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When it comes to being thin, the only thing one should worry about is APPEARANCE. The stupid scale and its faulty numbers do nothing but discourage, since the apparent number of pounds that everyone should be losing varies from person to person. (Many fatties are too stupid to realize this which is why they resort to diet hopping and excuses)
For example, Dumb-Fat-Petite-Bitch and her friend Stupid-Fat-Ogre decide to go on a diet/exercise kick together in hopes of slimming down. Hooray for them. They eat their fruits and granola, prowl around the gym (although their slow lazy asses probably only go on the elliptical for a total of ten minutes followed by excessive wheezing and sweating) and continue to eat more healthy foods and only choke up by eating at Hardee’s once. After of week of these shenannigans, they step on the scale.
S.F.O. realizes she only lost two measly pounds so far, so she is easily discouraged, gives up and stuffs her face with a double order of chinese take-out. Of course she is too stupid to realize that this was completely reasonable, since she was expecting maybe I don’t know a ridiculous goal of 7 pounds like the nasty Slimfast commercials promise?
DFPB steps on the scale and to her horror finds she’s gained one pound. This is probably because her blubbery frame gained a smidgen of muscle from working out harder than it has in the past 15 years with those 10 minute elliptical adventures along with the daily push-up and sit-up. Does she realize this? Probably not, which is why her next move is sitting in her bed crying watching the a fashion for plus sizes show while eating out of the gallon ice cream bucket with the ice cream scoop. Not once did this round dumbass realize that her thighs jiggle a little less than they used too, her double chin receded slightly, and that her body was taking kindly to her new diet of healthy eating.
So when you tubbers are out on a weight loss kick, please stay away from that stupid scale and pay attention to how your outside (and perhaps inside) is changing rather than relying on that god forsaken good for nothing mother fucking scale.
Over the past few fashion seasons, the flowing top has swooped onto the scene, claiming it hides bellies. (However nothing has been done to hide flabby arms yet.) This is not true, for the flowing top was originally designed for those fat ass pregnant women in attempt to hide their obvious birth control blunder. It does not successfully hide the tum-tum, it only makes you look like you are trying to hide a baby, no matter what size you may be.
Unfortunately, with our growing tummy epidemic, stores seemed to be stalked to the brim with these stupid tops and tight fitting ones for us skinny folk are becoming more and more scarce. When one does find those lovely bone-thin-form-fitting tops, all the smalls and mediums and large(s) are gone, (for some reason they only feel like being stocked with 2 or 3 of each…) and we are left with an abundance of XL, 2XL etc. Fatties shouldn’t even be allowed to wear those damn things so why bother making them in their size? Tisk Tisk Mall of America. Tisk fucking tisk.
Thin is out, apparently, but the fight continues! We will fight to the bone!
Molly May
Where does one first begin to go wrong when it comes to being a slim little bitch? The freshman 15 of course! What you hear about the freshman 15 in news articles and on television blames it on ‘lack of exercise’ or ‘over eating’ and ‘change in routine’. Sure those might pose to be factors for the poor fat fuck with a low metabolism, but there is a secret to these creepy little pounds. Its called BEING A DIRTY BINGE DRINKING WHORE.
Rewind to my freshman year of college. Since the colleges close to my home already had an abundance of smart white girls, I was forced to go 40 minutes north to one of those weird colleges that is the center of some weird town where all they seem to have is bars, bowling alleys, and an abundance of TGI Friday’s. Most of the girls and boys coming to the college already knew each other from their spider web of suburb networking, and also blew me away by the fact that they were actually 18. They all acted as if they were freshman in high school, not college. How… amusing. After months of searching I only managed to find 6 other city kids. It sucked donkey cock, to say the least.
My dorm floor consisted of 25 other girls. On the first day, we were able to cram all of us in the elevator. (except for the token fat girl, she had to take the stairs) They were all slim and pretty, and the same height of 5′4… But of course, they were from the burbs, so they were supposed to look exactly the same.
That first semester in the dorms sucked. Apparently I was on one of the famous slut floors, and at all hours of the day I would have gross drunken boys banging down my door wanting me to come out and play their reindeer games of beer pong and ’see how many shots we can take until we pass out in our own vomit in the stairwell’. I would always politely decline, partly because I’m a stoner, not a drunk, and the other reason would be because I couldn’t see the beauty of waking up the next morning on the boulevard with no idea of where my pants went.
