Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Nature of the Fat Bitch

Fatasses have never failed to surprise me. On a daily basis, I am constantly reassessing my beliefs and perceptions regarding fat culture and the fat world because, as one fatass has consistently proven to me, the nature of the fat bitch cannot be controlled or contained—he transcends natural law. Who is that fatass you ask? Me.

There is no doubt about it that nature works in mysterious ways, however there are certain rules, biological processes and natural phenomena that govern human behavior and thought. To a certain extent there is logic and order. However, when a fatass consumes so much to the point of puking, only to hit up Arby’s for a steak sandwich minutes later… where is the logic in that? When a giant whale of a bitch falls over and can’t get up without the help of a random bystander yet continues to order the Double Cheeseburger Meal every day for lunch… where is the logic in that? For fatties, there is no order; we don’t abide by any rules. We do what we want. We are above the law.

Particular to college students—stress is a condition that plagues millions and drives them to seek peace in the comforts food brings. During this past finals week I ate an inordinate amount of food and exhibited gluttony beyond description. The longest grocery list ever written would pale in comparison to the list of goods that I forced down my throat as an alternative to studying. I brought a whole new meaning to the phrase “cramming before finals.”

Now if there’s one thing I learned from watching Kirstie Alley’s Fat Actress, it is that nothing—and I mean NOTHING—can get in the way of a fatass that has abandoned their dignity. So if you’re smart, when you see a sad fatty crying on a park bench alone with a cheesecake, you’ll know not to get involved. Nothing comes between a fat predator and its prey.

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

R.I.P. Yum Yum Donuts

It’s a sad day in America. The local donut shop closed today after 24 years of business since opening in 1985. What started out as Winchell’s and evolved into Yum Yum Donuts was much more than a friendly locale at which one could get their fix of cheap coffee, a bag of donut holes and a three-week-old maple bar—it was a sanctuary.

Yum Yum boasted like-bellied fatasses spanning countless demographics; including Vietnam War vets, crack addicts, prison escapees, plastic-bag-collecting bald women, and me! My friend Alex and I would spend HOURS on end conversing with the scum that loitered on the front curb about topics such as current events, politics, the best alcoholic drinks, and our most memorable sexcapades. It was these types of conversations that truly enriched my formative years and solidified my understanding of my innate superiority.

R.I.P. Yum Yum Donuts.

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.