No Fats Good, Got Fats Bad

This is a visual world.

I wonder how others, as an ice breaker, could possibly broach on rude subjects to be unknowingly (or knowingly) rude. If I could win awards for being the most popularly insulted female in cabs, I am possibly well on my way to nomination and greatness. The first time, I was in a cab and the uncle deemed fit as a conversation starter to mention how fat I am. Ok, perhaps it’s hardly even a “mention” since I considered it as a rhetorical question because I have no suitable responses for it. And I’ll let you judge for yourself.

Thoughtless Cab driver: You very fat hor?
Clueless Me: *speechless*

The thoughtless cab driver looked expectantly at me, presumably waiting for an acknowledgment. Now what should I say at that point in time really? Does the cab driver expect a ‘Thank You’ with eyes brimming full of grateful tears or a pair of bright eyes accompanied by friendly tones of ‘That’s right!’? Or should I be rude in return and tell him to mind his own business which is to drive safely and send me home since his only concern would be to make sure that I pay him for the ride. I think I just blurted out a ‘Why? Why do you ask me that?‘ in feeble retort. He only managed a ‘huh‘ and kept quiet till I arrived at my destination.

The second time, I shared a cab with someone and apparently after I alighted from the cab and the someone continued on his way, the balding cab driver made disparaging remarks about me. The person was embarrassed to repeat the content but I do not have to think in order to guess.

I’ll be lying if I say it does not matter and I do not hurt since fat people have more in their flesh to hurt than anyone else. Listen carefully:

I did not steal your kids’ food and leave them with none. I do not make you earn money and buy me bread. I do not wear your clothes and rip it apart with my width. I do not mow you down when you walked headlong into me. I do not crash an entire plane, make the Titanic sink and burst your car tyre. I do not kidnap anyone, keep them in the fridge and fry them in grease for breakfast. And no, I do not keep the bones and make them into soup for supper after.

And since I do none of the things above, why am I being sentenced to seeing the pity in your eyes and the smile leaving your lips when I draw near?

Keep out of my way or I just might be tempted to ask you how is it possible that you have so little hair left.


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