A House With Good Bones

by T. Kingfisher

There aren’t many social advantages to being fat, but I’ll give it this, nobody ever thinks you’re a cat burglar.

Which, let’s face it, meant paying an exorbitant amount of money to be told that the problem was that I was fat and if I just dieted and exercised more, I wouldn’t be seeing strange things in the backyard. Half the doctors on earth wouldn’t even bother looking at my chart, they’d just see a fat person and conclude that any and all medical maladies were my own fault for being lazy and overeating. Never mind that I could probably out-hike most of them and my blood pressure is exquisite. I could hop into an ER carrying my severed leg and squirting blood

from the stump and the doctor would congratulate me on having dropped all that leg weight and tell me to keep up the good work.