Remember that one time you went on a cruise and overheard your companions discussing bunk assignments? They didn’t know you could hear them recommending that you sleep on the bottom bunk because you might be too heavy for the top. Oh, and then you unexpectedly got your period, weren’t prepared for it, and had an overall miserable time on that god forsaken trip? Yeah that was lame.
And then there was that time you and your [fit and athletic, soccer-playing, marathon-running] friends decided to walk to that restaurant a mile and a half away. The walk there wasn’t so bad because it was mostly downhill. But on the way back, after stuffing yourself with bratwurst and beer, your feet were aching so much you thought they might be bleeding. You were wearing cushioned ballerina flats, for pete’s sake. When it was time to climb the last hill up the street, you simply couldn’t do it anymore and had to stop while insisting everyone go on and not wait for you. One of your friends stayed behind anyway and offered to walk home and drive back to pick you up. But no, you couldn’t make her do that. Despite her good intentions, it would only make you feel worse. You dug deep, walked up that hill, thoroughly mortified, thoroughly in pain, and thoroughly breathless.
Since you’re vertically challenged, you know how you have to sit pretty close to the steering wheel when you drive so that you can reach all three pedals? That pulls the seatbelt to its limit, so you had to find a seatbelt extension for your own car. Good thing you had power seats, so you could easily move yours backwards just so you could get in and out of your car without getting wedged between the wheel and seat. Let’s not even talk about the old race bucket seats you had in your other car. Pretty sure you had lumbar indentations on your hips for months.
Size 24 jeans. Remember those? How about being the heaviest person in your family? The heaviest person in most rooms. What about squeezing your bloated hobbit feet into size 8s and 9s when you’re really only a size 6 or 7?
Waiting for the slow, unstable elevator at work so you don’t have to walk up two flights of steps.
Buying your assistant Starbucks every day because you wanted coffee and a treat but didn’t want to walk across the street to do so. Not that the walk would have burned off the 400 calorie frappucino and 300 calorie pastry anyway.
The absolute, complete ignorance of the junk you put in your body, day in and day out. I cringe thinking about what your Weight Watchers tracker or My Fitness Pal diary would have said if you even attempted to write down what you ate every day.
One hundred and thirty five extra pounds on your body. Extra weight you forced your bones, joints, and heart to support.
48% of said body being pure fat.
Yeah, let’s not do that again, cool?
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