The 'F' word




Sitting inside the cozy diner, I was so engrossed in the book I was reading that the chatter around the room, from the group of people and families, filled the air like background noise. It was a local diner in the heart of LA.

My spaghetti and meatballs were slowly being consumed by me, considering half of my attention was on my phone where I was reading a book on the web. Like me, most of the people were busying themselves on their phones.

It was then that someone managed to steal my attention away from the book I was reading. On my left, there were two women: one brunette, wearing a black turtleneck and high-waisted shorts; the other blonde, wearing a black polka-dot shirt, a black scarf, and jeans. It wasn't their looks that made me notice them, because they seemed pretty normal; it was their conversation.

They were watching the new music video by the singer Odell. I'd watched it too; it was pretty cool in my opinion. Their words didn't match my opinion, but that's normal; not everyone shares the same opinion. I shook my head, concentrating back on my book. Then suddenly, the blonde one said something that made me turn my head again.

"She's so fat... I mean, how can someone like her produce a music video? She has some serious guts."

"Yeah, right, such a mood off. I mean, people watch these things to have a good time; she's spoiling it. I can't even see anything other than her fat thighs!" the brunette complained.

"She's overweight; she should know that and try not to show her face until she has it under control. You know, teenagers, kids watch these videos and see these people as role models. What will happen to our country's future when they all decide to stay home and stuff their faces with food until they get this look?" she blabbered, eyes widening by each passing second.

"Horrific," they whispered.

"Indeed," I chirped in. "She looked fat, Miss Fatty."

They both looked at me dumbfounded. The blonde looked furious.

"Excuse me, did you just call me fat?" she asked, pointing a finger towards me.

"Yes, I did."

"Wh-wha... How dare you!" she yelled.

"Well, that singer's weight is '65 kg,' and you are approximately '75.' If she's fat in your eyes, so are you," I finished, a polite smile on my face.

"You can't say that to my face!" she all but screamed.

"Oh, well then, give me your Instagram; I'll comment there," I replied, still in a civil voice.

"Are you nuts! That didn't change anything; it's still offensive."

"So are you," I stood, stepping closer to them.

"I just said what I saw, sweetheart; we have freedom of speech," she mocked.

"Then basically you didn't like what you saw?" I asked politely.

"Yeah, it literally hurt my eyes," they both chuckled.

"Well then, I feel really bad for you. You have to watch yourself every time in the mirror, you know, all that unpleasantness..." They were both speechless by this point.

I stepped up, patting her shoulder. "Well then, I wish you the best of luck. You have a tough life."

Stepping away, dropping the money and some tips on the table, I made a beeline for the door. They had initially recovered from their shock by this point.

Then I turned again. "By the way, there's a drugstore on the corner of this street. Feel free to buy some eye drops for your eye burn; they work," I winked at them, walking away.
 

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