Maybe it *is* a choice, after all.

It seems that any mention of a cause for fatness other than sitting on your ass eating McDonald’s all day is seen as an “excuse.” “Stop playing the victim; you choose to be fat.”

You know what? Maybe I do choose to be fat.

I choose to do things like study, read, sew, and spend time with my friends instead of exercising for 3-4 hours a day.

I choose to eat when I’m hungry instead of ignoring my body’s needs.

I choose to treat my asthma with a medication that causes weight gain instead of having trouble getting around because of my breathing problems.

I choose to eat food that tastes good instead of replacing it with half-assed substitutes.

I choose to have a job where I can sit comfortably instead of searching for one where I’d have to hurt my knees and back by standing.

I choose to take the bus instead of walking somewhere if it’s cold, or I’m tired, or I just don’t feel like it.

I choose to not mutilate my digestive system and possibly risk my life for what is essentially cosmetic surgery.

I choose to reject the notion that because I have “bad genes,” I must simply “work harder” to fit into someone else’s standard of beauty.

I choose to feel happy with my body the way it is.

So sure, I choose to be fat. And you know what? I’m okay with that.