by Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw
Finding and receiving even adequate respect when you are a fat person is both tricky and vital. All too often, a fat person does not get something even closely similar to minimal afforded dignity much less a good standard of treatment. This is true in a wide variety of fields, too, from inadequate space to move to clothing that truly fits to medical care. Even in the most personal of relationships, respect is all too often lacking because the use of a person’s fat is too easily used as a weapon to punish the “transgressor.” And, boy, can I tell you some tales!
As almost every fat person can tell you, everything bad or even the merely not good tends to get blamed on the fat. Good things that happen to and for a fat person are usually looked at as suspect or as consolation prizes of some kind. The message is loud and clear: You’re fat, so how could you have received that good thing (compliment, award, promotion, lover, etc.)—wasn’t there a more normal-sized person around at the time? Oh no! A fat person cannot have keen intelligence nor wit, beauty in and of themselves, good skills and talents, or any of the other things normal to humankind, right? It is as if respectable traits are in a negative ratio to body poundage: the more pounds the less good traits. Of course, when a fat person is berated for something that is automatically blamed on the fat, the fact that humans of all sizes and shapes tend to have these very same traits is not mentioned and is certainly not mentioned to the fat person in question. Why, that might just empower the fat person and destroy the power of the berating! We cannot have that, now can we?!
And so, let me introduce you to Daphne, the Super-Duper-Sized Woman who also sometimes likes to call herself the Quarter Ton Woman. She is loosely based on me, of course, but she does tend to have a lot more adventures than the real Daphne does, which is ok by me since she also gets into a lot more trouble than I tend to do on my own. Some of what Daphne, the SDSW (Super-Duper-Sized Woman,) gets into is based on situations either the real Daphne or my friends have experienced, but the stories are changed enough to protect the privacy of the participants, including or maybe especially including me. Daphne’s story will usually be told in third person so as to differentiate her tales from my own true tales which will be in first person. The Daphne used in first person is the one who tends to write documented articles and more serious stories; whereas, Daphne, the SDSW, likes to have fun and tends to be quite mischievous.
Give Me My Death Certificate, dag nabbit!
Daphne, the SDSW, was long overdue for a doctor’s appointment. Months had passed, and she had been unable to get out to see one of those she thought of as extremely overpaid and overly respected professionals. It wasn’t like she was deliberately trying to skip appointments…. Well, it was exactly like she was deliberately skipping appointments, truth be told—doctors tended to have hard to get into and around offices, tended to have very bad attitudes toward fat people in general and toward super-duper-sized people especially, and never seemed to give any remotely decent standard of care to a super-duper-sized person beyond “lose weight and all your troubles will be miles away.” In other words, if passing out awards for being truly unhelpful and even tending toward abusiveness, doctors ranked high up there in Daphne’s mind.
But, that wasn’t the primary reason she hadn’t been to see a doctor in months. The real reason was she had been in much more pain and extremely decreased mobility because of that pain for months. Flared up joints all over a body tends to do that even to the best of people and intentions. However, being practical about needing medications like a depended upon one known as insulin gave an added incentive not to put off seeing those doctors too long.
So, the day came when Daphne, the SDSW, made a valiant effort to get out to see her doctors all in one day so as to get it over and done with at one time. Even the weather decided to help her efforts… It was one of the strongest torrential downpours of the decade type of day. Ah, such joy.
Anyway, dripping onto the tiled floor, Daphne awaited her verdict. Surprisingly, she was not kept waiting too long this time to be disappointed much. The Doctor came in, shook her hand lightly, and proceeded to tell her she was dead already; therefore, she must go get the miracle performing and resurrecting “chop you up and serve you for sausage” surgery because, well, super-duper-size was a grave condition after all, and this procedure will get rid of all the many things going wrong in that super-duper-sized body. Never mind if the patient may die from the procedure because all know that such an enormous person did not have a life anyway. Besides, no one really knows when another will indeed die, and it would be much better to die after paying an enormous price to a very lucrative medical experimental business before expiration dates on a particular body than to die without adequate assisting of a payroll, now would it?
What was worse, Daphne wondered: being bullied into a quasi-submission or being declared dead but not given your death certificate that you’d already paid for? (Doctors’ office staffs have become very clever at requiring payment before allowing a person to see the MDieties anymore.)
Yes, both she and the doctor are still at this time breathing. And, she is still waiting to receive the paid for Death Certificate so she can approach her insurance for possible death benefits. Meanwhile, the saga will definitely continue, have no fear!