Let me tell y'all about the drama-causing fattie at Target yesterday. So I had to go to Target yesterday to pick up a few things, and what do I see when I pull into the parking lot? An ambulance, a full-sized firetruck, and an extra van with an emergency response logo on the side, all lined up right in front of the entrance. Now, I know I've been lurking around here too long, because literally my very first thought was, "Oh god, it's a fat. It's a fat it's a fat it's a fat, it's gotta be a fat."  Would you guys believe me if I said I was right? Because holy fuck, was I ever right. I'm walking up to the entrance and I can see the little raised stretcher thing (is that called a gurney, medical shitfolk? It looked like it could be raised/lowered), and that there's a woman (I use that term loosely) on it. I can only see her top half, as her bottom half is wrapped in a sheet that an EMT or someone with them is holding up, like a sling to keep her feet together. Okay, that's weird, but whatever. I've gotten in the habit of trying to guesstimate weights, just for fun and to test my spatial awareness, and from her top half I estimated her around 350, 400 pounds maybe? And then the nice emergency responder lowers the sheet, exposing her legs, and one of her feet slips off the gurney. Do you know why? Because this butter bitch could not have fit both her feet on the gurney. I swear on my favorite size 2 Levi's, her calf alone had to have been a foot, foot and a half in diameter, and was stuffed into these bright lavender leggings that looked like they weren't long for this world. I've seen some gross-looking swollen beetus lower legs, both here and IRL, but even with these covered in leggings I could tell how bad they were, simply by how totally disproportionate they were to the rest of here. You know that 350, 400 pound estimate I mentioned up a paragraph? In my head, that number was immediately revised to this purple everything eater being a strong candidate for My 600-Lb Life. That's when I got why they'd had her wrapped in the sheet, they had to have a guy physically hold both her legs together on the gurney because her legs were so disproportionately massive, they could not fit on there together. They could not lay side-by-side. I ducked into the store at this point, as I couldn't really get away with gaping anymore, picked up a few things speedy quick (as you can do that when you're human-sized), and headed to the register, figuring I could try to pry for a little info from the up-fronts. The following is the approximate conversation I had with my checker: Me: Didn't expect to see the firemen at Target today! Everyone okay? Her: Yeah, I think that lady just had an anxiety attack. Cue a confused look from me. I've got a best friend with anxiety and panic, I've seen and helped her through things and it's nasty but no one's called an ambulance on her. Me, clearly confused: . . . anxiety? Her: Yeah, she thought she might be having a heart attack, but if they thought it was one, she'd be out of here a long time ago and at the hospital already, and they're still out there. Me: So she just, like, THOUGHT she was having a heart attack? Her: Something like that. She told us to call an ambulance, but the paramedics made it clear pretty quick it wasn't actually one, so I think she was just anxious. Sure enough, when I exited, the firetruck was gone, leaving the two other vehicles. Bloated soon-to-be-corpse was still on the gurney, but no one was attempting to support her legs anymore, so one was on there and the other was just sort of hanging off the side and looking like it was going to pull the rest of her off, if it didn't just drop off. The icing on the cake, however, was the fact that one of the EMTs was saying something to her about, like, "Just try and sit up slowly" and "you're fine to move some more," like he had to encourage her or she was just gonna keep laying there, her flab slowly pancaking out further. That convinced me that yeah, nothing was actually wrong.  But seriously, how fat do you have to be to feel something strange and automatically assume it's a heart attack? Have they given in and accepted their fate so completely that they're like yeah, it's just something that happens??? When my uncle had a heart attack, it took him a while to even think that maybe he should go to the hospital because he was slim, fit, in his forties, etc etc, and his first thought was definitely that he was having a heart attack. Honestly, I'm curious what it was beyond it's usual pained state that made Eternal Leg Day think it was having a heart attack; particularly bad heartburn, maybe? Here's a photo I snapped as I was exiting the parking lot, because their fat totally doesn't affect anyone by blocking entryways and pulling important emergency responders from other work: https://sli.mg/h6hAHm TLDR: Beetus Foot Betty most likely has a rare moment of self-reflection and introspection about the condition she's gotten herself in; mistakes the feeling for a heart attack; causes drama at Target; pray for your local emergency responders. Here I was, thinking driving a little further to Target would be worth it to avoid Walmart. How wrong I was.