Fat Food

You disgust me. Pale fat bulging at your thighs, arms so weak and white and flabby. Genetics? Don’t make me fucking laugh. Eating fast food, French fries by the handful, huge bites of greasy hamburgers filling your mouth as a little kid stares at you in revulsion. You fat pig, haven’t you got any self-control? Your clothes don’t fit any more, your stomach bulges out over your jeans. God, it’s wrong, it’s fucking filthy.

Stand in front of a mirror and rotate. Christ, you’ve got more flab on you than a killer whale. Bring a razor out and cut and cut and cut and try to bleed the fat away.

But it never seems to work.