Indulge

Warning: Insensitive language, body stigma.

The fatties aren’t happy this morning. In fact, some might argue that they aren’t truly happy any morning, of any day; Keith Taft is one such person. Keith Taft is thin, and this morning he also happens to be the special guest on Riley Thompson’s podcast, Indulge. Riley Thompson is fat. She’s also upset. Keith Taft doesn’t care.

“You guys are always talking about, ‘trust the science, trust your doctors’, how come that same sentiment doesn’t apply to weight or obesity? It doesn’t track!”

“Keith, my boy, no doctor in America is calling his patients fat slobs. A little fat does not automatically equal obese, or that they have heart problems. You’re just a dick.”

Podcasts like Indulge attract their audiences by pitting two passionate people with large platforms against each other. Keith Taft has over 2 million followers on Twitter, every one of them possessing an active hatred of fat people. Most of the 1.5 million weekly listeners of Indulge are fat girls. Nothing rakes in listeners like deeply opinionated people using inflammatory language and yelling at each other about divisive topics.

“If you’re a fat slob, I mean, you’re a fat slob. You’re lazy, and this is a crisis of our culture, becoming too lazy and too complacent in the way we look, and, frankly, it’s tragic. Sometimes we need a little… course or, or blunt language to set each other straight.”

“Na, man, you’re just, like, a fascist prick. People need to be happy in the way they are, this is Disney shit, this is preschool, we have to love and accept one another.”

“I’m a fascist for having concerns over an increasingly-”

“No, don’t pull this shit. You’re inciting harassment against plus-sized people.” 

“We need to cut this ‘plus-sized’, dancing-around-the-point bullshit out. Facts are facts, and being fat is not healthy. Acting like it is is killing our culture-”

“Here we go again with the ‘killing our culture, facts are facts’ shit, I mean shit, like, none of these facts are actual facts, dude! The number on a scale doesn’t dictate if you’re healthy!”

“Except, it kinda does, Riles, haven’t you heard of BMI? And obesity comes from not putting the right things in your body, which hurts your heart. This is science, it might not be nice or, or what you wanna hear, but it is. Science.” 

He’s right; this is not what she wanted to hear. 

“Keith, you are not a medical professional-”

“Neither are you, Riley, for the record.”

“Noted, thank you. You are not a medical professional, and neither am I, so what gives us the right to comment on one another’s bodies?”

“Lame argument. That’s like saying, ‘well, I’m not a policeman, so I can’t tell that thief to stop robbing the bank’, like, it’s just not wanting to have awkward or uncomfortable conversations. It’s not wanting to accept the facts.” 

“Well, you know what, Keith, the fact is that our country is experiencing a mental health crisis like we have never seen before, and I guarantee you that the explosively critical and hurtful language regarding other’s bodies that you spew on your social media and your YouTube channel is directly feeding this crisis.”

Keith shrugs- he disagrees. Or doesn’t care, jury’s out. The producer calls for a commercial break. So much for unfiltered, right? Indulge is hitting the hammer on the head with their paid endorsements, huh?

Commercial breaks last anywhere between three and six minutes, and provide Riley and the special guest with a break between shouting matches and fits of rage. The dome of the recording studio is silent, save for the buzzing of the soundproofing technology, for a few seconds before the producer confirms that they’re off the air. Collective exhale. 

Keith sinks into his seat as if exhausted, and turns his head over to the producer.

“Good shit. Sounds great so far, so much hate and vitriol,” the producer says, more to himself than to Keith. 

“You know, it’s not really hate, it’s a genuine concern-”

“Are you kidding?! Twitter is gonna rip this shit apart, it sounds so good!” It’s not immediately clear whether the producer is referring to the debate or the actual sound quality.

Keith frowns, sits up, and leaves the recording booth. The door shuts behind him with a click and he’s off to the snacks and refreshments. He turns left down the hall and passes a couple giggling interns undoubtedly live tweeting this fiasco. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened today; a communications coordinator for Indulge gaped and chuckled as Keith entered the building before the stream. I suppose you could say this isn’t neutral territory for the body positivity debate, though nor is it reflective of the people the movement is claiming to center. With the exception of Riley herself, every crewmember is wearing official Indulge merchandise in a size small; they’re sample sized. This doesn’t escape Keith.

