Four Things That Really Suck About Being Fat

I know what you're saying. This should be the shortest blog post ever.

I'll take things that suck about being fat for $1,000.  What is "everything", Alek.
I didn't even ask the question yet. But that is correct, yes.

There is literally nothing that doesn't suck about being fat. With the possible exception of surviving an ice age or an accidental fall into the Bering Sea a little better than the average person. Or maybe being able to wrestle a Snicker's bar from a hungry bear if necessary. Those things notwithstanding, the number of things that suck about being fat equals precisely everything minus three.
What's that you said? Quit eating? Then go exercise? Problem solved?

Oh yeah? I hadn't thought of that. Eff you. Also, pie is delicious. Also, pie wanted me to tell you "eff you" as well.

Fig. 1

Anthropomorphic Pie: "Go eff yourself".

But listing "everything" instead of writing an actual post is the most terrible thing anyone could ever do, ever. Besides watching The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Watching Brad Pitt as a creepy old baby is probably the most terrible thing anyone could ever do, ever. Anyway, to avoid being responsible for the second most terrible thing anyone could ever do, ever, here are the four worst things about being fat.

1. Skinny Jeans

I'm not talking about skinny jeans that come in a size 0.  I'm not even talking about skinny jeans that come in a size 8. I'm talking about the jeans that come in a size 24 and are on a table surrounded by other clothes that could double as either sails or tents. Are you being condescending, clothes manufacturers? Are you trying to be ironic? Are there air quotes around the word "skinny" in your skinny jeans and you're laughing hysterically behind the earring turney thing at me as I pick them up and stare at them angrily and skeptically? I'm not an idiot! I'm not going to walk into Abercrombie Kids or  wherever the hell it is skinny people shop and march into the dressing room with an armful of skinny jeans because Apple Bottom clearly doesn't understand what words mean!  Also I have never walked into an Abercrombie because I do not want to be asked politely to leave. I am very well aware that when I put on these "skinny" jeans, I will look like a snake that is trying to digest a beach ball.

Fig. 2

"What's that, Torrid? I wear a size four in these? I'll take six pairs, please."

So eff you, "skinny" jeans. Go back to WetSeal where you belong. (side note: WetSeal is still open? Really, 1997?)

2. Wicker

First off, if you own wicker furniture, you're basically saying, "eff you, fat friends. Your kind isn't welcome here. You will either sit on my elf furniture or you will sit on the ground. Because we both know you're not going to stand."

Look. Wicker furniture will likely disintegrate as soon as we sit in it. Who is this for? Mice? Kate Moss? An Olson twin? Why do you even have this?!

Let's face it. I'm not going to try to wedge myself into a tiny wicker chair. For more than one reason. The first reason is that it will likely still be stuck to my ass when I attempt to stand up. If I were to hypothetically sit in wicker furniture, I would have to test the chair-welded-to-ass situation by sort of gradually standing up, but wicker furniture is always like three effing millimeters off the ground; there's no such thing as a gradual attempt to stand up because, in the interest of full disclosure, fat people don't use their hamstrings. So, because you're not able to gradually stand, you've got to try to leverage your weight and spring up in a reverse gravity situation.

And now a chair is stuck to your ass.

So you either A) fall down immediately, or B) stand up and try to subtly remove the chair from your ass. (Spoiler alert: there is no subtle way to remove a chair from your ass) And it's really hard to look cool with a tiny wicker chair attached to your Weeble ass.

Fig. 3

Exhibit A.

Another reason fat people hate wicker is because, if for some reason we do sit on it, when we get up (and have removed the chair from our asses) the backs of our legs look like honey baked hams.

Fig. 4

Mmm. Delicious.

3. Spanx

Spanx, if you're not familiar, are like a gigantic Ace bandage that is supposed to constrict blood flow to all of your extremities so that you can't breathe or move while simultaneously making you look about 1/8 of an inch thinner. There are different styles, but they are generally worn from your neck to your ankles. I bought my first pair of Spanx when I passed by a mirror at Macy's and thought someone was behind me but it turned out to be my own ass. Also, Spanx are terrible. Have you ever tried to pry on a pair of Spanx? I'm assuming that the large majority of male readers have not. Here's what it's like. Go find jeans for a toddler. Now get them wet. Now run around and get sweaty. Now try to pull them over your calves. Did you get that far without falling down and hitting your head on a nearby dresser? Congratulations. You beat me.

Fig. 5

Somebody call an ambulance. And my lawyer.

Look, Spanx. You're supposed to make my life easier by giving everyone a false impression of exactly how big I am. But when I come out from changing winded, exhausted and sweaty, IT'S REALLY OBVIOUS HOW BIG I AM, SPANX. Also, I don't want to have to take a nap when I'm finished getting ready because I'm injured and exhausted. Also, fun fact, Spanx make you feel like a human sausage.

4. Crossfit

Let me open this by saying that I know several very wonderful, funny, bright people whom I love deeply that do Crossfit, and despite my deep love and devotion to you, fuck off.

Quit jumping off of boxes! What does the phrase "snatch grab" mean?!  "Crossfitting" and "Crossfitters" are NOT REAL WORDS, CROSSFIT!!!

Also, there is no possible way a fat person can do any of this. How many pull ups do  you want me to do? If the answer isn't zero, we're both out of luck. I'm not supposed to eat anything dairy? Then what am I supposed to order when I eat Mexican food? If you say a salad, I'll kill you where you stand. Also, and I am aware that this is about to make me sound jealous, especially considering that I'm starting to get concerned that if I gain any more weight I'll collapse in on myself like a neutron star, but some of you are making yourselves too skinny and it's making me look larger by comparison.

Anyway. If you do Crossfit, fuck off. Unless I love you. In that case,fuck off please. And when you come back, bring me a pie. 

Fig. 6

I've been waiting for you!