A minor, slightly erratic rant regarding fat stereotypes that I endure

Being a female of Rubenesque proportions, people make assumptions about me regularly. Here's the truth: yes, I'm big. But guess what? I'm not diabetic. My blood sugar was so great that the doctor checked it three times because he was convinced that wasn't possible for someone my size. The only time my blood pressure goes out-of-whack is when dealing with jerks and the pains that come with Life. Otherwise, I'm healthy. I've finished 54 races since January 2012, including two half-marathons (13.1 miles...each), a 10K (6.2 miles), and five obstacle runs--something they've never heard off--such as the Spartan Race and the Barbarian Challenge. Some of the finest men I've ever seen in my life have grabbed my hand at races and run with me across finish lines. I'm training for my first marathon (26.2 miles). Newsflash: I'm just getting warmed up. While their butts were asleep or watching TV, I was running at 5 A.M., running at 10 P.M., running in the rain, the cold, the heat, running at night despite my fear of it, running with weapons to protect myself from creeps, walking when I got tired then turning around, going home. Those are things that I do before most people hit their snooze button in the morning or set their alarm clocks at night. I've completed the Insanity program THREE TIMES. I bet my knees are in better shape than 2/3 of the people that assume mine are worn out. My weight will come off when it feels like it. Until then, I'm going to just keep going down the road of health and enjoy the ride. My size does not define me and neither do body-shamers. I'm bigger than that.