Let me first tell you a tale of two roommates I got off craigslist. Yup. Craigslist.
I had been struggling with my mortgage ever since I bought my first home. I needed fast cash so I matched up with roomies on CL. I needed the money!
The first one was an obese male named Jason. I would come home and walk into the living room to find an open bag of refined sugar sitting by the couch with a spoon sticking out of it. It was surrounded by an open Papa John's pizza box with a cup of butter dip tipped over inside of it, jelly beans, the remote control, popcorn pops scattered across the carpet, and a travel-sized bottle of lotion (no, he wasn't putting the lotion in his mouth). The TV would be on and Jason would be in his room wheezing, coughing, and sneezing up a storm, taking deep gulps of air as if each breath would be his last.
I always feared that I'd arrive home one day to see his dead carcass on that couch.
I tried to help him. I gave him a simple diet to follow. I got him off soda (he drank a 6 pack of coke every day) and he lost about 20 lbs in 2 weeks flat. I offered to take walks with him. I always invited him to come with me while I walked my dog. He was content to sit there on his fat ass for the weekend and watch shows he had Tivo'd while working out of town the past week.
He had this disturbing ritual where he'd cover his face with a black blanket to block out any intruding ray of sunshine that might force open his eyes for a minute and make him acknowledge the world that was passing him by. Two years passed. Not one smile from him except for when he'd laugh at the TV.
He was a veritable mess.
I'm convinced a human being can't possibly eat the way he does and remain in a positive mental state. He had been diagnosed with clinical depression. Before he ever moved in with me he was dosing on a drug cocktail of approx 8 medications. In his office room I'd often notice 5 or 6 little orange bottles toppled over on his desk.
The worst part about his condition was that it made him hostile. He would slam doors, not communicate, reject offers to go out and socialize at the bars. He often threw things in anger, hollered at me for leaving out plates or not flushing the toilet after I took a piss. He argued with me over stupid shit, so I avoided him - for two years.
So you want to talk about fat prejudice? How could I not feel at least a tad bit resentful of fat people after watching this monster self-destruct up close and personal over a two year period? Two years of pure misery is a long time...
Then came Alexandra, a Miss Porter's boarding school graduate. Miss Porter's is a premiere all girls boarding school where the late Jackie Kennedy attended as a girl. It's one of the most prestigious prep schools in the United States. Alex's father was a retired Radiologist who had owned his own practice. She had inherited and blown through (she claims) close to 10 million dollars from when her mother passed away years before.
She was skinny (sick looking skinny) and thoroughly malicious towards other people. She hated people with a passion and fury like I've never seen in my life. It seemed like a lifelong attribute that just generally made her a crappy person. Every thought in her mind was negative. I know this because every word out of her mouth as a slam against someone, a disagreement of some sort or just a highly offensive way of dumping out her inner turmoil in spurts and spasms of raspy smoker shrieks.
Her nutrition was as poor as Jason's but on a much smaller scale. She ate just a bowl of cereal every morning and maybe a slice of pizza at night that she brought home from her waitress gig. She was a chain smoker, an alcoholic (in denial of couse) with multiple DUI's under her belt. She drove without a valid license. Her car was on its last leg (she bought it from a stranger on Craigslist). She was in debt to the IRS for $40,000 in back taxes she never paid on profits from inherited stock she sold to maintain her lavish lifestyle up until the bitter end - a two week period where she survived on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and pawned precious jewelry for pennies on the dollar. She had sold everything and had nothing. She wanted her status back. She wanted her beauty back. She was 31 and looked like she could be 50. The scars on her haggard face spoke of a car crash (probably drunk driving). Her father had cut her off. She frequented tanning beds after plastic surgery. The skin on her faced sagged, forming a perma-frown.
They had drastically different backgrounds and looked nothing alike body-fat wise.
Jason was pushing 300 lbs.
She was struggling to stay at 90 and her clothes drooped down from her limbs like when a boy raids his fathers closet in an attempt to proudly emulate him.
But the end realities they lived in remained eerily similar.
I guess I have to say that I'm not fat prejudice as much as I am prejudiced against people who abuse their own bodies. I find it offensive and have watched people suffer for it and bring suffering to other people around them because of it. As a human being it is damned near impossible to stand by passively as other people around you drown and dwindle into dust. This epidemic of poor health is a train wreck with derailed carts that come in all shapes and sizes.
I guess I'm just sick to death of seeing people sick, dying instead of living.
Maybe I just need some prescription meds, a swig of whisky, a drag of nicotine...and then I will feel like everybody else.
asked byBAMBAM (3313)
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