All I wanted was a cup of coffee... And instead, my spirit was finally broken. This will be my first post, though I began reading FPH on Reddit a year or so ago. I remember the day my boyfriend first showed me the FPH front page. I read a few posts and said, "Oh my gosh. They're so mean!" Then I shrugged. "But... I mean, they're not wrong though, are they?" Ever since, I've shared amusing stories of encounters of the fat kind with my boyfriend, but I always felt too guilty to actually post anything. Although today was not even the worst fat encounter I've had, my willpower has finally collapsed. Insert comparison to fat joints, or poor furniture in the wrong place at the wrong time. So here goes. This morning, I decided to try a new coffee place, so I left my house. Seeing as I live in one of the fattest major cities in the States, my day often goes downhill after that decision. Within minutes, I found myself having to wait for a woman who seemed to have issues with basic driving-related competencies. She had the right of way, so I waited while she struggled to find a time to u-turn. I saw many opportunities, but hey, some people are more timid than others. I continued to wait, trying to not think evil thoughts about her large soccer mom mobile and multiple suburban mom car type stickers. After several minutes, she finally completed a u-turn, and I was immediately able to make my own turn across five lanes. I had a sinking feeling this whole time, and as luck would have it, we both pulled into the coffee house parking lot. I tried to get out of my car as fast as possible, but, likely fearing I would be able to order before her and take all of the pastries, the driver of the car (who had already parked in the closest spot to the door, of course!) burst from her SUV in all her many, many pounds of glory. Fatty was with a younger and quite fit friend. Both were wearing athletic clothes. Trying to be zen and positive, I thought to myself, "Well, it's the end of January, and she's still keeping up at the gym! Maybe--" But no. As she waddled to the front door on legs that looked like melted candles, I heard her explain to Fit Friend why she didn't work out with her that morning. "Well I realized I'd have to wash my hair, then I'd have to dry it and do it again, and it'd just take forever!" I shall point out what Fit Friend was too polite to: Fit Friend's hair was 2-3 times longer than Fatty's, and despite having endured the rigors of a dreaded gym morning, it still looked much nicer and cleaner than Fatty's well-rested locks. But Fit Friend just nodded and followed Fatty into the coffee house. Fit Friend got in line at the register as someone else ordered, but Fatty grabbed her arm and insisted they go several feet away and gape at the pastries, as Fatty was not sure what she wanted and needed to understand all of her options. I got in line and admired the many different coffee-making methods that were going on behind the counter. When the person in front of me finished ordering, Fatty pranced over and ignored me, pushing Fit Friend in front to order. Fit Friend apologized and seemed confused about whether I should order first, but I thought her burden in life was heavy enough that morning without Fatty's blood sugar dropping, so I told Fit Friend it was fine. Fit Friend quickly ordered and paid, then stepped to the side and thanked me. Fatty rolled on up to the counter without glancing at me, and the conversation went a little like this-- Fatty: "What sugar-free syrups do you have?" Worker 1: "Uhmm... They're all right here..." Fatty stares expectantly, and Worker 1 lists them, even though they are clearly displayed behind the counter. Fatty: "Okay. I want a plain coffee with room for a lot of cream, and eight pumps of sugar-free vanilla." Silence for a moment, in which I convince myself I misheard and am awful to have tricked myself into thinking this person just ordered EIGHT PUMPS of syrup. Surely she must have said A pump, right? I suppose Worker 1 had similar thoughts. Worker 1: "Did... Did you say... eight pumps?" Fatty: "Yes, of vanilla. Sugar-free though! I don't know why though because now I'm just gonna go for the chocolate chip banana bread! HAHAHAHA! Go figure, right?" Worker 1 smiles weakly and puts in the order. Fatty prances off, having already instructed Fit Friend to find her a table. Worker 1 must not have realized I was standing behind Fatty, because as another girl came up to help her make drinks, she passed her the receipt with the order and a big 8 with a circle around it, pointed to the 8 and said, "That's for EIGHT PUMPS of sugar-free vanilla. And lots of cream." They both got shit-eating grins on their faces. Worker 2: "So she basically wants a latte?" [But wanted to pay the price for a regular coffee. A dollar saved at breakfast is a dollar earned at dessert!] Worker 1: "But SUGAR-FREE vanilla." Worker 1 noticed me out of the corner of her eye and jumped and turned red. She didn't strike me as someone who is normally rude, so I imagine she felt embarrassed that a customer heard her talking shit. I ordered a coffee, and she asked if I needed room for cream and sugar. I said, "No, nor any sugar-free vanilla." She snorted. I left a tip.