Thinking of Fat Women

As I sit slumped back in my cheap plastic chair that stinks from its owners, at times, questionable hygiene full from the workmanlike holiday feast, I thought to myself, “I need to pull it together.”

Between deep breaths that resemble sighs and the deliberate contracting and contrasting that is the clinching of my ass as I dictate which silent farts I want to let out and which to keep in, like the membranes of microcosms, I feel a bigger part the disaster that is the American populace.

Beaten and torn down by food and drink, tired and annoyed, I think back to something that happened this very morning, something that has convinced me that, now, not only is life worth living now, but it never was.

This morning as I was getting ready for work, I stumble out of bed after a listless sleep in a warped and sweat heavy bed that has the squeaks. Now, let me clarify, not those harmonious and pure little noises caused by happy lovers, but the din of a picked cotton mattress beaten into submission to perform its owners hard work, like a pillow top slave.

I stumble out of this bed and, though I stumbled about like a lame man with clubbed feet, I was quick to forego the shower. I hurriedly strap on some clothes I deemed suitable for work and try and manipulate slept in hair. For those of you who have not had the unique pleasure of fixing slept in hair, I would equate it pissing down your pant leg, trying to clean it in a public bathroom, and then walking back to your groups table and pretend you were just a bit to gamey in washing your hands or kneecap. Nobody buys it when you come to work with half dried and half clumped by product hair, like a duck in an oil spill.

I take a load off by sitting in a chair that my roomate consistently made love with until the gyrations of his hips tore a hole in the seat and left angelic white baby Jew stains on the front, thus making it fit to be donated to me, apparently.

In my disgust, I go to my favorites and see videoxx.nx. I’m prompted by my hateful mind to click on the link and give a passing glance to those thumbnails.

In an effort to get to the point, I will spare the sordid and vulgar details of just what exactly was going through my mind, but I admit now before my friends and their god: I ended the morning with a rapid clean up as I was, now, running late as I simultaneously tried to close out: my BBW streaming video and the impure thoughts of the fattest girl I've known(seriously 275 lbs), that completed my self-loathing.