Leftist commentary from a mouthy bitch

Sometimes I just want to get to work.

Yup, still fat.

First, I’m wondering if there’s an asshole convention here in town, because after months of nothing, I catch fat-hating bullshit twice in three days.  What the hell?

So, I ride the bus.  I ride the bus because it is cheaper than driving with gas and the exorbitant prices they charge for parking at my job, and the fact that work subsidizes my bus pass.  Also, I kind of like the walk to and from the bus stop, as long as it isn’t bitter cold or raining hard enough to soak through my hoodie.  (I live in Seattle, and have lived here long enough to not own an umbrella.)

What I don’t like about the bus are the other riders a lot of the time.  It’s a really busy/popular route, and is often crowded.

Did I mention I’m fat?

Because apparently this is a heinous sin on the bus this week.  And the thing I don’t get is, why are you people pissed off at me for taking up my seat (no, I don’t spill over, I’ve checked), and not at the obnoxious Dude-bro suffering from Phantom Giant Schlong syndrome, who’s sprawled over two seats?  Seriously, me trying to be very small, making sure I don’t take up more than what I’m “allotted” is this blight on humanity, while the clueless douche wearing the Dude-bro national uniform is totally fine.

So, I survived that simply by out scathing the scathing looks Captain Passive-Aggressive gave me, refrained from doing my best Joe Peschi imitation at him, and went back to my phone game.  And yes, pretty, conventionally thin lady who finally sat next to my atrocious fat, I understand, you don’t want to touch Sporto the Clam Head, great.  This does not mean you get to be offended that you can’t encroach on my seat because my ass is there.  Suck it up.

Then this morning, I’m on the bus, sitting across from the two very slender, conventionally attractive women, and about halfway through the ride I realize they’re pointing at the size of my lunch bag and snickering.


So I weigh the options of having a confrontation and teachable moment with the brain donors, versus, getting to work with a minimum of fuss and aggravation.

I chose option B.  Primarily because I didn’t want to have to deal with any condescending “Good for you!” if I told them what was in that GINORMOUS lunch bag:  a salad, a pear, and a half cup of yogurt.

Yeah, the size of my lunch bag is why I’m such a cow.

I hate people so hard.

All of this is coming in the middle of a bunch of budget upsets at work, which probably has me more sensitive to this shit than usual.  I mean, usually I can either blow it off, or make a snide comment, and be done with it.  But when I’m already stressed out, it gnaws.  And one comment or nasty look can just ruin my whole day.

I’m trying to let it go, but… GAH!

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This entry was posted on January 28, 2011 by in Fat, Featured Articles, HAES, It's All About Me.

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