InTheMorning
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Mar 15, 2019
She's a ways from losing feet or toes from the beetus. That's the end game, it could take years - she might still be in "pre-diabetic" range, diabetes is a spectrum. She's on it, but by some weird circumstances isn't needing meds yet, but you know every doctor that's seen her horrific bulk has warned her. Same for sleep apnea. Those are just byproducts of weighing more than 5 times what she should. Worrying about these issues is like being concerned about your car's tire pressure when it shit it's engine guts out and left pistons and oil on the road 10 miles back.So is she going to be 29 or 30 this year? Because this is the age when youth doesn't bail you out anymore. With normal humans that might mean you have to skip an extra snack or two but Al eats like a week's worth of food for a normal person every day. I would be shocked if she didn't have beetus at the very least. The ER tests would have told her that & I bet she thought she'd diet the beetus away (failed) so now she'll ignore it until her laygs and feet are dead. Then she'll have a real excuse for not walking.
If I gave a shit, I'd be angry or irked or something, because Type 2 diabetes and sleep apnea are easily controlled and managed conditions, but why bother, when she's intent on packing on 600 ell bees and insisting on inhaling platters of food every day? The 600 lbs is the end result of a fucked up, rotted brain, not external forces*. Any doctor will give the same advice: here's how to manage the conditions from being a fat fuck, but your job is to lose weight, fatty. And a lot of it. You're seeing her reaction to years of that same advice: NOPE. You're sweating the symptoms and side effects, when the cure is her not opening her mouth several times a day to inhale enough food to feed a starving family in Guatemala.
She doesn't give a fuck about walking. She doesn't give a fuck about diabetes. She doesn't give a fuck about sleep apnea.
If she did, she'd do something about it.
Type 2 diabetes is not a death sentence. It's (sadly) common, and not a big mystery in how to manage: healthy diet, exercise, don't be a human walrusmonster. Fatties lose weight and reverse it all the time, by not being fatties anymore. It's pretty cool, it's like, if you treat your body with respect and take care of it and heal it, it does what it's supposed to, like use insulin correctly. Crazy talk, I know!
Broken record: all she cares about is eating. That's the sum of her life, eating. That's the only thing she wants to "share", eating. Walk a dog? Gurl, that cuts into eating time. Everything else in her life is just how she fills the empty minutes until she can eat again. As her symptoms and issues grow, she just adjusts, and keeps eating. When she's bed bound (soon), she'll make fake-chipper rationalizations that "it's not that bad, I get more time to reflect how awesome and powerful I am, and insperashunal!", and wave her trotter and oink how nobody knows what they're talking about, she's FINE. [dumb emojies].
* Her life is a dead lawn, with her brain as a rotted stump in the middle of it. You have two choices, when dealing with rotted stumps: sit a planter on it and pretend it's "quaint", or yank that rotted fucker out, and replant, for new, healthy growth.
Guess what she's chosen.