It seems we can't even rely on our best friends to tell us when it's time to quit the cupcakes.Well, I can't speak for the theoretical "morbidly obese Jenny," but I can speak for the "morbidly obese Liss," (who happens to prefer Lady Chub of Flabberton, thank you very much): I've noticed that I'm fat.
Am I the only one who thinks that's a crying shame? Whenever I watch TV diet programmes I am amazed that nobody has actually sat down with morbidly obese Jenny and had a word with her.
Did no one notice?
And, yes, concerned family members and friends observed I was getting fatter along the way. As have countless strangers, who have considerately expressed to me "it's time to quit the cupcakes" with disgusted glances, loudly-whispered judgments, comments about what I should or shouldn't be eating, nasty slurs, and literally mooing at me. Not to mention the backhanded compliments like expressed surprise that I can walk long distances, rollerskate, or have such a good relationship with a nice husband who treats me well. (Because fat girls don't deserve that, of course. And couldn't possibly be happy, even if they have it.)
No one, no one, looks like me and doesn't know they're fat. No one who looks like me has escaped being told they're fat, in a thousand different ways.
And anyone who can possibly think otherwise is an ignorant ass.
Who's probably too busy "helpfully" reminding fat people that they're fat for any reality about fat people's lives to penetrate hir ignorant bigoted yammering fat-hating head.