This all ties in with a concept I hold dear to my cholesterol-encrusted heart, and that concept is: Leave me the f
uck alone and let me live however the f
uck I want.
If I want to be fat, I'm gonna be fat. Hell, I'm 6'3'', I have wide shoulders, and a big frame. I think it fits me. The last thing I need is some living barbie doll with cheekbones that could open a can of beets giving me health advice. But if that's the way she wants to live, who am I to say no?
That's not to say that you shouldn't try to stay active. I may be a whopping 260-something pounds, but I make sure I get outside and either walk or ride my bike at least 3 days out of the week, maybe 4. As long as I'm keeping active, I'm fine.
But yeah, live and let live. People don't practice that enough. You don't tell me that I'm fat and need to lose weight, and I don't remind you of how skinny-as-all-hell you are and how a few extra burgers wouldn't kill ya.
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You also have the right to stop whining and shut your crumb-encrusted mouth, fattycakes.
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Hey.
Shut up.