A long rant about my family that got me banned from another site. Was told to come here so here I go. I hate fat people. Is it wrong to say I hate my mother? My mother passed away this March. She was only 46 years old. She never had the chance to see her son (17) graduate from high school this June. She never had the chance to see me graduate from college. Both of her feet had to be removed and she was bed-ridden. Come to find out, she knew that she had diabetes since before I was born and never bothered with insulin or changing her lifestyle. She weighed over 300 pounds at the time of her death, 497 at her highest. While bed-ridden, she needed someone to take of her. Being over 300 pounds meant that she couldn't move. Someone needed to wash her, clean her wounds, and take care of her every whim. That someone was me. Now before I get any further, I am narcoleptic and extremely hemophobic. I can't deal with blood - I literally faint every time I see it. It's so past the point of just discomfort that I still attend a therapist to deal with my periods (and more recently about what I'm about to describe below). I know it's pathetic and I hate to admit it but this leads into my next point. I'm sure very few of you shitlords have ever cleaned a bedsore and by god should you be thankful for that fact. For a year, I gave my mother sponge-baths which meant seeing them. Bedsores bleed. I fainted over and over and over again... Just to awake and be screamed at by my belligerent demanding mother for not taking care of her. I would have to bathe her blindfolded, feeling them and feeling her disgusting oozing fat. When she started losing weight, I would have to feel her disgusting lifeless folds. When she began skipping dialysis, I had to deal with liquid oozing out of her pores on her legs and fupa. My mother was placed on a diet but a fat person's mind never changes. She would scream at me for preparing the meals the doctor recommended and throw things when I refused to buy her junk food. When she ate, she ate fast. And smacked. And licked her fingers. And the bowl. And made sure every little bite found a way into her endless stomach. The smell was the worst part. No matter how much I cleaner her, she always smelled. Even worse was when I would find rotting food on her fat folds from the junk food my brother and father would feed her at night. Before her death, I was depressed and suicidal. I was forced to go on a personal leave in my college and quit my dream internship to become my mother's servant. My narcoleptic attacks became worse and three days before she passed away, I had purchased my escape method.  So why post this now, months after she's gone? My brother who just turned 19 years old was diagnosed with type two diabetes today. He weighed in at 331 pounds. He refuses to lose weight because he "wants to be a chef and being fat means you can cook good." My dad blames his diabetes on genetics because my mom had it. He refuses to diet and I know he will end up just like my mother. I want to die. I'll probably end up taking care of him in a few years when his feet get removed. To any fat fucks reading this, lose weight. Don't do this to your family. Don't make your family members become your personal servants. I don't know you but I fucking hate you and all you are. Your fucking fat does affect others and one day, your family will have to suffer because of it. Just a suggestion: if you don't want to lose weight, why don't you go ahead and take your life in a faster way? You're already commiting suicide. Don't be selfish and take your family down with you. Rant over.