Open Letter to Your Problems With My Obesity

I am NOT above cursing you out. Look at today's love letter. BTW, you're a fan dumb ass.

 November 19, 2016



RE:  "My Fat Fucking With Your Emotions"

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Latoya Shauntay Snell.  I am a mother, a wife, friend to many and at times, a potty mouthed know it all who could give two bits of a damn about your opinion.  Some days, I shed my layers of armor and surrender to questions and comments like yours because I learned how to embrace the notion that I am human.  

For the last three years, folks often question me why do I choose to expose myself to the world in such a way that allows bullets to come in my direction.  I'm very well aware that my armor doesn't protect my heart some days.  When I shower alone, I know that people's opinions can assassinate my thoughts.  Some dreams aren't as vibrant as my personality; it is as dark and tacky as tar.  My dear, this is not a letter seeking your sympathy.  This is merely a statement matching your statement.  While my fat fucks with your emotions, I question why do you care so much.  

I heard the statement, "...hurt people HURT people" so many times, asking for us fat people to turn the other cheek.  Some days are easier than others.  I will never scapegoat my plus size community for the atrocities that they have done in retort.  Shaming a skinny person will not make you better than them.  You are contributing to the atrocities of society.  When there's statements made like "don't trust a skinny cook" or "real women have curves", you are part of the problem.  How can anyone hear anything if we are all just yelling?  

You couldn't have paid me enough years ago to tell me that I would inspire anyone.  My life wasn't designed to move people emotionally, especially not your emotions in particular.  If inspiration comes with the backlash from "normal size folks" who allegedly know how to put down a burger telling me that I am contributing to the downfall of an obesity laced nation, then you surely couldn't have talked me into this rainbow coalition of fitness fuckery.  Unfortunately for you, here I stand.  All 200+ pounds of me, almost 5'4, vertically challenged thanks to genetics, glistening in your disgust and wondering why do you hate me or what I stand for?  Just because I'm a woman who advocates for people to get up off their asses despite the pounds that they tote around on a daily basis?  Would you prefer if I suggest or tell them all to sit down, nuzzle under a Mr. Goodbar and pray the fat away?  

Have you ever considered that it's not everyone's dream to become skinny?  I lost 100 pounds in a year, woke up one morning and couldn't even recognize myself.  Ever had an epiphany that perhaps you was living out someone else's desires?  I learned that harsh lesson once I was 10 pounds from goal weight.  Everything that glitters ain't gold.  

Just for shits and giggles, did you know that not all of us have a screwed up relationship with our dinner?  Have you educated yourself on how metabolism works or auto immune diseases?  How about people who just don't desire to be skinny?  Maybe muscle versus fat?  Or that the BMI scale isn't created equally?  Or wait, maybe we all don't have a goddamn thyroid issue that's preventing us from shedding the pounds?  I bet you didn't even think it was possible that there's some fat people who actually enjoy fitness?  But I understand:  The media has you fucked up, as it has for decades.  First we were told that we should eat fresh fruits and vegetables and then we were told that processed foods was the path an abundant life to exchanging these items for a microwavable dinner to realizing that all of this is just marketing.  

I bet you're awaiting the moment when being fat and fit isn't such a trend anymore.  When the media gets tired of showing my whale ass on your magazine covers, promoting self love and body acceptance.  Are we taking up too much negative space on your Internet browser, baby?  Well, my dear, tough shit.  People have been toting around their beautiful, fat asses for years without seeking your permission.  Before it became the trending topic, people were out there doing something to enrich their lives.  Please don't send your condolences to me that I work out 2 to 3 hours a day, eat semi healthy and managed to be an ultra marathoner yet I'm still fat.  Send your well wishes to the holes that burn in my running leggings from chafing.  These thick thighs murder clothing baby.  If you really care, could you send me a new Fitbit, pay for a few of my races and pick up some ointment because my addiction is costly.  Running is like breathing; my strength training exercise regimen will make your girlfriend blush.  

In short, quit your bitching.  Tighten up your shoe strings.  Make sure you put some ointment in all of the happy places.  Shut the fuck up and take a run with me.  We don't even have to be in the same state, do it at the same time nor same types of places.  Don't like running?  Jump on your bike or sweat it out in a barre class?  Pretend you're the sexiest dancer in your Zumba class.  Murder that punching bag for 30 minutes.  Then go have a glass of wine, kick back your feet after taking a long, hot shower.  Laugh at something funny because sweetheart, I'm not that damn entertaining.  If you're not willing to do that a few times a week, please take your comments, write on a scrap piece of paper, address it to your rectum and shove it.  And if this was already a part of your routine, shame on you for passively discouraging others from getting out there to move.  Regardless of what negative image you try to paint me (or others like me), we are all just trying to shine in our own bright lights.  Stop trying to cut off my electricity.  My bills are paid.  

Love and Light,

Latoya Shauntay
Running Fat Chef

P.S.  I'm petty as hell.  Don't come for me unless I send for you.  To the gentleman who sent me a "love note" last week telling me that I looked like I had a threesome with Aunt Jemima and Betty Crocker:  You are the REAL MVP because I have a fucked up sense of humor.  That shit was actually funnier than the day that your mom decided not to swallow, you insignificant cunt.  Please know that I'm not your everyday role model.  I will curse you the fuck out and give you a curtsy afterwards because I'm such a classy woman.  

---