Fat of the Land

Earlier this week, I walked over to a nearby eatery to get some breakfast. As I reached the door of the establishment, I noticed a couple of women coming up behind me. Being the chivalrous fellow that I am, I held the door open for them and let them go before me.

Big mistake. They made a beeline for the counter, then stopped and started chatting with each other about something inconsequential. Then they checked their phones while the sole cashier looked apologetically at me.

A couple of minutes went by while these two women – who happened to be white and somewhat large – yattered on about something-or-other and tried to make up their minds about what they wanted to eat. I knew what I wanted. The cashier smiled at me, I nodded back.

Finally I could bear it no longer. I turned on my heel and left. No fuss, no bother, I just walked out, thinking to myself that these women had no business being in a restaurant unless they worked there, given the extra poundage that they were carrying.

In entirely unrelated news, I just realized that this week was Fat Shaming Week. Who knew?

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