Fat girl

I'm an unabashed fattist. I've had friends who are overweight and don't sweepingly disapprove of anyone who tips the scales, but chances are, if I don't know someone and they've clearly been really packing it on, I connect my own internal personality dots pretty quickly. I also cannot stand witnessing someone littering.

It clearly, then, was two strikes when driving home today your standard rotund little girl was stampeding carefree down the middle of the street, her arms raised in chubby glee as she threw her mercilessly-emptied Doritos bag to the wind.



My first reaction was to stop and raise my hands at the portly kid, as if she'd really understand. I'm aware enough to appreciate that a poor overweight kid is mostly the result of parenting, which was reinforced as I saw the kid's mom a little farther down the block; a proportionately larger version of her daughter. She watched the Doritos bag blow away down the street, only to goad her round child into stomping faster toward her. I watched the kid's suffocating pink shorts ripple by and thought for a second about getting out to ask mom to pick up her kid's 5:45 snack before letting out a good "tffsh!" to myself and driving off. Come on people, come on.