I was born to be a fat kid; body type, genetic predisposition, a love of all things fatty, sweet and salty all stacked up to insure that I would be laying on the bed to zip my jeans up for years to come. I did not have the social advantages of the skinny girls. I was deprived of my cheer-leading days (but please disregard that I have absolutely no ability to translate dance moves into actual steps without looking like I am having a seizure). I was deprived of the cute little uniform, even if it would have been less than attractive! The boys did not chase after me for dates, I did not get tons of carnations on carnation day, I was wounded. Now that I think about it, I bet I could sue the school for the mental anguish and pain I suffered every Valentines day. It wasn't fair, life was against me. Yes, I know I could have exercised more and smoked less. I know that potato chip sandwiches and gallons of ice cream probably didn't help matters, but darn it, I was born that way.
After a life long struggle of yo-yo (and actually folks I was smoking hot when I was skinny), self loathing, starvation followed by gluttony, I got it together; at least in my head. The body was a different story. I worked out, cut fat, cut carbs, detoxed, allergy tested, and generally beat my head against a wall for 18 months. I would love to tell you that it worked, but this is a true story and sadly hard work is sometimes not rewarded in this life, and in the end I was 13 pounds heavier than when I started. I would not give up. Well, truthfully, I gave up on an off. It is frustrating to be starving to death and gaining weight at the same time.
In desperation, I went to see my P.A. (a real healer that listens to me instead of being all high and mighty doctorish) and poured out my tale of woe. She said two things to me that day that changed my life forever; insulin resistance and what is normal? It turns out I have a medical condition that was keeping me fat and that I could no longer eat potato chip sandwiches, even after I lost all my weight. My definition of normal needed to change.
I got some meds and started back on track, just as I had 18 months before, 4-6 days a week in the gym, strict adherance to Weight Watchers, and to my eternal surprise, this time it worked. This time the weight fell off (and has stayed off for a year now) and at the end of 6 months I had lost 45 pounds, which was 32% of my body weight. I went from a size 14 to a size 4. Mr. Madison was ecstatic and so was I.
Now, I began to notice things - people were nicer to me. People, especially men, smiled at me a lot. Heavy women, on the other hand, started looking at me with ill disguised contempt. They did not applaud me, they hated me. I reminded them of what they weren't, I did not inspire them to change - they just wanted what I had, while continuing to eat their potato chip sandwiches.
If the liberals could, they would take away all but 10 pounds of my weight loss and give it to someone in need. They would say, you have all the advantages, you can loose it again; poor Bertha is heavy and needs to take off a few, it's your duty as an American. Of course discounting the fact that Bertha had not made the necessary lifestyle changes to sustain the 35 pounds of free weight loss and 4 months later would have regained it all back. I would scream in frustration, but I struggled my whole life to loose that weight. I tried dozens of times and failed, I just kept trying!
As ridiculous as this may seem, how is it any different that taxing successful entrepreneurs and business people in this manner? We punitively tax the achievers in our land and "spread the wealth around" to people that have not sacrificed, earned, or have the ability to retain what you have "given" them.
Dennis Miller summed it up perfectly, "I have no problem helping the helpless, but I am done helping the clueless." Bravo, Dennis and thankfully the government can't redistribute the weight. I am hanging on to it and frankly, they can kiss my skinny ass.