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Why I’ll never be cool with the fat acceptance movement.

16 June 2014, Monday Leave a comment

So this is probably going to get me a lot of grief, but I’m just going to go ahead and say it. I’m prejudiced against fat people. Now before you start banging out that hate mail, hear me out. There’s a couple of things I have to explain.

First of all, When I say “fat people” I don’t mean slightly chubby or tubby-because-you’re-so-busy-you-haven’t been-taking-proper-care-of-yourself fat. I mean obese people.

obese
ə(ʊ)ˈbiːs/
adjective
  1. grossly fat or overweight.

Secondly, we come to the reason why I find obesity so unacceptable. Barring strange medical conditions such as hyperthyroidism or Chushing’s syndrome, obesity is almost entirely self inflicted. Yes, that’s right. You are responsible for the condition of your body. No one else is. The mass that has accumulated on your frame did not magically appear out of thin air. You put it there. When I see a “large” person, I can’t help but start trying to figure out how many chicken wings, sodas and burgers it took them to get to their present mass.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have a sweet tooth too, and I blessed with an active metabolism. I enjoy the occasional binge, but I also have a condition that requires that I watch what I eat. Obesity is a disease, and the easiest cure is to watch what you eat and how you eat it.

Third. We are evolutionarily conditioned to pick the “fittest” partner to mate with in order to have the most genetically successful offspring. Being obese does not give prospective mates the impression of being the fittest available option. This is the point which is most intrinsic to the prejudice against fat people.

Being obese implies that you might be sedentary or have self-control problems. Being obese means that you might have low willpower or are fulfilled by the instant gratification that a quick food fix might bring. Or as I mentioned before, being obese could mean you are suffering from a rare and debilitating medical condition that could potentially be passed on to your offspring. Being obese also comes with the usual assorted secondary conditions such as heart and blood pressure problems and other more serious conditions as the obesity becomes more morbid.

There was a period of time in China where fat people were considered prosperous and therefore attractive. Being fat in China at the time meant that you were wealthy because you could afford to eat beyond excess and not have to do any manual labour (exercise) because you could afford servants. This is an outdated social perception than no longer applies today. Nowadays, if you want people to think that you’re rich, you drive a Mercedes and wear a Rolex. Arguments against this point should also consider that well-to-do Chinese folks at the time also kept ridiculously long and impractical fingernails to show that they literally didn’t have to lift a finger around the house. Good luck bring that back in style.

Bottom line. Obesity is a disease. Being fat is not “beautiful”, it is not attractive. It is a sign of a self-abuse. It is a serious and real medical condition. The most disheartening part of all this is that there are people who are trying to make obesity acceptable. Yes, we are responsible for the condition of our bodies and no one should have any say as to what we do with them. And yes, there aren’t any laws regulating body weight or shape or size. But there aren’t any laws preventing self mutilation either, and the social stigma attached to that is almost indistinguishable to obesity to me.

So, no. I do not “accept” fat people, any more than I “accept” people with serious medical conditions. And that’s why I’ll never be cool with the fat acceptance movement.

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Friendship street

20 May 2009, Wednesday 2 comments

Friendship is like a street. It is a street that exists between 2 people. It runs from the front door of one person, all the way to the front door of the other person. It connects people to each other. In order for this street to function however, it must be walked on, it must be traveled upon. It requires both parties to place their feet upon it and seek the other. In some cases, the path is so rarely taken that it becomes overgrown and unrecognizable. And difficult to navigate.

In some cases, the road is well worn and comfortable to travel both ways. Both parties familiar with the sights along the way. In some cases, it’s always one person who walks down the friendship street, this goes on until they get tired or fed up of always being the one doing all the walking, then stops walking down the street altogether. Then when the other person wonders where they’ve gone and go looking for them, they realize that they don’t know the way because they never walked down the street to their friend.

So, you might ask, what exactly is the point of this convoluted metaphor? It quite simple. If the street is a metaphor for friendship, then the act of walking is an analogy for the amount of effort each person is putting into keeping in touch and maintaining the friendship. In short, the moral of the story is, it takes two people to keep a friendship strong, and even if one goes all out, he will soon tire from his efforts and give up all together if be is not met half way.

It takes two people to build a friendship, but only one to destroy it. I am getting so tired of trying. Sometimes I wonder if I’m really seen as a true friend or just a number to dial in emergencies.

Cheers, Godbless.

Grey.

Categories: General, Rant Tags: , ,

Press button to stop.

30 April 2009, Thursday Leave a comment

Today’s post  could be titled “Adventures in transportation (aka : why I absolutely DETEST commuting by public transport)” but I shall go with the former because this post is so overdue anyway and I can’t be fucked to change it.

I hate commuting. I really do.

Driving on Singaporean roads is bad enough, what with the insane-wannabe I’ve-seen-one-too-many-Fast-and-furious-movie-twats tearing up the streets with their “superior” driving skills and pointed lack of regard for safety (theirs AND yours). Then there’s  the blissfully oblivious and spatially unaware soccer moms who drive SUVs large enough to eat your car. Then there’s the lao jiao* drivers who feel that they are entitled to the right of way every time and are always in a rush (in spite of their lao jiao-ness) and to whom the concept of common courtesy is completely alien.

*Lao Jiao – 老鸟 lit; “old bird”, an expression in some Chinese dialects referring to someone who is considered senior or experienced. Not to be confused with Lan Jiao.

 

Of course, not all Singaporean drivers are like this. There are the courteous, decent people out there who make driving a pleasure. A wave or a nod when I let someone pass can make my day.  It’s the rest of the general population and their ass-hat behavior that gets to me.

But I digress. This is a post about the evils of public transportation (specifically, the unbearable fact that I am forced to stoically endure it for the better part of 2 hours a day).

I think the problem stems from my intense dislike of crowds. which is in turn probably pointedly fueled by my opinion that people in crowds are about as intelligent as cattle (I might post something on mob mentality at a later date if i feel like it) and are just about as effective when it comes to making decisions. This is further aggravated by the fact that the number of elbows and knees in a crowd seems exponentially inverse to the level of intelligence exhibited by aforementioned crowd. The patience level of each crowd also seems to drop as the crowd gets larger, with each individual seeming to think they have anonymity in numbers.

In short, crowds allow people to act like retarded, impatient, inconsiderate jerks and get away with it.

Which brings us back to public transport.

I hate public transportation because it is ALWAYS crowded. Maybe it’s the government’s fault, maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s all the foreign talents flooding our shores, maybe it isn’t. All I know is that out current public transportation system is woefully inadequate.

However. The one thing that irks me the most about public transportation is…

The smell.

Yes. People on the busses and trains smell bad. REALLY bad. (Keep in mind that I sometimes have to spend hours trapped in a classroom with forty or so pubescent-ish boys after they’ve had PE lessons. I think my tolerance of odious odors is quite advanced. But nothing can prepare you for some of the fragrances you encounter in transit. You’d think it would be better in the mornings, with people freshly out of their showers and done with their toilets. Mais non! The stink on the busses in the mornings is almost as tear inducing as pepper spray. And it’s probably worse because you’re tired and still only semi-conscious and it hits you without warning when your defenses are down. Then there’s the “natural” odors… Don’t even get me started on those.

Thank God I’m getting a car soon…

Cheers, Godbless.

Grey.