Ham before morning coffee Hello my darling shitizens,  I hope the actual human sized ones of you reading this are having a lovely weekend (fatty lurkers, as you may have guessed, I hope waddle into a searing fire). I stayed over in a friend's last night following a long and much needed catch up. Awaking on their couch today I decided it'd be nice to go and get the makings (fixings) for a nice healthy breakfast and surprise them with coffee and breakfast (we're very good friends, it's not uncommon for either of us to root through the others' kitchen to prep or make stuff).  Now, my friend and her partner rent a lovely cottage in an unfortunately not so lovely area. There's loads of scumbags (think of the British Chav, except with an accent that sounds part weasel), junkies, nasty ass women who scream at and threaten to slap their young kids, alcoholic old men stumbling about and generally being an awkward and upsetting inconvenience. Anyway, in these kind of rough low income areas, food is generally a subjective concept, involving many varieties of spiced reprocessed chicken parts, vast selections of frozen pizza, but little to no choice of fresh vegetables or fruit.  Basically, people here are unhealthy. And fat. So fat. After heading up to Spar and finally managing to find mushrooms and tomatoes, I went to join the queue. It was surprisingly longer than I would have expected,  I couldn't see the actual counter because a product aisle and column were blocking my view but I had my own thoughts to distract me so I didn't mind the wait. After a few transactions, the queue shortened enough to allow me move around the corner. That's when I saw It. With swaths and swaths of a granny grey butterfly print fabric feebly attempting to cover Its gargantuan portions, this gorilla of gluttony was everything wrong with the HAES movement. Its skin was a mottled ashen hue similar to Steve Bannon's, but you could see splotches of angry red on Its swollen, overfilled sausage casing like legs. You could also see It hadn't successfully shaved said sausage limbs. Its hips and waist were easily the girth of three of me, the torso a poorly baked lopsided muffin top, with two inflatable raft ring tires of flab spilling below the initial lard overflow. But this horror was compounded by Its stature. This wanton whale was barely hitting 5 2". It was wider than It was tall. Like a squishy slightly melted looking egg shaped ball of Play-doh (putty) on its side.  This beast of beetus held a basket filled to the brim with saturated fats, choices of special offer chocolate, 2 loaves of white bread, regular and chocolate milk and who knows what else. The basket handle was biting into Its folds of arm flab. The fat all but enveloped the handle, reminiscent to how  female Angler fish fuse the tiny male Angler fish('s balls) to her.   Eventually it was Its turn and It trundled up to the (rather good looking) cashier. The amount of junk the cashier scanned was incredible. No wonder this beast was such a fat fuck! After spending almost €40 on junk, and rudely snatching Its change from the cashier, Hamathron rotated on Its axis, splay-legged, arms and shopping propped up by Its saddlebag waist, to face the door. As it passed diagonally in front of me (clearly struggling with the effort of walking already), I was shocked to see this beast was younger than me. It's always hard to tell with hams because excess weight is so aging, but if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say this thing was probably 20-24. Its choice of circus tent was youthful and Its piggy eyes were framed by fat, not crow's feet.  At this stage I thought I'd be jaded by the levels and species of fats that waddle (sit) on this planet, but sometimes I'm still astounded by the levels of self destruction and mutilation some of them achieve. It didn't look human. It looked like a large lump of wax. I still don't have an appetite.