My major exertion this week was going to the doctor. I rode in a car, walked 20 ft, sat on a chair, talked, rode home, and had to go lie down and take medicine. As my doctor remarked, "You look grey." Because I have a chronic illness and nobody is sure what exactly it is or what to do about it. I've been like this off an on, without much rhyme or reason, since 2009 when I came down with mono for the second (yes second) time. I used to exercise every day, before I got sick. Now some days, if I do any kind of exercise -- for mere minutes! -- it'll knock me on my ass for days, a kind of exhaustion and pain and fatigue you can't understand unless you've experienced it. This they give the benign, cuddly title of "post-exertional malaise."
Luckily if somebody looks at me and thinks I'm fat because I'm lazy, I really couldn't give a shit, because having your vitality ripped from you at 26 really gives you perspective on stupid things like that guy's staring at my fat ass.
The irony, of course, is that you are guilty of what you claim others are guilty of… not having a clue as to the private lives or struggles of the people around you. Judging them based on appearance. Thinking you know them.
But if you, heaven forbid, develop a chronic illness and you're smart enough to do your own research, you'll find that millions of people all around you are suffering in silence. Of being told they simply must be lazy. Without a proper diagnosis or any kind of medical help.
Oh wait. I guess those are handouts?