As a fat person you’re taught that no one will ever love you because of your size, and perhaps because of this I’d assumed that simply losing the weight would transform my love life overnight.
Like the fat was something apart from me, a temporary encumbrance around my inner, thinner self. The “true me” was somewhere inside, buried under all that flab. To this day I’m still trying to dig him out.
It was one thing, he felt, to ask society to make room for fat people, to treat them with as much compassion and respect as anyone else. But the movement as Emmett understood it wanted to take fat acceptance to a new level of delusion.
If I were thin, would I feel so ashamed of calling it quits? Or would I just chalk it up as a learning experience, count myself lucky for not wasting years of my life doing something I hated?