Цитаты из книги Nothing Tastes as Good

Our country is entering the fourth decade of a war on fat, and we are losing. Years of education on nutritious eating and healthy active lifestyles have failed to penetrate the bulging layers of ignorance, denial, and inertia swallowing up our common sense. The obese masses have proven themselves incapable of lifting themselves out of their physical and rational decline when doing so demands prolonged effort and sacrifice.

He’s full, but the Hunger remains. Always. The need to gorge, as sharp and primal as fear. A rampant desire that only the threat of sickness can sate.

“Emmettito, listen to me.” She touched his shoulder, turning him to face her. “You’re my best friend. I love you no matter what you do.” She hesitated, swallowed. “I’ll be honest, this is a lot to take in. The idea of you eating a guy is pretty fucking foul. I mean of all the crazy diets you’ve done over the years, this is by far the worst one.”

Who needed family or friends, Emmett thought, when they had the kindness of strangers?

FD: It doesn’t sound like he was ever violent or malicious, though? CT: When he was angry, sure. He had a temper. We all do in our family. But his was the kind you didn’t see coming. Most of the time he’d play all quiet and shy, but piss him off and he’d turn on a fucking dime. One time I grabbed a can of Pringles out of his hand like, Hey, save some for the rest of us, and he fucking clawed the shit out of me.

Now that I’m down to a 2XL, I can finally buy clothes in-store again, and they look so much better on me. Almost like they’re SUPPOSED to look, not like rafts of cotton stretched over a bundle of party balloons lol.

Worse than dumb, Emmett found such stories insulting; they denied his lived reality, presenting a view of the world so untainted by bias and hate they may as well be shelved in the fantasy section.

The cruelty of others tattooed into his psyche by years of tiny, needling pricks. Being here only amplified the voice in his head. The further he pushed himself out of his comfort zone, the more loudly his self-loathing urged him back into the safety of home. Home, where he couldn’t impose his abnormality on others. The one place he could exist totally free from judgment.

The whole thing made him uncomfortable; somehow, being fetishized for a body he hated was worse than being rejected.

Feeling my way around in the dark, I’d eat whatever I could get my hands on—Doritos, Triscuits, Goldfish, slices of plain bread—always open bags and boxes. A bit from each, finishing none of them, making sure no one noticed that I’d gorged. I’d shovel them down as fast as I could, as quietly as I could. The faster I ate, the better it hurt.

I just feel like we were never taught about food as fuel for our bodies. For us, food was happy, food was comfort, food was a release valve for our stress.

He began to follow, but his feet failed him. A lizard-brained impulse tugged him back toward the food. His hunger was no longer hunger but something more urgent, more insistent. A climbing white-hot need for satisfaction, as overwhelming as orgasm.

It was the hit of fatty protein he craved, the refined carbohydrates spiking his blood sugar, that first anesthetizing wallop of fullness—a literal gut punch of relief.

And you’re right, daring to be a fat person in the world is a never-ending saga of degradation.

That was the most fucking offensive, fatphobic sci-fi bullshit I’ve heard in a minute.

While Emmett often felt too big for the world, Lizette lived as if it were the world that wasn’t the right size.