Ok, So they’re always asking me, “Day, why you go so hard on the fat people?”…
I love fat people. Fat people who love themselves are the best people around. They have a genuine warmth about them. And not just from the extra girth, from the heart too. This isn’t about them. This is about the ones who couldn’t care less about themselves, or anyone else in their buttery paths. The ones I want to set free into the ocean in hopes that they can’t swim. But who am I kidding? They’d float on top of the water like garbage bags full of yogurt, until they reached England, where they’d roam the streets like Godzillas, looking for super sized meals and toothpaste. Neither of which exist on that island.
The Obese Shall Inherit The Earth
America is yours, but not all yours. Not yet. You’re the majority here and multiplying rapidly, so it’s only a matter of time before you engulf the continent, sinking it into the ocean. Until then, I’m still here. So can I get some room on the fucking bus, homie? I hate watching a blimpie get on an almost crowded bus and slowly make their way towards my seat. I’m pretty thin and not too menacing looking, so I know they’re coming for me. They pour into the seat like hot putty against my body, smashing me into the window. They may or may not have a smell, depends on how well they wash between the folds. Then they have the nerve to exhale the air they were holding in to fit into the seat. So now I got a lap full of jelly to accompany me during my commute. Sweet. I feel like if you’re going to do something like that, be polite. Say something like, “Hey, would you mind holding one of my stomachs until we get downtown?” At least that way I don’t feel so molested by the end of the trip.
And three seats though? The bus is packed. I’m standing there next to you while you sit comfortably in three fucking seats. What gives you the right to those two extra seats? You’re not handicapped. You weren’t born three seats big. Your fat isn’t an accident. You didn’t cross the street and get hit by fat. You didn’t serve in a war and come home with Post Traumatic Fat Syndrome. I don’t feel bad for you in the slightest bit. In fact, you could probably stand to lose some of the calories it would take to stand this whole ride. Let me and two other people have your one seat. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of one inconsiderate grease trap. You can fit like six bad ass kids and a welfare check in the space you greedily take up. How do you feel about that, Mr. and Mrs. Tubbington? Hungry? Not surprised…
Whine and Cheese
I’m sick of hearing how hard it is to lose weight. We don’t hear these complaints in third world countries, so I’m assuming it’s more of a mind over endless matter entering your face hole kinda thing. I’m not advocating weight loss. If you’re big and you’re proud, more power to you, my pleasantly plump friends. But to you lazy ass whiny types, diet and exercise are not a secret. “But Day, my metabolism”. Fuck your metabolism. Science says if you burn more calories than you intake, you lose weight. It might not happen overnight. It may take months before you see any significant change. But I assure you, it will happen. I hear people complaining about how they’ve tried for months without any results. Unless someone is stuffing whole chickens in your mouth while you’re sleeping, you’re either not trying hard enough and lying to yourself, or not trying at all and lying to everyone else. Either way, I’m left wondering what the fuck got caught between your back fat and died, as you slowly walk past me on the street. Hose that shit out.
The lengths some of you go through to lose weight or appear to lose weight are ridiculous. Man girdles, really? Just when you thought moobies had taken away all of your dignity, the mirdle shows up to find the little bit you had buried somewhere and wipe it’s ass with it. You should be ashamed of yourself, fam. Who are you trying to impress? I hope it’s not anyone you want to take home tonight. How do you explain that? Even with the lights off, she’s going to feel the extra blanket you just unleashed on her. She may even think there’s another person in the room. If you’re lucky, she’ll be into that sort of thing (you wear a mirdle, you’re not a lucky person).
What do you mean you’re getting gastric bypass surgery? “Oh but Day, it’s for my health. I need it or I’ll die”. You knew this a hundred pounds ago. Fat like that doesn’t sneak up on you. People aren’t having fat attacks in their sleep. You didn’t catch fat from the dude you slept with last week, or a toilet seat at McDonald’s. You didn’t forget to get your fat vaccine this winter. No, deadly fat is a gradual process, one you ignored for years and are now looking to science to cure. Like a crack head begging for change, instead, you go to science with your cup full and ask them to empty it for you. I’m finding pity hard to come by over here. Prevention is the moral of this story.
To wrap it up, here are a few quick things you should stop doing, if you’re morbidly obese, that will make you easier to get along with:
Stop wearing bright colors. I don’t know where you people are finding these circus tents to wrap yourselves in, but stop it. The real elephants need a place to perform, and we already have a bright sphere for the Earth to revolve around.
Stop procreating if you’re too big to take care of your kids. That means running after them if they’re about to run into the street, disciplining them with something other than a back scratcher when they’re in reach, feeding them foods that don’t come in bags with arches on them, going to parent teacher conferences w/o folding the non folding chairs, and playing catch. You don’t have to run around or even throw it back. Just be able to fit out of your doorway, and comfortably in a backyard or pasture.
Cover yourself. Make sure your rolls are all tucked in everywhere. If you have to, stuff some in your shoes. This doesn’t mean buy a mirdle! Just wear clothes that fit. If they don’t make clothes that fit, take a sewing class.
Stop drinking diet coke and wearing shape ups in public. Nobody believes you.
Finally, love yourself. You’re not alone. As I stated earlier, you’re the majority. Stop trying to fit in with what the media tells you is sexy and be yourself. It’s ok to be big and beautiful. It’s not ok to be lazy and inconsiderate. Surround yourself with people who love you, and fuck the rest. It’s amazing how a little self respect can change a person’s behavior and make them more… jolly…
“Anyone wanna come over & fondle my junk? Forgot to put the trash out this morning & I’m looking for someone w/a garbage fetish to come get it…”