For my fatty friends:
I’m fine with fat acceptance as long as it doesn’t affect your health.
The instant your weight starts being an issue to your overall well-being, I will get in your face and tell you to work on it. I will support you however I can, but you have to KNOW that even if you’re “fine” with being obese and how it’ll probably take ten, twenty years off your life, THAT I AM NOT.
You are my FRIEND, and friends do not let other friends KILL THEMSELVES.
I’m fine with your re-embodiment, acknowledgement of your own sentience, history and sense of your own humanity. But the instant that starts to conflict with my low opinion of you, based on a formula conflation of your size with a doom and destruction.
I will make the most of your loving investment in me to make myself an odious pest to you-issuing endless threats of your impending death.
Just when you need me the most.
To remind you that, “Yes, those years you’ve spent almost permanently on a diet, or trying desperately to be, did happen and yes you are still slim. Don’t just go back to that because its easier, we both know that has lead you to where you are now…..”
“For goodness sake, isn’t it time to start shutting the hate down? What do you have to put yourself through to stop following their orders and start to get back in touch with who you are and what you really need? Don’t wait for them, they won’t stop. You have to.”
“I want to see you take real care of yourself from now on. Restore your mental equilibrium, so that you can think with a clear head about what you really need to do for yourself……”
Nah, instead I will ruthlessly press upon the bond that we’ve built to make you feel like I must be on your side, even though I am making you feel like shit. And I will even insist I’m doing it as a favour to you.
That’s what friends do, honest!