“But…aren’t you concerned about your health?”
No.
I’m not.
To be frank, I don’t care if I drop dead before the end of this post.
When it comes to death, the only thing I fear is pain; I do not like pain, but other than that, I do not care if I die, even if it is sooner rather than later.
I mean…why should I? Why would I?
The world is filled with people who hate me simply because of my body’s size/shape. The world is filled with people who would be completely happy with me starving/purging myself into a size/shape they deem appropriate…so long as I keep it secret and they can say I’m losing weight to be “healthy.” The world is filled with people who refuse to do research into “the whole fat acceptance thing” (or even take in said research when it’s researched and laid out for them.) The world is filled with people who, with one look at me, label me lazy/smelly/lacking willpower/ugly/gross/clumsy/easy/a burden on the economy/trying too hard/not trying hard enough or, perhaps most annoying of all, pretty…for a fat girl.
So, again, no, I am not concerned about my health, and, more importantly, neither are you. You don’t want me to be healthy, you want me to be your idea of attractive/fuckable, and therefore worth something, and I hereby reject the shit out of that.
Fuck you and your fat hatred/phobia/whatever the hell your issue is. I will not spend another millisecond loathing myself because you think I should. I will live and love my life, and whether or not I choose to be healthy will be my business. I suggest you go and mind yours.
PS: Thanks for contributing to my fucked up mental health with your fat stigma. I know you probably forgot about mental health when you chimed in about my weight, but hey, I get it, the only health that matters is the health you can see!
