Ever think of the limitations of the fatties, who reee how happy they are? I was thinking the other day of all the things I've done without a thought: I raked up and bagged all the leaves on my large property, painted my whole house, changed a burned-out bulb on my ceiling, got in my car, and my seatbelt fit, tiled my backsplash, walked all the way into town and carried my purchases home, went cycling for a couple of hours, walked my dog for miles in the woods, bought human-sized clothes off the rack, washed my car and vacuumed it inside, was able to board a commuter train and fit in the seat, moved all my bedroom furniture around so I could vacuum under it, hop in the tub every night without screaming and crying and being hosed down on the deck, didn't feel the need to post pictures of myself in my underwear and didn't say "Fuck you" to anyone. I'm way over 20 years old, yet could do all this stuff - just the most simple things -  which they cannot. How can they say they love themselves the way they are and that fat is fine? I guess they're starting to believe their own lies.