OK, Jay has moved on from the cuddly.

In the spirit of cards on the table, last time I checked I was about 337, and I know I'm fucking fat. I know ALL of the consequences of that. I am soaked in the consequences of that, all the time. The most lazy fucking thing you can do as a doctor is to suggest surgery, like literally half a dozen doctors before them. There is a contempt that comes from their #fatphobia that comes from their need to believe that I'm fat because I *deserve* to be fat. Because nobody should want to live and look like me. I am fat, and it horrifies them. They wouldn't want to live like that. They'd risk everything to shed the weight. And they want to get away from you as quickly as possible.

Fuck every "doctor" who collects money for "heath care" and let's their own assumptions about what I must have done to ""deserve" to get fat dictate how much of a shit they give about my situation. Like I said, it's lazy, and the contempt was real.

/5

Like, let's be real. It's hard, with #fatphobia ingrained as deeply as it is, to even ask for help in the first place. by the time I finally got a "tilt-table test", I needed mobility assistance to avoid falling again, no question. But I refused to ask for it, because I was embarrassed. And that is straight up internalized #fatphobia. I tripped over a wheelchair after walking in from the garage, then tried to go to the testing facility, just short way away, by myself in the wheelchair, only to need help navigating the small hill from a passing stranger, again, bless her. And bless the doctor there who did his job without ever letting on that the procedures were different and I couldn't actually use the regular tilt-table, because it's not built for you, fatty.

Anyway, I just wanted an answer. And so the other factor, is the #cannabis. Have I "used" cannabis? Um. I have taken what can fairly be described as an "experimental" dosage of Rick Simpson oil.

3/