My Big, Fat, Fatty Rant

I'm sick to death of reading fat-phobic rants like this or this, especially when they dress themselves up in the moralistic robes of good dominance.

Guess what, fuckos? I'm fat.

I weigh somewhere in the neighbourhood of FattyFatFat pounds, and I wear clothes in a size NoOneWillEverLoveorDesireYou. I have lumps. I have curves. I have peaks and valleys in places where others are flat. I have a fascinating topography.

I'm done feeling bad about it, so you had better learn to deal. I earned every pound doing some hard fucking work, bearing my owner's children (3 of them in under 4 years, no less), and repeatedly clawing my way out of assfuckingly miserable depression.

You want to tell me that my weight is making me a repellant wreck, destined to die unpenetrated and diseased? Well, the regular and enthusiastic use the Captain makes of me begs to differ, as does the Edmonton Obesity Staging System.

You want to tell me I'm fat because I'm not serving my owner well enough? That "the pleasures of overeating and sedentary living take more priority than pleasing him?" That I'm "out of control in this way?"

Get.
Fucking.
Fucked.


Tell me I'm sedentary on the days that start at 6:30am, after 4 hours of broken sleep. Tell me I'm sedentary when I spend the whole day cooking, cleaning, running after children and running errands. Tell me I'm overeating when my calorie tracking program is telling me, in big red letters, that I have yet again failed to consume adequate calories for the day and I'm scrambling for a late-night snack that will put me where I need to be. Tell me I'm out of control as I measure portions, sweat during HIIT, go for an hour's walk in the cold and snow. Tell me I'm out of control as I spend yet another night poring over nutritional research so that I can plan cost-effective, nutritionally dense meals for my family.


What's that? It's okay? I get a pass from your scorn because I'm "doing something" about my weight?

Fuck you.


I work out for me. I work out because I want to give my body love and care. I work out because I prefer to be smaller. I sure as hell don't need your permission to inhabit this body, no matter what size it is. You're free to find me unattractive. I find offensive blowhards to be pretty repellant, myself. But you can take your opinions about whether my fatness is acceptable, fold them until they're all corners and shove them up your ass.


If I never lose a pound, if I never become a size that won't turn your stomach, or make you pity the poor Captain, or ever fit into my old clothes, I'll still treat my body with love. I'll still feed it good, healthy food. I'll still take it for walkies and make it push itself. And I'll know that I'm a pretty awesome person, which is more than I can say for you.