BDSM in public…

AKA  “Why i’m not worried about offending you.”

I’m fat. That’s not going to change. Even if I diet like a fiend and make a huge lifestyle change, I’ll probably never get under 240lbs without some horrible invasive surgery. having said that, something new struck me recently.

I was looking at a picture that compared a girl in a cosplay outfit who was plus size, but not overly so, to another girl playing the same character but who was thin. Both outfits were well done but thinner one was shot in a professional portrait setting, so they probably had a better shot at presenting their costume nicely. The general consensus was that the larger girl was repulsive and should not be out like that. Some people made statements like “whale” or “put her out of her misery”. It seemed as if they were offended by having to look even voluntarily at an image of a large girl, god forbid if they were in the same space as her too!

Then there’s meme roth and all her fat shaming bullshit she’s spewing which is really just a product of our media society. God forbid the fatties live alongside these bastions of thin. As if thin people are never irritating to be near, or never have health problems. God, fat people are made fun of all over, and even if there’s a fat person at a gym they are still made fun of when clearly they are trying to change.

So if simply existing and not being absolutely ashamed of myself, was reason that others are offended, then why should I be so damn worried about offending their delicate sensibilities in other ways?

Combine that with people who simply offend me with no concern… people who talk on the phone (bluetooth headsets in particular) really fucking loud, people who wear perfume that makes me sneeze and have mini asthma attacks, people who wear their pants way too fucking low, people who use homophobic slurs in common language, people who call the entire area of the vulva the vagina, people who sport conservative or stupid bumperstickers, or the ideals behind them… Sarah Palin or Rush Limbaugh… The list goes on.

Mash all these things together and you have an atmosphere where I stop caring if I’m offending you and I jsut start enjoying myself. I’ll still be a good person. I’ll still hold the door for you, tip well, let you cross the street, and other courteous things, but don’t be suprized if I’m wearing my pro-abortion t-shirt while doing it, or if I’ve got a leash on, or my knees tied together and my panties stuffed in my mouth with tape.

I don’t care if my existence offends you.