If you were to ask me why I am so bitter about everything, I'd probably tell you to go put a lemon up your ass. For the years that I have been using my words as weapons of your-self destruction, I seldom look back at anything that I say in regret. If the dress you were wearing brought my lunch back up, I'm going to let the world know that you should not have chanced the likelihood of potentially ruining everyone's evening with your hippo in a cat suit garb on a coin toss. That's just the person I am. I sorries.
I don't know what it is that bugs people about individuals who speak their mind. If I have to sit and read your shitty myspace surveys or your one sentence bulletins depicting how your heart is sinking faster than the Titanic because some short skirted strumpet is fucking all of your neighborhood fellows, I should not be bedeviled by you artificial flavored bleeding hearts for the berries of brass tacks that adieu my piehole. For the plethora of ridiculous verbal garbage that I hear everyday, you would think that the lighthearted yet painfully true thoughts that I harbor would be taken in like a breath of fresh air in New Jersey. The idea that everyone is truly ashamed of themselves is becoming more and more tangible to me by the day.
To walk around a half-assed downtown and see the real trash that merrily drifts along without a care in the world really is beginning to take a toll on my evaluation of my own self worth. What is the "real trash", you might ask. Picture (and this is mere coincidence that this was my first example) a morbidly obese woman in her 20s at a college campus. A real foodhound. A woman so infatuated with caloric intake that she and Jared from Subway could have their own segment on the next installment of Beef dvds. Shitbomb could not label this woman correctly. I'm pretty sure the only moniker that you can marshal from the bowels of your upset stomach is a face crossed between sucking a mega sour lemon and having one of those number two catastrophes where your face resembles Terry Shiavo. If you have managed to drum up a visual in your head, we can move on to the problem (aside from her astonishingly appalling yet applaudable weight):the clothes. I don't know what it is about uglies that need to sport duds that read "Hottie" all over your dumpy, flapjacks all day, crisco courting ass. Not only do you look like you killed a cheerleader and took her clothes, but now you've also adopted her stupidity for wearing clothes with misspelled words on them.***read the end, just forget what you think I may be an idiot for.
This is just an instance of self loathing. Why would someone who clearly has an eating conundrum defile her self esteem and her wits with lewd inappropriate clothing...because its "cuuuuute teehehe"??? No. I am about to break down the clogged arteries and syrup induced bloodstreams that is the fat person.
Eating is an addiction, just as bad as your worst drug or your best piece of booty. If bitches aint shit to you, pussy will never have a stronghold over your mind and more importantly, your balls. If you do drugs and don't let drugs do you, the golden wonka ticket that is marijuana will never steer you wrong. Eating is the same way. If you take something and make it out to be bigger than you are, you have set yourself up for failure. Anyone who succeeds in life will tell you that you cannot have a cannot attitude(yeah yeah shutup). Don't make a mountain out of a molehill. The only thing that eats at these dimwitted cattle (apart from the late night thoughts about gastric bypass), is that they cannot overcome their bad habit, so they combat their frustrations and heartache with...duh, FOOD. With every morsel of lip smackingly delectable treats that this menace to the food pyramid sends into his/her parody-like stomach, the chance for turnaround diminishes. The mountain grows higher, the brain still thinking about licking excess frosting off the bowl. Exercising becomes difficult. Jeans get tighter. Looks from the opposite gender turn from intrigue to disgust. You spend your entire life chasing burgers and when its too late you realize that you're never going to be a Big Mac(k). Just a Big Mceater.
In the end, when the only thing that is saving you is hospital tubes and re-runs of Jerry Springer, you have nothing left to understand except that food was your devil and your god. Food was your love and your hate. By making food out to be a larger-than-life concept, the only thing you could do was eat to keep up. As big as food was to the fat person, the fat person must defeat all the food first (at least thats what I think goes on in the hamster wheels of the obese). You'll just get bigger and bigger in a race against food to prove that you are number one...and soon enough, food will outlast you and you'll just be an overweight loser with loads of untapped potential. Some people just cannot see things for what they are. If you truly believe in yourself and believe that you are in control and larger than life, then everything else comes easy. Personality and confidence are a motherfucker, and I can't find that anywhere these days.
See. This is why I hate fat people. And not fat people alone. The fact that only about 3% of the world are probably doing what they would truly love to do is a scary thought and, in my eyes, the reason why we are as fucked up as we are. Our imperfections create our defense mechanisms. Our defense mechanisms will fire at anyone who hints at cracking our deep secrets and our worries. All this does is chain react hatred and breed more ignorance.
I used to weigh over 300 pounds two years ago. Food was my nigga. Chicken wings and marshmallow peeps and hot chocolate ohhh joy! But then I realized that I was ugly as hell and asking my mom to help wash my folds wasn't very mature of me. I used to be mean to everyone...and now that my weight is gone, my entire demeanor has changed for the better. Whatever you have dubbed in your head as "impossible"...its all in your head.
I think I've decided what to do with this blog. Maybe every couple days I'll find a type of person I want to talk about, dog them out, and then relate their problems to my own life. Humor is the only way I know how to convey my thoughts...as harsh as I may be, some of my looney tunes thoughts make a grain of sand's worth of sense.
By the way, my mom never washed my folds. That's just gross.
AND NO...do not think because you are overweight, gay, illegal immigrant, retarded, handicapped, etc that you are a loser. If you only take half of what I say, you're getting the wrong half. My humor is a savior to the wise but an ignorant funny button to the fucking stupid. Please don't be the latter. I hate stupid people.
***IM AN IDIOT***
Hottie is spelled correctly, if that bullshit can even be considered a word on a fat jowled mutant's ass. So I guess I'm not an idiot. I just beat fat people and won one over on the American language. May Shiva bless your days, my hateful little Americans.<--deep
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Good shit!
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