In defense of fat sadness.
Your Fat Friend

Let it go… ooh! A fecking Frozen tribute. Thing is I can’t? Letting go hurts — my family is worst at putting me in the position ehere i have to. Letting go. Nope. Struggling with that. I am accepting though. The way I am now is by-product of many years of amateur sporting activity with arthritis for dessert. Almost oroud of my badge. I resent my two speed, stationary or slow, existence but hey ho. It’s me. That comment in your opening paragraph would have resulted in a bucket full of angry sarcasm by way of riposte.

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