Summertime Sniping

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Les chuchoteuses by Rose Aimée Boulanger in Montreal, Canada (via Google)

Last week at some point a horrible woman wrote a newspaper article about fat people. I won’t link to it, nor will I utter her name because frankly, I feel like contributing to any publicity for her is what she wants, even if it is negative. At this point I can’t even bring myself to slag her off.

As my nasty ex’s great-grandmother used to say, you just have to feel sorry for people like that.

But. In her article, said woman calls out three “size 18, at least” girls for having the audacity to stand in front of her at the airport and not be ashamed of who they are. Oh, did I not point out that all three were “fat, not chubby” and seemed “unconcerned” about their apparent hideousness? I think they might even have been – whisper it – laughing together like they were happy.

Not one of them had the common decency to be covered from head to toe in black, instead choosing to rock a colourful Summer wardrobe.

Say whut?!

The Fattist let’s call her, for she is a ‘self-confessed Fattist’, seems to think that the world should fall in line with what she deems attractive. This to me is like throwing shade on every man and boy with a naked chin.

Apparently, TF has a weight and size restriction on the things she will tolerate and anybody who doesn’t fall in line with this will pay the price. By being slagged off in a national paper (if indeed you can call it that).

Anyway, she’s obviously just ‘being honest’ and speaking out of ‘concern’ for these poor, disgusting creatures right?

The thing is, she could be talking about me. I’m a size 18. Sometimes smaller, sometimes bigger but I’m that size generally. Should I be covering up for fear of upsetting poor souls like TF? Am I that revolting that I should be considering hibernation?

I hate the whole thing. Yes, it is okay for you to have your own personal tastes. Your opinion is yours. If you really feel that way and think that these abominations are seriously harming their health by eating badly and not exercising, fine. But keep it to yourself.

For a start you don’t know what these girls eat (besides the ‘I kid you not’ bag of crisps they munched while waiting to check in their luggage. On a holiday! The horror!). You sure as shit don’t know what exercise they do on a day-to-day basis. Not all fit people are thin and vice versa.

I’m hardly the template for healthy living but apart from cake too many times a week, I watch my calorie intake and workout at least twice a day for 30-40 minutes. It’s ignorant to assume things when you don’t know.

What seemed to perplex her so much more than the ‘dimpled thighs’ and ‘rolls of fat’ hanging over the tops of their vests was the fact that all three girls seem to be living life without being self-conscious. Again, how dare you, girls? Come on, now – self-hatred is the only obvious state for you, duh.

Personally, if the world were full of more people like those three and less like TF in her size 8-10 dress, I think it might be a better place.

And, while we’re at it, I’d give up the notion of ever being thin for genuine self-acceptance. I think we can all learn from these beastly rule breakers in their Summer gear, pissing off strangers without even realising it.

Now, hand me the motherf**king crisps, bitch!

Please note: I may have paraphrased a tad throughout this post but you get the gist.

To Drink or Not to Drink, It’s None of Your Beeswax!

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Photograph does not belong to me

For a long time I didn’t drink at all. I fended off no end of “You’re so boring” comments, dealt with the distrust of the drinkers around me – stayed clear headed on every night out I went on, despite the highly amusing peer pressure (turns out it still exists in your thirties).

There was no specific reason for not drinking alcohol. Not health, nor allergy or recovery. Definitely not because I was Straight Edge. I just didn’t want to.

People’s reactions to what I put in my glass were the best thing about it, that and the absence of hangover at all times.

But then, I started to drink. Again, for no good reason; simply because I chose to. That’s the beauty of it, it was only ever because I did or didn’t want to.

It’s really cute though when people are all “But YOU DON’T DRINK!” when I order Vodka. It’s like they finally got to a comfortable level with my drinking and now can’t compute that it’s changed again.

It will most probably change back.

If I’m honest, I don’t like spending my cash on something I can’t eat or wear. Spending £50 (even £20) isn’t an option for me of a Friday night. I’ll always chose something better than booze but… I like the odd drink.

I like a cocktail. I prefer Tea.

But what I really enjoy is the choice. To drink or not to drink, that is the question that nobody but me should care about.

Stop trying to label me, hardcore drinkers! I’ll do what I want, thanks.