At the table, Keith finds the host of the show and his adversary for the morning segment, Riley Thompson, munching on a doughnut and staring blankly at the half empty box.

“Thought I might find you here.” Keith starts.

“Interesting you’re speaking to me, considering the commercial breaks aren’t paid. Well, not you, at least.”

“Oh, and I thought you knew me and my type so well; haven’t you realized we relish any opportunity to harass fat people for their eating choices any chance we get?” Keith gestures to the bitten-into doughnut in Riley’s hand.

“First off, this is old fashioned you sick fuck, and it’s drying the fuck outta my mouth,”

Keith lifts his entire forehead with an eye roll and a frown that says, ‘yikes.’

“Whatever, dick.”

“Now, now, I’m just messin’ around. Just being friendly, you know.”

“You wish we were friends.” Riley says with an awkward tinge. The reply was too quick, like she had rehearsed it. Keith merely sighs in response. Another stupid fucking frown comes with it.

“Don’t fucking frown at me, Keith.” Keith chuckles at this.

“What, am I funny to you?”

“This whole exchange has been something, to say the least of it.” Keith says smugly. Riley huffs and puffs, as one does when exasperated.

“You know, I’ve never seen you flustered like this. You’re usually so stiff and… powerful on air.”

“Oh, so you’re a fan?”

“Would that be a problem if I was?” With every lightning fast, witty response they each push ever closer in the other’s face. 

The subtly heated exchange reaches a disillusioning climax when Keith’s lips hover mere inches over Riley’s, eyes locked, thoughts nowhere but on each other. When your primary mode of communication with your base and means for reputation is a podcast, like it is for Riley, you have a ‘video killed the radio star’ effect on your listeners. Seeing what this person feeding you perspective and partisanship looks and acts like is shellshocking; seeing this person in the flesh warps your preconceived notions of them. It goes without saying that this was very much on Keith’s mind as he bares down on Riley, tensions high and standards feeling so low. Cut.

“Commercial ends in T-minus thirty seconds, debaters and crew back in position ASAP!”

Just like that, Keith and Riley are experiencing blue balls and whiplash in the recording booth.

“No, Keith, calling people pigs and cows is not motivating them to lose weight.”

“Riley, it’s merely tough love.”

“Let people be content with themselves.”

“People are not content if their partners aren’t taking care of themselves!”

The bullshit talking points are flying, as the two come out swinging- sloppily. The poise and class with which the debate was carried before the commercial break is gone. It sounds like a Weight-Watchers support thread on Reddit after a fat right-winger finds it reads. Claims with no evidence, ignorance, flat out lies. It’s sloppy. It’s rushed. It’s uncategorized passion. The producer calls for the second commercial break. As Riley sits up from her seat and takes a swig of water, the producer pulls her aside.

“So, um, what’s… up?” he asks.

“What do you mean, this is great! I think both of our audiences are gonna dig the shit out of this!” Riley says between head twitches to catch a glimpse of the direction Keith walked. 

“No, it sounds sloppy. Like, straight rights episode sloppy.” She doesn’t hear this as she bounces anxiously, itching to tear down the hallway.

“Listen, Riley, just take a breath, and own him. You’re way-” Riley interrupts him by pointing in the direction of the bathroom, implying she has to go. She does not. 

Striding down the hall in the same direction Keith walked, all Riley can think of is smashing her lips into his and feeling his ass through his jeans. Where did this come from? Did she suddenly fancy demeaning language? Was she a masochist? Anatomical fascism now gets her hydrant going? What’s this all about? This is the same guy that said if fat people reinvested their 401ks into liposuction it would be the greatest negative return in history. What is this?

She turns the corner into the dip in the wall where the restroom doors sit ajar, and catches a glimpse of Keith’s eyes darting towards the men’s as he enters. His eyes seem to be saying ‘follow me’. She obliges.

The dingy, eerily sticky floor and fluorescent lighting provided the perfect backdrop for a dirty, cheap, and shameful fuck. Perhaps not even. Riley can feel the bottom of her shoe peeling itself from the floor with every step toward him. Eyes squinting and watering from shit lighting never felt so right. The handicapped stall door sits ajar and inviting, with nothing but future Riley’s regret already unbuckling his belt within. A want never felt so needed. What can I say? After all, the show is called Indulge. Riley and Keith are merely staying on theme.