When someone walks into my store with man-eating cankles and the spandex leggings that valiantly attempt to hold everything ON the body of the clinically obese person, I feel guilty. Never does one of them order just plain water like they should, it is always breve lattes with 12 pumps of white mocha, extra caramel and whipped cream. I have to serve them just like I would a skinny person getting tea. I feel like an enabler giving them the means to kill themselves. One of these days there will be a lawsuit about some obese person dying from a heart attack and the family will try to bring charges against McDonalds or Starbucks for serving the deceased beyond capacity. Assisted suicide. Because the only thing Americans love more than fatty foods is a good lawsuit.