I’m a big guy. Okay, I’m husky. I’ll admit it, although to do so causes a stabbing feeling in my chest that is not indigestion but something deeper – shame. I’m only 25 years old but I feel like an old man. I can’t walk up a flight of stairs without breaking a sweat, and I am virtually invisible to women except when I’m taking up two seats on the train. How I long to be beautiful, but I can’t suppress my urges to eat. It’s a sacrifice I make I suppose. A life without delicious things, condiments, sugary beverages and nightly icecream and a beautiful body? I don’t know, it’s too much to think about.
My shame reached its apex when I had to get oven repairs for my Smeg. Repairs in Sydney are quick and efficient, but I must have taken up hours debating whether to call the company or not. I thought, they’re going to walk into a fat guy’s house and laugh. Who else would need oven repairs other than an obese monster who uses his oven ten times a day? How often do normal-weighted people use their ovens? Once or twice a week to bake pasta or cook a cake, not several times daily to stuff in dim sims, chicken kievs, triple-cheese toasties, oven-ready pizzas, brownies and more. Just thinking about all of this food makes me want to use my oven but alas, I cannot..
Finally I face my fears and call the repairs guy. He says my oven is beyond fixing (with a surreptitious glance at my bulging belly) and recommends I buy a Whirlpool. Repairs around Sydney, he reckons, are less common for Whirlpools, so “you can use them more” Those were his exact words, so I can use it more. Dang, perhaps this no-oven situation is going to be good for me.