Nude by Christmas

38 years old, 102kg. One of those numbers is about to change.

The Heaviest Place on Earth!

I couldn’t believe the number of fat people at Disneyland. I’m talking mega-fat, not just your average American fat. Blubberous. Bulbous from head to toe. Sweaty, lardy, swollen, grotesque fat. Forget “The happiest place on earth!” it’s “The heaviest place on earth!”.

And there they all were, rolling around on those little golf cart thingos, speeding from place to place, in and out of all the other people who were – astoundingly – WALKING. Yes, at Disneyland, if you are whopping great ball of a person, you get an advantage. You speed straight past the lines of normal, healthier people (who can stand on their own two feet and walk from place to place), and barge into the rides. All because you’re a chubber. You get treated like a person with a disability (I have no issue with these people speeding around on scooters, or whatever it takes), but you do not have a disability. Last time I checked, lazy was not a disability.

I saw one guy get stuck on Splash Mountain. They had to stop the ride because he couldn’t lift his gigantic body out of the funny little log boat. Now that’s fat. There was family of four – kids no older than 16, who could have been mistaken for some kind of inflatable bouncy ride if they’d sat down on the grass for too long together. The dad and the son proudly scoffed down their enormous turkey legs and sucked back a gallon of soda (well hey, you know sitting on the “It’s a small world” boat for 15 minutes can really take it out of a guy).

By the end of my first day there I was angry. Angry that a country so smart, that leads the world in so many things, could have so many stupid fat people. Attack me all you like for my strong language, but if you are that fat, you are stupid. You know you shouldn’t be, know you can do something about it, know how to go about it – if you don’t… you are stupid.

I sat in the twilight right on the tip of Main Street waiting for the night-time parade to begin, bewildered at the long, broad shadows cast by the wobbling bellies of people heading out the gates – probably to Downtown Disney where they would guzzle more sugar and scoff another dozen ribs or more.

It was the saddest thing I saw at the happiest place on earth.

Is it just me, or does this align with your experience of the crowds at Disneyland?


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