As we were pulling in to the Wal Mart parking lot tonight, a very large man came out and started across the crosswalk. My dad and grandma were in the front seat, and I was in the back. My grandma did her usual "LOOK OUT FOR THAT MAN!" thing, because of course no one else can drive; and my dad said he saw him.

And then he added "Jesus Christ, look at that fat fucking slob." Or something along those lines, I forget the exact words. But it pissed me off.

"You have a fat person in the back seat, you know. Don't be nasty." I started. I guess I was a little more vehement than I realized, because my dad sounded sort of surprised when he said "Okay, okay, calm down." My slightly-less-than-with-it grandma hijacked the conversation with some random observation or story or something at that point, so I didn't end up launching into a full-on fat acceptance speech ... but it was right on the tip of my tongue.

I think my dad assumes, like most people do, that I'm perpetually on a diet/thinking about a diet/worrying about being on a diet/whatever. I think he assumes that I think I'm a thin person who just looks fat right now. I don't think he realizes that not only do I look fat, I feel fat (in the way of "this is how I am", not the "OMGGGGGGG I'm such a whale!" way), and I identify as fat. And I'm okay with that. So when he calls some random person walking down the street a "fat fucking slob", I basically think he thinks that about me.

Thanks to my grandma being ... well, herself, I didn't get that far. But I'm sure it'll come up again.