Why 'Fat' is Simply Fabulous
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Recently, I fell upon a terrible moment of public nudity. Long story short, I lost a men’s arm wrestling match and had to take my top off as a forfeit… I hadn’t worn a bra that day. Typically, I revelled in the moment of drunken rebellion. Heckled by the cat-calling crowd, the notion that what I was doing might even be slightly shameful had completely escaped me. Until a few evenings later, in an (again, drunken) argument with a girl who’d witnessed the event but who I’d never met before. She made various digs at my promiscuity (might I add, I had nowhere near been with or even flirted with a man that evening), and then, in such an original burst of insult, she called me fat. Now, I’m not a small lady. I hold a good 5’ 10’ and average a size 12 to 14. Her claim probably has a lot of truth to it. But hell, I like to eat cake. No, I wasn’t insulted by the remark. It brushed off me just as many have in the past. What really got to me was the fact that “fat” has somehow become our go-to catfight insult. Is fat really the worst a girl can be?
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