I hear people all the time saying obesity is a disease. They talk like it’s something people get infected with, and there’s nothing they can do about it. Like cancer. Oh no, you got the fat? So sorry to hear that. Did the doctor say how long you have? I’ve also heard people say it’s genetic and there’s nothing they can do about it. My dad was fat so I have to accept that I’m fat too, and there’s not much point in trying to change it. What?
I’ve known people who go through phases where they gain a bunch of weight, then get busy, bust their ass, and lose it. Is that genetic too? See I think our problem here in America is the fact that we want to be lazy. Whether or not we’re lazy seems to be irrelevant. We want to be lazy. We don’t want to do anything about it. We’d rather sit around eating twinkies, getting fatter and bitching about how we’re fat. I say be fat and happy, or lose weight. No excuses for being fat and pissed off about it.
I just don’t believe genetics makes you fat. I think lifestyle, diet and exercise habits make you what you are. Sure, your grandfather’s grandfather, your gran- -I’m not going to go through the list, but all the way down to your father, may have been fat. Well maybe you watched how they lived and tried too hard to be like them.
Just like Haycomet’s column the other day, apparently you can receive small mannerisms from your parents through DNA on how you react to things, how you think about things – maybe even how you react to having a plate of greasy bacon put in front of you. Wait. Son of bitch, that sounds good! So I don’t think it’s genetics that make you fat, but rather, genetics that make you want to be fat.
I’ve known plenty of fat people who enjoyed being fat, and had no qualms about it. And hell, for the record, they actually didn’t really offend anyone with their hambeastliness. It’s really all about how you act being that way. If you waddle around mouth-breathing and acting like the world should feel sorry for you, and lend you a helping hand just because you are fat, then I don’t feel sorry for you. If that describes you, then you deserve every bit of criticism people throw at you.
If you’re a big hambeast who loves life, laughs and makes everyone else laugh, and occasionally even jokes about your own weight – I don’t think most people have a problem with you. Everyone loved John Candy. Look at Chris Farley, too. Only problem is you probably won’t live that long. A doctor once told a buddy of mine who was overweight, “I don’t know any 80-year-olds your weight.”
So if you’re fat, be fat. And if you’re happy, be happy. Be fat and happy. But don’t think the world owes you anything because you’re fat. Like the woman who weighed close to a ton – yes, literally she weighed almost two thousand pounds – who got pissed at the apartment complex she lived in because the floor caved in. It was their fault. And she made the city pay to have her doors redone so she could fit out them. And have her floors reenforced so she could live there. Not that she was ever going to go out the doors, you see. But it was the city’s responsibility to take care of these costs, since she let herself go to the point of no return. That, my friends, is a butter troll. And I liken that to people who get on welfare and think we should all pay for them since they’re too lazy to get a job.
So by this little rant here, I’m sure you can tell how I feel about Obama’s health care bill, which entitles every illegal alien to better health care than my own legal children get. Yay America! Another victory. Thanks, Obama! Thanks Illegal Aliens! Thanks Fatties! Thanks Socialist Regime in the White House! Thanks Chili’s Jalapeno Poppers (with jalapeno ranch on the side, have you tried that shit?, oh my dear lord)!
So in closing, well, I really have nothing. I didn’t really have anything to start with today, which is why I wrote about fat people. Meh. I had this joke in my head, thought it would make a good title for a column, then decided if I was going to title a column such, I’d actually have to write that column. So this is what you got today, folks. If you don’t like it, go eat a plateful of bacon.
(Son of a bitch, that sounds real good. I think I’ll go do that myself!)