“I’d never date a girl with cottage cheese thighs.”

Back in my early twenties, a friend of mine said this during a conversation. I can’t remember the exact conversation, only that this sentence was said in the presence of me, a girl with cottage cheese thighs.

My first thought was, “This guy has no idea the prevalence of cottage cheese thighs.” Because seriously, if this is your criteria for dating a woman then let me inform you that something like 80% of women have cellulite and even skinny women can get it. So, just try to hang in there as bet you can, fellas.

My second thought was, “Did I inadvertently send him a signal that I was interested in him and he had to be sure to shut me down before I became overt with my attraction and embarrassed him because nothing is worse than attracting the amorous attentions of a fat girl?” Because, though I didn’t have any interest in him, I’ve been known to unintentionally “flirt” with people.

My final thought was, “Well, if he thinks that, then that must be what they all think.”

That’s the thing. It’s very easy to take the opinion of one person that you know and consider it a validation of the consensus, particularly when that consensus only acknowledges something when it’s the butt of a joke, object of ridicule, or target of shaming. And since I’ve had this dairy condition on my lower appendages since the latter years of puberty, well, I’m just unloveable, now aren’t I? Thanks for the confirmation, friend!

I still think about that cottage cheese comment all these years later. It’s both a burden and a blessing. On the one hand, it’s a quick answer about any sort of appearance questions I might have about myself.

Should I wear this shirt? Is it flattering? Should I get my hair cut like this? Will I be attractive if I do? Should I wear the red lipstick or the nude?

Then a voice reminds me that I have cottage cheese thighs and I’m like, “Hot damn! It doesn’t matter because I’m hideous by default. No pressure! What do I WANT to do? Red lipstick it is!”

Other times, I wonder if I should wear something like shorts or a shorter skirt or dress and that voice reminds me about my cottage cheese thighs and then I have to debate on if I want to deal with the venom that may be slung my way because I’ve got dimples on the wrong body parts. Do I have the fortitude to deal with the looks, snickering, and/or nasty comments if I go out in public?

And then I put on Capri pants because I just don’t feel like dealing with my cottage cheese thighs that day.

I can’t deny that their existence does make my life easier sometimes. People can just look at me and my dairy laden legs and go, “Oh no. I want nothing to do with that.” They don’t bother getting to know me. They don’t even have to ask my name. They don’t waste their time.

More importantly, they don’t waste mine.

Cottage cheese can be pretty tasty for those who enjoy it.

I’m fat. This is apparent. Laws knows that I’m not trying to hide it and I don’t think I could if I wanted to as that sort of cover-up would no doubt make me look larger.

But I don’t have to explain my fatness to you. I don’t have to defend it. I don’t have to justify it. I don’t have to apologize for it. It is what it is and if you have a problem with my appearance, then YOU HAVE THE PROBLEM.

I don’t have to assure you that I’m doing healthy things with my life despite my weight. I don’t have to apologize for leaving the house not weighing 120 pounds. I don’t have to argue that I have just as much right to exist as you do because my pants size is bigger than yours.

Let me say it again.

YOU HAVE THE PROBLEM.

My fat is my own. I’m the one that deals with it on a daily basis. I dress it. I touch it. I move it. I wash it. And you know what? I don’t have nearly as big of a problem with it as you do.

Because you think I should be ashamed. You think I should be apologetic. You think I should change.

Don’t tell me I should lose weight for my health because we both know you don’t really think that. You don’t give one shit about my health. You want to me to lose weight so I’ll fit into the socially acceptable appearance box. You want me to lose weight so you’ll be more comfortable in my presence, sitting next to me, talking to me, walking past me, walking around me.

Me losing weight in this context has nothing to do with me and everything to do with YOU.

So when I don’t lose weight, when I insist on existing in my fat state, it offends YOU. Because you’ve made MY weight about YOU.

YOU HAVE THE PROBLEM.

I don’t.

So please understand when I exist against your wishes, without apology or justification.

Because this is your hang-up, scooter, not mine.

Not-fat people have this interesting delusion that for some strange reason it’s never occurred to fat people to lose weight. And they indulge in this delusion by telling fat people reasons they should lose weight because clearly the fat people just need some good arguments for it.

Okay, I’m being a little harsh. After all, the not-fat people are well-meaning. They’re just trying to be helpful. Their hearts are in the right places, but their logic is off drinking a kale smoothie.

So, let me help you non-fat people out a little bit. Here are two things that you shouldn’t say to a fat person in an effort to convince them to lose weight (actually, it would serve you very well to just NOT try to convince a fat person to lose weight in the first place; you do you, okay?). These are the two I’ve heard the most and therefore, they’re the ones I despise the most.

You’d be prettier if you lost weight.

No, scooter, I wouldn’t. I’d be THINNER if I lost weight. Unfortunately, my physical defects, scars, stretchmarks, crooked nose, crooked teeth, bad skin, etc., would not be affected in any way by a weight loss. In fact, my defects could be increased if I lost weight too fast because then I’d have loose skin to go with it.

Also, the general look of my face wouldn’t change much as I tend to not carry much weight in my face to begin with. This questionably attractive mug would remain questionably attractive.

So, no, I would not be prettier if I lost weight, just thinner. And thinner ain’t necessarily prettier.

You’d be so much healthier if you lost weight.

This statement operates under two false premises. One, that thinness somehow equates to health. It doesn’t. Halle Berry is thin, but she has diabetes. Ditto Mary Tyler Moore. Valerie Harper is thin and she’s got brain cancer. Maura Tierney had breast cancer. Teri Garr has multiple sclerosis. My mother is thin and her cholesterol has always been sky high.

Are there health problems related to being fat? There can be. But many of those health problems can also be related to being sedentary and eating like shit, which thin people are also guilty of doing.

My point is that you can’t typically tell by looking at someone’s size whether or not they’re healthy.

Which brings me false premise number two. You have no idea what my health is. Unless you’re my doctor (and you’re not because I’m currently between doctors at the moment), you’ve got no clue what my blood pressure, blood sugar, pulse, cholesterol, or any of that is. You have no idea what my diet is or how much I exercise or what illnesses, disorders, or syndromes I might have.

So when you tell someone to lose weight for “their health” you’re making an awfully big assumption about that person’s health.

And you know what happens when you make assumptions, don’t you?

Here’s the thing. When you (uninvited, as it usually happens) argue for someone to lose weight to “be healthier” or “be prettier”, you might mean well, but in reality, all I’m hearing is that you want that person to lose weight because you’re uncomfortable with the way that person looks. You’re speaking in a code programmed by society.

So, the next time you non-fat people try to be helpful, help yourself.

Shut up.