It was my twenty-fourth birthday, on October nineteenth, which I would mark as the beginning of the end of my functional fat life. Up until then I could get away with being the funny guy that occasionally went over the line by saying hurtful things to friends, family, and coworkers. I was always forgiven, because as I'd overheard my high school student government advisor and German teacher say to my senior class homecoming planning committee, "he just seems so unhappy as it is, so why would you listen to anything he says?”
Leave it to the German teacher to excuse politeness.
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