The other girls on my floor adored these drinking follies, and often followed them with puking all over the community showers or casual sex with the door open. The first semester was coming to an end, and since I was rarely seem by the other girls unless I was brushing my teeth or trying to avoid their small talk by darting to class, I hadn’t really had time to judge their physique, (as us shallow skinny bitches do with everyone).
The days before break, I was moving out of that dump, mostly because its very hard to get sound sleep on a floor full of drunks. While I was pushing my moving cart to and fro, the little drunk princesses would slither out of there rooms to see what was going on. The dear little drunk princesses now resembled kegs with legs and blonde highlights. When had the little slim ones become so… round?! I reflected on how my group of friends had often stampeded to cafeteria when we had the munchies and nearly ate the chef at one point, but we hadn’t gained a pound. I did a wee bit of research, and discovered that 100 ml of vodka had over 200 calories!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT IS A LOT OF CALORIES!! And of course, after steady nights of drunken madness, you build up a tolerance, having to drink more and more each time. Pretty soon, your lovely once thin body starts to resemble that of the Pillsbury Dough Boy, and your lovely new tummy prevents you from seeing your fat little toes. eeeep!
So college folk, the next time you feel like going on a ten day drinking binge, don’t whine about your freshman 40 afterwards, because the only thing to blame is you and your diet of liquid calories.
420 Forever,
~Molly May
Time and time again, I’ve been asked this question by numerous fat chicks. I usually just respond with “Look at me, then look in a mirror.” That particular reply seems to get the point across, but since I choose not to post pictures of myself here, I must give you the few pro’s of being thin.
I’ve heard one too many times that its one’s personality that counts. But seriously, how many of you have a truly unique and sparkling personality anyway? Yeah, that’s what i thought. Not very many. Let’s pretend that you are trying to get noticed by a boy/girl whoever. Unless your AWESOME personality is radiating across the room like a tropical sunbeam, its not very likely their going to approach you if you have more chins than the good lord intended. (unless of course, they have a FAT fetish. Do you really want to attract people based on a fetish for your extra poundage?) The people who stand out in a crowd are the thin ones with amazing posture. The ones who draw envy from all corners of the room because they are toned and stand tall. You can see how they move, not sit and guess how their legs can possibly hold up a blimp physique.
Another fabulous perk about being thin is clothes shopping. Its a wonderful feeling to know that I don’t have to set foot inside a ‘plus-sized’ store. (plus sized is just a gentle term for OVERWEIGHT!) Now I admit I have my troubles finding clothes because I am so gosh darn tall, but shit, I know most of you would trade horizontal inches for vertical ones any day. (On a side note, did you know that plus sized venues actually have plus sized bracelets?! Who the fuck has let themselves go to the point they need to go up a fucking BRACELET size?)
The last perk I will leave you with today is ‘crowd weaving’. We have all found ourselves in extremely crowded situations, and when I want to get from one end of the crowd to another, I simply turn to the side and cut through like a human razor blade. This skill is ideal for when people are standing around and eating or have drinks in their hands, because too many a time I’ve had to deal with some fat ass running me over like a steam roller and spilling my drink/food and their drink/food all over creation, all because they insisted on wagging their chub around like an excited yippy lap dog.
more thinspiration to come,
~Molly May
What could this blog possibly be about?
Well, if you haven’t already observed the title or taken a gander at my username, I absolutely DESPISE fat of all kinds. Fat girls, fat men, fatties, fat asses, blubber on my steak, anything with a BMI over 24 I cannot stand. BIG IS NOT BEAUTIFUL. It is terribly disgusting and not to mention quite unhealthy.
Now I suppose you are either sitting on your ass cheering me on or sneering at your computer screen, but keep in mind, this is all just a bunch of words strewn together in hopes to strengthen the war on FAT, or perhaps inspire some overweight web surfer to get off their ass and go play outside.
Over the years and across many cultures we as a society have learned to embrace our fellow tubbers. Whether it be men worshipping the ladies who were supposedly ‘blessed’ with voluptuous fat asses or stemming all the way back to the olden days when fat was a symbol of wealth.
My dream is that one day, everyone can be a healthy weight and I may go into a resturant and not lose my appetite when I see the hoards of fat, greasy fucks who ate the last beef hamburger leaving me to settle with sub-par chicken.
More to come,
Molly May ~
