Wounded fluffy pride.

Good morning!

Fluffy people are judged. It's a fact of life.  People are judged for being fluffy just as much as people of any sect in society, racial, religious, gender, all of that.  If you are fluffy, there are those who are going to make the following assumptions:

1)  You're lazy.
2) You're stupid.
3)  You're clearly suffering from a number of illnesses in addition to being fluffy.

Everyone knows a fluffy person and if you know them well you know none of those points above is true.  And, surprise, none of those three points is true about me.

But, my faithful readers, you deserve to know the thing that most fluffy people suffer from:

Wounded pride.

It's the number one thing we fluffy folk suffer from.  See,when a skinny person falls down, people make some gentle comment about being clumsy and they move on.  When a fluffy person falls down, it's a moment for everyone to laugh. Look, the fat person fell down. Way to go butterball!  Hey, maybe lay off the fried chicken and your legs will be able to hold you up!  Oh yeah, if you could see your feet maybe you'd stay upright.

Fluffy people falling down...we dread it.  Because it's never just, "oh she fell down I hope she's okay."  It's almost always, "Oh dude, the fat chick fell down and made a splat sound."

Most fluffy people jump on those jokes and make them themselves before anyone else can.  It's a defense mechanism.

Which brings me to what happened last night. (and yes, this is the funny part and I hope you totally laugh.)

We have those hanging swing chairs in our front yard. Hubby and I LOVE them.  We sit in those chairs every day. We read, we watch traffic, we wave at neighbors, we comment on cyclists riding by. We pet dogs.

Last night we were doing just that. We were talking about our days while enjoying a lovely breeze.

And then I was on the ground.

Just like that. Boom. On the ground. Swing under me, except for the wooden cross bar, which was lying on top of my head.

I was stunned.  I had no idea what happened.  I mean, one second I'm sitting in a swing, the next minute I'm on the ground.

Hubby helped me up, because yes, fluffy people do have trouble getting up from a flat on your back position. We just do. Like turtles upside down.  All part of the fluffy experience.


Now, when a little kid falls down, they bounce back up and commence playing. When an adult falls down we look around to see if anyone noticed because that's embarrassing.

When a fluffy girl falls because the chain on her tree swing rusted and broke, she knows the neighbors are coming out onto their porches to watch.  And they're staring, like there was a fire truck in my front yard.  And they're talking to other neighbors, people they only talk to when there's a quasi disaster happening on the block.

Yep, I saw you, people who live across the street from me.  Love you, but that prolonged stare did nothing for my self esteem.

Meanwhile, our next door neighbor, a lovely single man with whom we are good friends, happened to walk out of the house.  My husband says, "You will not believe what just happened."

First thing out of his mouth to our neighbor.  I couldn't even beat him to it, which I would have preferred.

So there I'm standing, fluffy girl, broken chain, swing on the ground. Yep, another statistic for obesity.

To their credit, hubby and neighbor searched for all the pieces of broken chain (you know, so hubby doesn't hit it with the lawn mower.)  and hubby did ask if I was okay.

I'm not sure I am.  I mean, I clearly injured my neck muscles because now I can't sit up or turn my head without pain, and I do have a headache in the back of my head.  But worst of all...worst of all my injuries...my wounded pride.

The headache will go away, the neck muscles will ease, and  I'll make a couple jokes about it later, once the swing is fixed with super military grain titanium chains, and all will be well.

That's how fluffy people heal.