Contrast to the point where people think I’m your handler, because surely a waddling mass of gluttony like you needs someone extra strong to help you get out of your seat and squeezed through doorways. Surely someone so owned by obesity needs a ‘kind’ person to help them through the day when your muscles are so atrophied from laziness and pure caloric greed.
And then they see the real reason why you’re such a blob, they see me feed you bite after bite without letting you get a word (and sometimes a breath) in. They see me get everything you need, not letting you move a muscle or exert yourself for anything, even if it’s more food you’re struggling for. They realize the reason your muscles are nonexistent isn’t solely from your obsession to grow, but also the fact I’m enforcing your growth through constant supervision of your autonomy. That I realized it’s far easier to make you fatter and more dependent by not allowing to do anything for yourself until you can’t do anything for yourself. They’ll watch as you’re already full, but I’m still pushing more forkfuls past your lips, telling you that you’re not finished, that you need more to feel full even if your belly hurts enough to say otherwise. They’ll watch as you pant and your eyes glaze over from the excess and they’ll know that I might be your handler, but I’m not your savior, I’m the reason you’ll never see your feet again <3
