a fat person - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

The sunlight stopped at her skin but the jibes went right to Elsa's heart. All anyone saw was poor self control, someone so weak willed as the allow themselves to become disfigured. Her gait had become awkward, she felt so hot in the summer time and always she walked in a toxic cloud of judgement. People didn't think she noticed how they turned to stare in the street, some pointed, some didn't care if she did see. Some folks have invisible addictions; to tobacco, caffeine or painkillers. But hers was too obvious to miss, she wore it like a thick overcoat everywhere she went. Elsa was well aware of the mantra, "Eat less, exercise more," but how could she walk about the town with their incredulous stares boring into her? This addiction that began in childhood, always being given food when she cried, was now so ingrained. When she was sad she ate, when she was anxious she ate, when she was stressed she ate. All that pain, all so visible, all totally ignored.

I'm pretty ashamed of myself. The first time I met Jessie all I saw was his bulk, I edged away like everyone else expecting body odour. But it was more than that, I treated him like it was contagious. I feared ridicule just from associating with him. Then when my first born came and screamed right through the night he started taking work off my desk, doing it on my behalf. He never made a big deal of it or dropped it into any conversation. If I ever had stuff left at clocking off he just took the whole pile. After a few months things settled at home, I wasn't a zombie anymore and my work rate came back to normal. Now when anyone gossips behind his back I tell them I refuse to put people down for their medical issues but if they want to talk about how people can be kinder to one another I'm all ears. Of course actions speak louder than words and the only one who's ever done that kind of talking around here is Jessie. It comes a personal cost to yourself, not at a personal cost to others

Terry supported a kid who wasn't his just so she and her mother could get by. He didn't get anything in return, he just did it. And not thirty dollars a month to an "adopt-a-child" program, although there's nothing wrong with those. He handed over one third of his salary. He dropped everything anytime they needed him and never made them feel obligated to him for anything. He wasn't in love with her mother, he just knew how wretched poverty was and wanted better for this child. He couldn't help every child in the world, so he had picked just this one. He was an uncle, a surrogate father, a guardian angel. He never boasted of it, never resented the money, he paid every month for eighteen years, sent her to university and paid for her wedding. But all most people knew about him was that he was fat, very fat, morbidly obese. His friends, those fortunate people who had not been so prejudice as to snub him, were fiercely loyal.

There was a time I was all skin and bone, lithe and light on my feet. I used to run, savouring the wind in my face and the movement of gravel through my shoes. I'd like to be that girl still, but she's just not in here anymore. After what that man did, don't ask me his name, that girl just got up and deserted me, leaving just a torn fragment to carry on. My new identity is as a fat person, someone nobody looks twice at unless it's to sneer. Everyone wants to be judge and jury, no-one likes being in the dock. So take a look at my plus-size, ogle the junk in my food cart and feel superior as I pass. With every extra inch of my waist my human-rights shrink a little more...

The doorway to the store just wasn't made for people my size. I could make it in, but then what of turning in the narrow aisles? Already Mike has walked in, thinking of nothing but the allure of the fishing tackle inside. He's examined at least three angling rods before he realizes I'm not there. Then he turns, a look of confusion quickly replaced by an embarrassed blush. He isn't embarrassed for himself, he's never been like that, he's feeling it for me. In a moment he saunters out as if that's what he wanted to do all along and he takes my hand, all his talk of what movie we should rent next.

The fattest person I ever knew was Greg, I swear he was two full seats on any airline. He lived his life as if to dispel any suggestion that "fat" should be auto-linked to "jolly." He was the most sullen and cynical bastard that ever breathed and I loved him for it. There was an honesty to it. He never sugar coated anything that wasn't edible. If you wanted straight facts he was your go-to guy, for anything else it was just better to stay away.

Jada was a legend. He had cracked the toughest encryptions invented and sold the solutions of how to counter-act his lawlessness back to the government at a premium and for a pardon. Him agreeing to meet me was huge, no-one had ever clapped eyes on him - ever. But I'd impressed him with a new algorithm and here I was in some dingy cafe for vegetarians. My heart thumped as I pushed open the door. It was deserted apart from some fat chick. I don't talk to fat chicks, if they can't be bothered to eat right and get their arse down the gym I really don't care. So I had sat there for two and half hours watching the door with bated breath. The fat chick had said "Excuse me," but I just feigned deafness. I didn't need to be massaging the ego of some obese teenager. Then she had tried again and I just ignored her, the snub so pointed that she had got up and left. As the door had opened sunlight caught a tattoo on the back of her neck - binary. I could have run after her but what would I say?