Obesity is Not an Excuse for Being Rude

Don’t get me wrong. I’m fully aware that sometimes medical conditions lead to obesity, and I’m not about to knock that. What I am about to knock, however, is the fact that being obese – for any reason – is never an excuse for being rude.

Perhaps I wouldn’t be as annoyed right now if I’d been warned that my morning commute would be be more like the Stanley Cup final than your run of the mill commute. Had I known I’d be checked and practically body-slammed into a wall this morning I’d at least have been able to mentally prepare or take a different route to the office.

Here I am, on my way to the office when here comes the Michelin Man in all his sweaty, obese glory huffing and puffing his way through the Clinton green/pink line station. Closing in on the home stretch of my half-block walk from the train to the safety of my office, I could nearly see the finish line when the Michelin Man, barreling through the turnstiles, proceeds to slam into me and push me aside in his quest to get to the train that had already left minutes before.

Now let’s set one thing straight. By no means am I a small person. At nearly 6’1″ and 170lbs, it’s not like I’m built like my better half Not-so-Carrie. It’s not like I’m one of the Invisible Children or anything. Okay. Back to the story.

“Whoa!” I exclaim, as I do nearly a full 180 as he not-so-gently brushes past me almost knocking me over.

Typically in a situation like this, what would you do? Oh wait, that’s right. Any normal person would apologize. Nope…not the Michelin Man. What do I get instead of even a quick “Oh sorry, I didn’t see you there” or another white lie that would even acknowledge that he ran into me? A GLARE! Umm…really buddy? You’re glaring at me because you checked me with your fat rolls? Rude.

The funniest thing is, I wasn’t the only one standing there wondering what the hell had just happened. The lady behind me who’d nearly gotten taken out as well looked at me, jaw on the floor, shaking her head in disgust at the situation. “Happy Tuesday, I guess,” she mutters to me.

Happy Tuesday, indeed.

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