I try not to flip my shit in public
but for this absolute bullshit, I will make an exception. If you don't want to hear this, you don't have to read it, and it's not like I'm going to know. Everyone has things that set them over the deep end; this is mine.
Fuck you very much. Because ostracism and exclusion solve so much in this world already. Because obesity and comfort in one's own skin and being a beautiful person all equate to the numbers on the scale and on the BMI chart. Because so many people who are obese are suffering from something far, far more complicated than not knowing when to stop, something tied in with socioeconomics and poverty and social class and opportunity and mental health. Because there's not enough humiliation to go around.
And you know what? The point about the societal cost of obesity? Fine. True, even. But I won't be debating it with you.
Tonight? Thanks to a confluence of stupidities and hormones, tonight, I'm taking it personally. Because I'm tired of having to make allowances for the fucktards of the world, and this is just the END.
Let me tell you a bit about me.
I am nearly twenty-nine. I weigh three hundred and seventy-five pounds, and I have been significantly overweight as long as I can remember. I have issues, mental and physical, tied to my weight, and it's unlikely, even if I lose weight, that I will ever shed their residue. You look at me, Rep. Mayhall, and all you see is a burden.
Look again, asshole.
I was class president twice in high school. I held leads in the school plays. I sang in the choir. I was the youth representative for my church. I earned fully paid scholarships to college, to policy school, and to law school. I stage-managed on the weekends. I earned the highest award my large state school offers a member of its graduating class. I speak fluent Spanish. I can be gorgeous, given motive and a hairbrush.
I love Shakespeare more than breathing and have made Andre Braugher and Lady Bird Johnson laugh. I earned a clerkship with a federal judge. I work for a major law firm. I have worked for NASA. I have ridden in New Orleans St. Patrick's Day parades and thrown cabbages. I learned how to shoot a gun from the Girl Scouts. I have climbed mountains and I've gone swimming in waterfalls. I've set foot on the Great Wall. I do not think that life is fair, and I think it is our job to change that as much as we can, with the talents we have.
I have dressed up my dog and walked through the French Quarter for the joy of Mardi Gras. I have fallen down hills covered in sheep poop and had a great time doing it. I volunteer. I love to write. I love to sing. I knit slowly. I have never been kissed, and if it happens, great - if not, I am happy in my life.
I love escapist television and bubble gum pop and the Muppets. I want to lose weight. I love my family more than I can express and am so lucky in my friendships that I have found a -second- family. I plant trees, and pick flowers. I love clothing and haircuts and jewelry. I am stubborn, I am funny, I am a slob, I am bitchy, I am loyal, and I am, on frequent occasion, a flake. I am going to find a way to change the world one day.
But to you, I am a burden, and your putative answer is to shut doors in my face and to exclude. I don't care if you don't think the bill will pass - the point is that you would be happy if it did.
I am imperfect. I am fucking awesome. I have untold possibilities living inside of me. So does every person, and it doesn't matter what they look like or where they come from or how they got to where they find themselves. Yes, the world has problems. Yes, there are things to be fixed. But any solution that achieves its goal - any goal - by making someone - anyone, for any reason - feel like less than what they could be is no kind of solution at all.
And if you do shut that door? I'll goddamn well kick it down.
In short, dear sir, go to hell.
Fuck you very much. Because ostracism and exclusion solve so much in this world already. Because obesity and comfort in one's own skin and being a beautiful person all equate to the numbers on the scale and on the BMI chart. Because so many people who are obese are suffering from something far, far more complicated than not knowing when to stop, something tied in with socioeconomics and poverty and social class and opportunity and mental health. Because there's not enough humiliation to go around.
And you know what? The point about the societal cost of obesity? Fine. True, even. But I won't be debating it with you.
Tonight? Thanks to a confluence of stupidities and hormones, tonight, I'm taking it personally. Because I'm tired of having to make allowances for the fucktards of the world, and this is just the END.
Let me tell you a bit about me.
I am nearly twenty-nine. I weigh three hundred and seventy-five pounds, and I have been significantly overweight as long as I can remember. I have issues, mental and physical, tied to my weight, and it's unlikely, even if I lose weight, that I will ever shed their residue. You look at me, Rep. Mayhall, and all you see is a burden.
Look again, asshole.
I was class president twice in high school. I held leads in the school plays. I sang in the choir. I was the youth representative for my church. I earned fully paid scholarships to college, to policy school, and to law school. I stage-managed on the weekends. I earned the highest award my large state school offers a member of its graduating class. I speak fluent Spanish. I can be gorgeous, given motive and a hairbrush.
I love Shakespeare more than breathing and have made Andre Braugher and Lady Bird Johnson laugh. I earned a clerkship with a federal judge. I work for a major law firm. I have worked for NASA. I have ridden in New Orleans St. Patrick's Day parades and thrown cabbages. I learned how to shoot a gun from the Girl Scouts. I have climbed mountains and I've gone swimming in waterfalls. I've set foot on the Great Wall. I do not think that life is fair, and I think it is our job to change that as much as we can, with the talents we have.
I have dressed up my dog and walked through the French Quarter for the joy of Mardi Gras. I have fallen down hills covered in sheep poop and had a great time doing it. I volunteer. I love to write. I love to sing. I knit slowly. I have never been kissed, and if it happens, great - if not, I am happy in my life.
I love escapist television and bubble gum pop and the Muppets. I want to lose weight. I love my family more than I can express and am so lucky in my friendships that I have found a -second- family. I plant trees, and pick flowers. I love clothing and haircuts and jewelry. I am stubborn, I am funny, I am a slob, I am bitchy, I am loyal, and I am, on frequent occasion, a flake. I am going to find a way to change the world one day.
But to you, I am a burden, and your putative answer is to shut doors in my face and to exclude. I don't care if you don't think the bill will pass - the point is that you would be happy if it did.
I am imperfect. I am fucking awesome. I have untold possibilities living inside of me. So does every person, and it doesn't matter what they look like or where they come from or how they got to where they find themselves. Yes, the world has problems. Yes, there are things to be fixed. But any solution that achieves its goal - any goal - by making someone - anyone, for any reason - feel like less than what they could be is no kind of solution at all.
And if you do shut that door? I'll goddamn well kick it down.
In short, dear sir, go to hell.