Thursday, June 26, 2008

Chew on This

Here’s a love letter wrapped into an acronym for all you people who want to tell me the best ways to lose weight: STFU.

Yeah, you heard me.

I know you mean well. I know you think you’re just trying to help. But trust me – you’re not. Not at all. Especially when every bit of the “knowledge”, “information”, “suggestions”, “guidelines”, and, god help us, “wisdom” you have to share with me I’ve already heard, read, seen, researched, and known for years. Don’t tell me these things because I ALREADY FUCKING KNOW THEM. I’m 32 years old. I’ve been fat for 2/3 of my life. Do you not think I’ve dieted over the years? Do you not think I’m aware of the fact that my appearance and my weight are pretty much socially unacceptable and hold me back from having a life that’s just like every other “normal” weight, skinny person’s? Do you not think I’ve researched the situation to death, tried everything I could find, done all I can do? Oh, wait, of course not – I’m still fat. If I knew all the magical shiny information you keep in your brain filed under the tab WEIGHT LOSS, I’d immediately become thin. Christ.

Hey – do you really think you’re going to help? Or do you just want to show off how much interesting crap you’ve gathered in your little brain on the subject of weight loss? Let me tell you, I already know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me that starving myself doesn’t do me any good. That I need to eat six small meals a day and control my calorie intake steadily over the hours I’m awake. You’re going to give me that bullshit about how a pound equals 3500 calories and if I can just cut 500 calories out of my daily intake, I can lose one pound a week with regular exercise. You’ll say that I need to drink lots of water, around eight glasses a day or so. You’re going to tell me that I need to get plenty of sleep, because that’s when the body regenerates itself and does the most weight loss. You’re going to say protein is my best friend when I’m dieting, and I should exercise regularly (walking’s great! Don’t forget walking!) and take weight lifting slowly and eat lots of fiber. Oh yeah, and you’re going to sanctimoniously offer with a placatory smile that I can give myself a little treat every now and again, as long as I don’t go overboard. Because it’s all about a lifestyle change, right? Hallelujah! Praise Jeeeeeeeezus! A LIFESTYLE CHANGE! Witness, witNESS!! Can I get an AMEN! Can I get a HALLELOOOOOOOJAH!! I’m fucking saved from the ranks of the fat-tasmagoric! Thank Christ for lifestyle changes!!!

Those nuggets of information are only a sample of all the ridiculous amount of garbage I’ve ingested about weight loss over the years. There’s not a diet I haven’t read about. There’s not a weight loss tidbit you can tell me that I can’t already quote chapter and verse. I’m informed. I’m in the know. I am completely aware of how it works, what it does, why I should or shouldn’t do it. I don’t need YOU to tell ME how to lose weight. If I wanted a personal trainer, I’d go pay for one. Since I didn’t give you any money to help me lose weight, SHUT YOUR FUCKING FACE.

You may not have come to terms with this yet, but some people, many people are just fat. Like some people, many people are just thin. And all manner of weights in between. I got the shit end of the gene stick. I know I’ll never be svelte and beautiful, at least not by society’s traditional standards. And that’s ok. I don’t need to justify myself to anyone, least of all to you. Unfortunately, I’m going to be fat forever. But the way I look at it is, I’d rather be fat forever and a relatively cool person who respects other people’s boundaries than AN ASSHOLE THAT PREACHES GARBAGE TO PEOPLE WHO DON’T WANT OR NEED TO HEAR IT.

So. Yeah. When it comes to weight loss, when I want your opinion, I’ll ASK FOR IT. Don’t volunteer it. Because I’m done being nice. I’ll either stick my fingers in my ears and say LALALALALALALALALALALALA until you get the point or I’ll just tell you, in no uncertain terms, to shut the fuck up or fuck the fuck off. As an old friend once said… “You have two choices: shut the fuck up, or blow me. Either way, you stop fucking talking.”

4 Comments:

At 1:08 AM, Blogger Jenny said...

So I thought that I should tell you I read your blog sometimes, and what better time. Because, literally, I am sitting here eating a piece of cake you made, and it's delicious.

Hehe.

 
At 5:11 PM, Blogger B Matthews said...

Wooooo!! Thanks man! I'm so glad you like it! Wanna starter for yourself?

And thanks for reading my blog. ;-)

 
At 10:05 AM, Blogger David E. Galloway said...

I wanted to ring in with some support and sympathy. I've been fat since five years old and I'll be 30 in November. Sucks, doesn't it?

I absolutely hate it when people define me based on my size. I know people don't mean any harm when they call me Big Dave or Big D, and because of this I don't say anything, but I consider it akin to calling a dwarf Little Bobby or whatever the dwarf's name might be.

Sorry for crapping all over your rant. Carry on. :)

D.

 
At 11:51 AM, Blogger B Matthews said...

You're not crapping on my rant, you're just giving out a hearty "hear, hear!". And you can do that ANYtime.

I know what you mean - have you noticed I never put the adjective "big" in front of your name? ;-)

Often people who don't know me immediately dismiss me either because of my size or because I'm so obviously a lesbian... it gets old after a while. I have to work harder than everyone else to make friends, and I don't mind that so much most of the time, because it means that those friendships are all the stronger for it, but at the same time, it gets really, really old after a while. Sometimes I wish that the whole world was just living in a big dark room. But then... I guess we kind of already are.

 

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