To kick this comment off, I'd just like to say, LORD BEETUS BE PRAISED!
Although she probably does have it, she is angling for some of that sweet sympathy ALR is getting.
Yeah, I'm sure she thinks the haydurs and reaction channels will back off out of respect for her in this trying time.
In the end, I think Peetz is in a much better position than Chantal because he can always pick up his cat, take his twin bed & comics & move back with mommy.
Which he ought to do, because there's no point, socially or financially in his living anywhere else.
He doesn't have friends over; he doesn't have women spending the night; he doesn't go out to party on weekends and stumble in at 3:00 AM; he doesn't have hobbies that require extra space; all he needs is a standard-sized bedroom and access to a kitchen and bath, and he's good. Unless his mom was really awful or intrusive, or demanding even more money to cover expenses each month than living with Chantal costs, he was just fine at home. He's a solitary, spergy nerdboy; who was going to give him shit for living with his mom? That's expected for guys like him. And it probably cost him a lot less.
Commuting to an office & transportation isn't a consideration anymore since he now works from home, so he doesn't really need Chantal for other than a comic book run. I'm sure he could find a way to get his comics if it meant being away from her.
He could get an Uber, probably for about what it costs to feed Chantal on one of those comics store runs.
I have a feeling they are friends, as long as they don't have to see one another much. Living together & now him working from home has to be too much Chantal time. There's no escape.
Moving in with friends is always a bad idea; you think you know each other really well, but it almost always turns out that you don't, and the stuff you didn't know can be enough to destroy the friendship when you're forced to live with it every goddamned day. Cherish your friends, but move in with strangers. Especially when your friend is a massive, food-obsessed deathpig who can't even host herself out of her car without gasping for breath, much less run a vacuum cleaner.
She’ll just be like all the deathfats with Beetus. They eat what they want, inject themselves with insulin when binging, lose a foot, then two, then have a heart attack and die.
Nobody has lost weight when they aren’t ready to, disease or no. And we know she’s not ready and is resentful as hell this happened. As soon as she sort of learns how to adjust her blood sugar with medicine, that’s what she’ll do.
Exactly. She'll be just like Kelly Lenza, who eats all kinds of garbage, sees intentional weight loss as a form of violence and an assault on her very existence, and whose idea of a nightly bedtime snack is fried chicken. Kelly's been an acolyte of Lord Beetus for a while now, and relies entirely upon insulin to keep her BG levels as in line as they're ever going to get. Once Chantal's grown accustomed to sticking herself with needles, she'll forget all about using diet to manage her BG.
This... this will be what really gets Chantal to turn things around. This time for sure. For real.
Lol, not really. She won't stay on any diet. Never met a diabetic who actually follows their prescribed diet for more than a few weeks at most. Chantal sure as hell won't.
Deatfats definitely don't, but anybody who has allowed themselves to get to deathfat status in the first place has a serious mental health problem that they self-medicate with food, and obviously neither death nor debility is enough to steer them from that course.
The handful of smaller fats I've known who did get their shit together after a type 2 diabetes diagnosis, and managed to bring it under control (if not reverse it), have a few things in common: they were no more than class 1 obese upon diagnosis; they got fat as adults, after being normal-sized kids and teenagers; they weren't food-obsessed, but rather had busy lives that made passively drifting into bad eating habits easy; they were responsible people who generally had other key aspects of their lives in order; and the diabetes diagnosis was their first serious health issue. On top of that, they each had something important that gave their lives meaning (kids; a career; caring for a disabled family member), so there was a strong motivation to reclaim their neglected physical well-being. And, when they lived with other people, those people got on board and were were supportive of the needed dietary changes.
Chantal has absolutely none of that. Worse, garbage-tier food, and her ability to eat it at will, forms the center of her existence, and there is nothing else in her life that could potentially be important enough to convince her to change course. So she'll flail and cry and make a few abortive, half-hearted attempts at adopting a new diet, but she might as well not even bother--we all know that any small and fleeting level of control she does manage to achieve will be solely through using insulin.