I am overweight. I know this. I live with this. And I always have.
Growing up, my father would become suddenly violent and constantly hurt me with his words and fists; when he was finally finished, I would always waddle to the fat-filled sanctuary of various foodstuffs that I had hidden to find what little relief I could in all kinds of nasty eats, the chub-inducing grub a comforting consort that was always there, always loving me, always healing me.