Call Me Fat
Ok, I’m fat. I know that!
I don’t care, except for putting on my shoes. Call me fat and I won’t be offended, because I am. I have this theory that people ought not to be offended by the truth about themselves.
I hate when I’m told that I’m addicted to food! Look, damn it, I’m not addicted to food – ok! What a damn fool idea! You may as well tell me I’m addicted to air. I tried to give up air once. It didn’t take very long before I was having intense withdrawal symptoms.
I don’t even like eating all that much. Eating requires getting up from my computer and doing stuff that I’m not much interested in anymore. After 20 years of cooking for a living it is sort of a been there done that thing. The same thing goes for taking a piss. Breathing I can do sitting right here, so I do it over and over again. Yet no one says, “hey you must be addicted to breathing!”
So go ahead and call me fat, but you better not tell me I’m addicted!