Maybe I'm only noticing this because I'm fighting my own weight-loss battle now: I just watched an enormous woman load eight pieces of fried chicken into a paper box, waddle over to a table and chow down.
I'm sorry. This is so insensitive. I don't usually point out the fatness of others, not just because it's mean but also out of some karmic fear that for every snide remark God, or the chubby angels in charge of these things, will visit another pound upon mine ample ass.
But I have to rant. This chicken lady, she was hauling a trailer and it was slowing her down. Worse yet she was wearing scrubs, which means that even if she isn't a doctor she works in the medical field. Even the Hamburgler would have to be living under a rock in another galaxy not to have heard by now that obesity kills. I know the chicken tastes good. I'm no angel, I love brownies and I struggle with my weight. But I refuse to believe that woman loves her chicken wings more than she loves herself.
I guess the wakeup call comes to different people at different times: Like in the closet when your fat pants won't close (that was my moment)... when the doctor tells you you've got warning signs for diabetes (that did it for my best friend)... when you haven't left the house for three years... You can only push your body so far. Once you get to the morgue, there's no more waking up.
My grandfather, while not a "fat man," tended toward roundness. Even after three bypass surgeries we sometimes had to wrestle the poundcake out of his doughy hand. In the end it worked out for the best: His heart killed him before his prostate cancer had a chance.
I'm not sure what my point is. Maybe just to reiterate my long-held belief that denial is the most powerful force in the universe.
In conclusion: Eat your vegetables, people. They could save your life.