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I was heavy-won't go so far as to say "fat", because, technically, I wasn't. But my knees blew out, my thighs played music when I walked and only pants with elastic in the waist felt ok.
I'd had enough, lost 45 lbs and developed total disgust for anyone who chose to waddle through life.
It's like my choice to smoke. It's hard to quit, really hard. But ultimately, it's been my choice to continue, knowing the health risks.
My best friend is overweight. Her thyroid gland is out of control and she's on meds for it. She's also on heart, blood pressure and cholesterol meds, mostly due to the thyroid problems. She struggles to lose, so she says, but I've seen her eat and she could chow a trucker under the table.
I've seen grossly obese people stand before me in fast food lines, order the full biggy sized meals, then get a diet coke. I'd guarantee they go home, wolf it all down, then whine how fat they are.
A friend of mine was asked by her doctor if she'd made her will as she will probably be dead in two years due to her morbid obesity. She had her stomach stapled, almost died while recooperating, but now she's a svelt size 2 and thrilled about it.
Sorry, but just as no one has sympathy for my bad health habits, I have no sympathy for the overweight. No one's born fat-it's acquired. And if your parents are fat, the chances of you being fat have as much to do with how they teach you to eat as much as the so-called "fat gene".
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