First Let Me Start With This, Fat People…

First just let me say, when I was organizing in Chicago…

Let me start off by mentioning, when I was First Lady…

First I would like to say, when I was Governor…

Let me just preface that with this, as a Senator I…

What is it with all the candidates during the debates always having to lead of with some tidbit about something they did way back when before semi-answering the question that was just posed to them.  I mean, for chrissakes, answer the question, don’t answer the question, it’s entirely up to the you.  But the preface to the answer is always actually part of the answer.  Stop prefacing, its irritating.

Anyway, onto other things.  The Metro, as you all know, is a constant source of amusement for me.  Today, there was a morbidly obese woman in one of those high-powered electric wheel chairs waiting at the platform that my train was pulling into.  There were a good six or eight feet between her and the doors.  After people exited the train, she floored her wheelchair (well, as much as you can floor a wheelchair) in an attempt to get onto the Metro.  Mind you, the entrance to the train car is generally about an inch higher than the platform.  But, I’ve seen many people in wheelchairs successfully get onto the Metro.  For whatever reason, I think the train was a little higher than usual.  So, when this woman, with a full head of steam tried to jump the small gap between the platform and train, her front tires hit the bottom of the entrance and she didn’t make it onto the train.  In fact, the wheelchair bounced back a few inches and, if it weren’t for her seatbelt, the woman very likely would have fallen out of her chair.

The woman quickly turned her chair and zoomed off after screaming a few unintelligible things.  An awkward hush fell over all the passengers as they all stared at their feet and tried to process what had just happened.  I bit my lip real hard to keep myself from cracking even the smallest smile.  I know, I know, you’re not supposed to laugh at handicapped people.  But, you know, its the little things that make life enjoyable.  Anyway, it seems the woman did manage to get onto the train because I saw her get off at my stop.

This got me to thinking, at some point on your way to morbid obesity, don’t you take a look at yourself and say, “shit, I’m fat, I need to lose weight,” and then go do something about it?  Let’s be honest.  At a certain point, these morbidly obese people repulse you.  I’m not talking about the run of the mill spare tire many Americans sport.  I’m talking about, the types of people that would be featured on TLC’s I Eat 33,000 Calories a Day.  If you’re shaking your head no, then you are full of shit.  You can’t tell me that, when you walk by someone who is confined to a wheelchair because their waist size is 3 times bigger than yours, you don’t think to yourself, “what the hell went wrong there?”  You’re at least a little embarrassed for the person.

I will concede that, to a point, certain people are genetically predisposed to being overweight.  But when you can’t walk up one flight of stairs without being out of breath, don’t you think its time to, at the very least, stop putting so much damn butter in your food and consult a nutritionist to make an attempt at losing some of that weight?  I mean, that would be like me getting lung cancer in 10 years and blaming it on the fact that I have a history of cancer in my family, completely ignoring the fact that I used to smoke regularly and still indulge in a cigarette now and then.  How about a little personal responsibility people?