Tirnath had a whole raft of weight problems. They still made clothes in his size. He fit through doorways. He could still walk around and didn’t require a mobility scooter. These were problems.

He’d been working on this gradually as a long term project, but today Tirnath hit a limit. Not a weight limit, but an end to his patience.

The dragon loved his body, the shapes, how warm and safe he felt in it. Tirnath learned to deal with the endless barbs about his size. But at least those people wore their disdain on their sleeve. It was the “concerned” people he’d finally had enough of. That he was “too fat” and they were “concerned” for his health. Too fat for what? Too fat for their liking was the unspoken statement. Too fat to be seen with; they were ashamed by proxy. But always they hid their fatphobia under the guise of “concern,” as if to appear virtuous. That it was his problem, his shame, not their own.

Enough. All those remarks, all that anger…from today onward, rather than stifling those feelings, he would turn that energy inward, pushing that much harder toward his goals. You’re going to shame him for ordering two meal combos? You’re “concerned?” Fine. Make it three meal combos. Or four!

You think I’m “too fat?” You have no idea how fat a dragon can get.

(10XL sweats. 6XL dive skin. Lots of pillows. Smitizen dragon mask. Some Photoshop to hide seams and zipper.)