiting area, but not before picking up a tray of nachos to drown my sorrows in. What gave them the right to tell me I was too big. I decided to grab a magazine to read while I was waiting and picked one up at the newsstand and started to read it while I drank my supersized soda only to notice all types of ads touting products that promised to show me how to lose weight fast. What were they trying to tell me? I don’t have a problem with the way I look. I have a mirror that I look in every day. But just because I know about it, doesn’t give other people the right to make judgments about it, that’s up to me.

The rest of my flight was uneventful, and once I found a cab drive who had a big enough car, I made my way to my hotel. During the ride, I noticed all the great places to eat that were advertised on billboards and began to think about which ones I would go to. I had done my research at home and knew where the best places to eat were. My plan looked like an all you can eat restaurant that had every kind of food imagineable. I was going to have a good time and I wasn’t too worried about finding time in my day to do my six pack ab exercises along with all of the other exercises I avoid on a daily basis. I had heard that nobody could serve food like they do here and I was not to be stopped in my efforts to check it out. I would leave no dinner roll unturned.

I got up the next morning to head to an all you can eat buffet which tasted great, but I kept getting weird stares from the management as I kept making my way back to the buffet table. Something had gone wrong but I was unsure what it was. Does my weight have anything to do with it? I didn’t think this was the reason and blamed the restaurant that I was in for my problem. It was never my fault before, so it can’t be my fault now. I had been online plenty of times reading how other people have all sorts of issues with their excess weight on discussion forums such as the biggest loser forum, but I wasn’t like the rest of those people. I know that I am not obese.

The rest of my trip was uneventful, except for a short trip to the emergency room for shortness of breath, but they let me go so I was fine. I was not surprised that I had to purchase an extra ticket again to get home, but I was happy to be in the comforts of my own home. I was always able to fit in all of the furniture at my house and never had a problem with it breaking. I don’t recall anything until I heard some man asking my name and recognized him as a doctor because of the stethoscope dangling around his neck. I was told that I had a heart attack while I was at home. A neighbor had come into my home and saw my and quickly dialed 911 to save my life. I told the doctor I was only forty five years old and too young to have a heart attack. He looked at me and said it was probably due in part to my being obese. It was like a slap in the face to hear a doctor tell me I was fat. I think I was finally coming to the revelation that it sucks to be fat.