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twatwaffle (twat-wah-full):
n.1 An elitist; someone unaware of their own limitations and highly critical of others.

I have read Samantha Brick’s post “Why women hate me for being beautiful” probably fifty times. It has never made sense to me.

It is the first post that I have ever read that no part makes any sense to me. Like really, no part made sense. It was incredibly insulting to me.

I tried to understand it. In fact, I tried to rewrite it in a way that would make sense to me………

“Why people hate me for being overweight”

By: Tony Posnanski

 On a recent flight to New York, I was delighted when a stewardess came over and gave me a seat belt extender.
‘This is from the captain — he wants to welcome you and thank you for buying two seats,’ she explained.
You’re probably thinking ‘what a lovely surprise’. But while it was lovely, it wasn’t a surprise. At least, not for me.
Throughout my adult life, I’ve regularly had laughs and desserts sent to my restaurant table by men I don’t know. Once, a well-dressed chap bought my Taco Bell when I was standing behind him in the queue, which was well over thirty dollars, while there was another occasion when a charming gentleman gave me extra samples of food at Costco for no reason.
Another time, as I was walking through London’s Portobello Road market, I was tapped on the shoulder and told I was the largest man he had ever seen. Even bar tenders frequently shoo my credit card away when I try to settle my bill. They just would love for me to leave without breaking a chair.
And whenever I’ve asked what I’ve done to deserve such treatment, the donors of these gifts have always said the same thing: my pleasing appearance and sweatiness made their day to tell others of my obesity.
While I’m no Jackie Gleason, I’m short, fat, bald and, so I’m often told, a portly fellow. I know how lucky I am. But there are downsides to being obese — the main one being that other women hate me for no other reason than my looks.
If you’re a woman reading this, I’d hazard that you’ve already formed your own opinion about me — and it won’t be very flattering. For while many doors have been closed (literally) as a result of my looks, just as many have been metaphorically slammed in my face — and usually by men and women.
I’m not smug and I’m no flirt, yet over the years I’ve been dropped by countless friends who felt threatened if they were merely in the presence of an obese man. If their partners dared to actually talk to me, a sudden chill would descend on the room.
And it is not women wives who have frozen me out of their lives. Bosses have also barred me from promotions at work.
And most poignantly of all, not one girl as a youth ever told me I was attractive.
You’d think we would applaud each other for taking pride in our appearances.
Until recently, I never worked at mine — I don’t drink or smoke, I did not work out, and very often succumb to chocolate. Unfortunately men and women find nothing more annoying than someone else being the most overweight man in a room.
Take last week, out eating hot dosg a neighbour passed by in her car. I waved — she blatantly blanked me. Yet this is someone whose sons have stayed at my house, and who has been welcomed into my home on countless occasions.
I approached a mutual friend and discreetly enquired if I’d made a faux pas. It seems the only crime I’ve committed is not leaving the house overweight. She doesn’t like me, I discovered, because she views me as a threat. The friend pointed out I am shorter, heavier and older than my neighbor.

Yet, it still made no sense.

So I read some blog replies. Most of them were cordial and started off with “I can see where she is coming from…….”

I can not.

Maybe because being beautiful is not a curse. Having addictions, diseases and tragedies in life can be considered tough. Maybe because I have spent my whole life being called ugly and stupid.

Until I changed a little and people did compliment me a little. Maybe because being complimented is one of the best feelings in the world.

Maybe because I write in a community where we strive for a nice remark. Where we love the sweetness after being insulted for so long.

Either way, being beautiful is not a curse. You know what is, not finding yourself beautiful.

And too many people who are beautiful do not find themselves that way.

So either way, form your own opinion. I just wanted to give my two cents.

And sorry for the title, but twatwaffle was the only word that came to mind.

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