12 June, 2014

Dear Fat, Please F**K Off!!!


Dear Fat,

I write this because we've had an unhealthy relationship for over ten years. For over ten years I have allowed you to grow and sometimes decrease. Mostly, you have grown and we both know that's not good for the both of us. Even the doctor recently said you need to go away.  That's serious fat, that's pretty serious. In six months he wants to see that you have left a part of me, never to return. I'd like to see a whole lot of you f**K off if I'm honest.

Dear Fat,

You are the reason I feel insecure in skinny jeans, often wonder if people are staring at me and make me feel like a complete blob when I enter a changing room with 360 degree mirrors. I f**king hate 360 degree mirrors. For once, I'd like to grab an item of clothing, know that it will fit and it would even be nice if I had to ask the sales assistant for a smaller size. That would be f**king amazing fat, if less of you existed and I got to buy smaller jeans.

Dear Fat,

The funny thing is, I do know how to get rid of you. I know that you hate healthy food and regular trips to the gym but sometimes if I'm having a bad day, work has been shitty and I literally can't be arsed cooking a nutritious meal I'll turn to you. You're always there. At the end of a phone call to a reputable fat delivering service, you are there, within reach. Ya big tease!

Dear Fat,

People say you're dangerous. If I hang out with you much longer I could really damage my health. Arteries could get clogged and disease could creep in. Fat, if we don't break up soon, it could be too late for the both of us. Not on, not sound, not good.

Dear Fat,

If we're honest, we don't get along anyways. I might consider staying in a relationship with you if you lived on my boob-a-roonies, but you don't. You seem happiest surrounding my ass and thighs. Clinging to each one like a protective child. When they wobble, it's you laughing at me. Mocking me. You're telling me that you live in this area of my body and that you want to stay. Well fat, you can f**k right off 'cas I ain't no two bedroom apartment. 

Dear Fat,

In 6 months time there will be considerably less of you. I've decided. It will start slowly, so much so that you probably won't even notice at first. A pound here, a pound there. Soon it will be half a stone, one stone, maybe even two. Yes fat, that much of you needs to find a new f**king home. You might evaporate into sweat or become muscle. Muscle would be good for the two of us, go on fat, become muscle. I promise you'll like it.

Dear Fat,

We're breaking up. I'm serious, I'm so f**king serious I bought cute gym gear and a matching water bottle. Watch out, I am coming to get you. Every.single.ounce of you. I've cursed alot to show you how god damn bloody f**king serious I am. 

Adios!

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