You're so fat you're bad for MY heart So quick backstory, I have a cardiomyopathy and since my diagnoses ~10 years ago I have since been hyper aware of my heart rate, if it is too fast, slow, "heavy" or fluttering, if I have palpitations or tachycardias. This awareness is very common for people with my heart condition. Many cardiomyopathy patients therefore develop methods with which they can, to some degree, voluntarily control their heart rate, usually using breathing/counting rhythms similar to people who meditate or do those "underwater for 10 minutes!!" magic tricks. It allows you to slow your heart in times of stress, panic, or unsafe beat rhythm. So long story short, if I concentrate on a rhythm, or if I feel one physically (such as being too close to club speakers and having it reverberate) then my heart can sort of sync up to it. This isn't always voluntary and can sometimes happen subconsiously, though, because I have been doing this for so long I don't always realize when it happens. So to the fat hate: I am warming up for my daily workout by walking on a treadmill at the gym. Walking for 10 minutes is good enough to get the old ticker used to moving around before starting on the weights. Meanwhile, a massive fucking lardbeast is running beside me. I am surprised that it is actually running and keeping the pace, so maybe someday a new human will join our ranks, but I digress. The fatty slams its feet one after the other onto the treadmill, thUMP thUMP thUMP thUMP which shakes the floor all around it. I try to ignore the heatwave of super-scented antiperspirant and sweat, making me think of febreezing an old gym bag, leaking from its neck and armpits. thUMP thUMP thUMP thUMP I check my time and have only been going for about 3 minutes so I will have to put up with it just a bit more, I'll watch the kids skating on the rink below the weight room to pass the time thUMP thUMP thUMP thUMP the panting is grossing me out and I am feeling weirdly stressed, and a bit light headed? My speed is the usual 2.5 whatever units this thing uses, no faster than walking down the street from one store to the next thUMP thUMP thUMP thUMP I know something is up and I put my hands on the heart monitor built into the treadmill and it shows 146bpm which is WAY over my cardiologist-approved rate for just walking. I think the monitor must be inaccurate so I look up to the clock and put my hand to my neck to count for myself and I thUMP thUMP thUMP thUMP notice that the heart beat is thUMP thUMP thUMP thUMP synced up to the god damned fatass thUMP thUMP thUMP thUMP huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf thUMP thUMP thUMP thUMP before it's about to eat the three little pork briskets. No. Fucking. Way. This fat bastard's stomps were so thunderous that it was giving me a goddamn arrhythmia. This has got to be the most fucked up thing that has ever happened to me. Ever. I have to record this though, because when I fly out to the heart clinic to see my cardiologist in the summer he's going to run my defibrillator on this weird computer thing because it records 6 months of data to track my condition, and he's going to need an explanation for this.  8:15 pm, March 4, 2016 - fatass runner gives me arrhythmia via reverberation. Richter scale in next town also records event. I don't even know how this poor bastard is going to react to this. Bonus fat hate:  Fatty's highly perfumed antiperspirant combined with sweat was worse than plain old sweat. This is a scent-free facility, but fatty of course doesn't care. Bossham who snacks on beetus all day won't join me at the gym due to cundishuns but I go despite having the number one cause of unexpected death in young athletes chewing up my heart, because you know, thin people just don't understand that fat people have conditions that prevent them from exercising. Thin privilege is not knowing how hard medical condishuns can be, I guess. Gonna need surgery to replace my defibrillator for the fourth time in a few years but w/e, privilege. Nothing compared to having a tummyache. Poor bossham. Preggerham got in trouble with EVERYONE for being a shitty employee, snapped at bossham who of course let her have her way in the shoe shop because he is a doormat. I took over pregger work that was not getting done, angered the preggerham, then was officially delegated the task by bossham because I am the only competent person there. Preggerham's pride was crushed faster than a cheeto beneath her feet. Preggerham is ~30 years old and look to be about 8 months pregnant. No, wait, I find out today the ham is actually only ~20 and isn't due for another 4 months. She's just huge. Her stretch marks look like pulled pork. I wonder what her gestational beetus test said, she hasn't told us yet. So shitizens, what is the most fucked up way fat has affected YOU? edit: grammar etc