My mother, the shitlady + 3 XXXL tales about fatties My mother got laid off her job of 20+ years a couple months ago because of downsizing. It's clearly the piggies' fault because of reasons, but I digress. I was having breakfast with her and she was telling me about her new job. I literally choked on my coffee and laughed so hard, that my eyes teared up, while she was talking about her new coworker. "She's about 5 feet tall, and 5 feet wide. I was guiding her to the back room where we store our personal stuff. I look around and she's gone. Around the corner I hear huffing and puffing and see her trudging along like a pig in mud. I ask her if she's okay and she says 'I didn't realize an office job required so much walking.' The back room is about 20 feet from our desks. The boss doesn't think the new girl is going to last long, and she's pretty hefty herself too!" I never knew my mom to be a shitlady, but this restored my hope that fat shaming is starting to become popular again. This pleasant surprise set the tone for the rest of my day and I knew it was going to be good. Fast forward to later in the morning when I stop by the library to answer some emails. I sit down in a far corner to enjoy this lovely morning. Not a single soul in the building except for me. Not soon after,  3 not-so-little pigs enter. I avoid eye contact in the hopes that they will stay the fuck away from me. Nope, cunts sit RIGHT FUCKING NEXT TO ME! There are literally dozens of other computers available on this floor and a total of hundreds across all the floors of this giant ass library! Whatever, positive vibes and all. I try to ignore them but they're squealing and reeeing their plaque-ridden hearts out. I put in some headphones and try to relax to the sweet sounds of Jimi Hendrix. Not working because I can still fucking hear them shouting at each other. I imagine fats must do this to hear one another because sound is blocked by their neck fat accumulating and taking over. The song fades and I can clearly hear them talking about how attractive I am (as if, dream on you disgusting metabolic calamities) and how "body positive" and beautiful their friend on Facebook is. I glance over and see them browsing a small planet's bikini pictures on Facebook. I've had enough. I finish what I'm doing and report the pigs to the smallfat librarian for looking at porn.  I'm still feeling pretty good at this point. I'm in class and something is wrong with the world today. Normally the classroom smells like an indescribable concoction of nondescript body odor. This isn't surprising because there's 40 people crammed into a small room in the summer with iffy air circulation. Today though, the characteristic funk wasn't here! I was ecstatic and breathing the air for once. I could even smell a (human) girl's perfume and it was pleasant. All the sunshine and rainbows turned into betus and condishions when in walked the biggest ham planet in our class. Guiding the way for the beast was that characteristic odor and following it were its nasty dreadlocks. I looked over and saw the nasty creature carrying not one, not two, but three huge drink cups with it. At first I thought maybe the beast was being generous and brought drinks for its slightly less fat friends. Nope, I should know better. Blob Marley plopped its fat ass down and started sipping from all three cups. One from Mcbetus, one from starbetus, and one from inta juice-betus. All the largest possible size, I imagine. In the town I live there is only one inta juice and its close to a Starbucks. The problem is that the nearest McDonalds to this location is on the other side of town. Further more, inta juice opens half an hour after the class starts. So this dehumanized blob was late to class because it needed 3x its sugar fix in the morning, traveled across town to achieve it, and was late because it absolutely needed to have inta juice crap filled with sugar because "it's healthy." Fat fuck doesn't understand self control and will likely fail the class and has already failed life in general. Thanks for dropping the exam average and making my balls retreat into my body on a daily basis.  Later I was in a lab playing with lasers and shit. I had picked my lab group carefully to avoid all forms of fat and I love it! We are the dream team with 4 shitlord and 1 shitlady amongst a sea of lard.  We're usually the first ones done because we plow through the work like a piggy would eat through the aforementioned sea of lard. Across from us is this group of 5 fat girls. 2 morbidly obese, 2 regular obese, and 1 small fat (how the fuck did we get to a point where we have advanced degrees of fatness?). The small fat doesn't look very big because she is really short but most of her fat is stored around her belly. If she was taller she would clearly look like shes smuggling a chocolate cake or three under her shirt. All the fats swarm around the small fat and bask in her "knowledge" about nutrition and healthy eating. The small fat posts gym updates seemingly every fucking day about her weight lifting progress (read as ability to lift pounds of sugar into her mouth). Funny thing is that there's a picture a year ago of her squat lifting 40 pounds and last week a picture of her lifting only 30 pounds (progress?). Anyways, shes feeding shitty advice as usual to her friends (eat all the time or you'll be in starvation mode, 12 treats a day is fine as long as you walk 12 feet, you're not fat it's just water weight). She ends her self righteous rant by saying "and most importantly you need to exercise hard like I do. Yesterday I ran 3 miles in 28 minutes!" I dropped my pencil and my jaw fell to the floor. Who the fuck thinks this is an accomplishment? If you ran 3 miles at this pace in the military the DS would shove their boot so far up your ass they'd owe your colon a nickel for a shoe shining! I normally mind my business so I can get my work done and leave, avoiding fat logic like land mines. Today was (hopefully) the last I time I will ever have the chance to shitlord these Tess Hollandaise sauce fanatics, so I took it. I laughed out loud at her time for a mile and asked how long shes been running. She gave an offended gasp and replied over a year. I pounded my fist on the table and laughed harder remarking, "and that's the best you can do?" I proceeded to lay down the truth about sugar, CICO, and exercise to the piglet's friends. The bigger ones were clearly offended that I dare question the wisdom of Lord Betus' small fat prophet. Little fat had enough and pulled up her shirt to show off her "abs." You know how people have their bottom ribs? Yeah, apparently those are abs now. I laughed and pulled up my shirt to show off my abs (which I've been working all summer for, and they are beautiful). Her response? "Of course you have abs, all guys have abs. I would think you were a girl if you didn't. Oink oink!" This especially pissed me off because her pig fucker boyfriend always brags about his "abs" and uses every excuse to take his shirt off to "show" them off, despite any trace of abdominal muscles being covered by more fat than a 90/10 package of ground beef. No more fucking around, I pulled out the big guns: BMI. Hopefully we all agree here on fatpeoplehate that BMI is pretty damn accurate except for ridiculously buff body builders. I'm no where near that buff, but in good enough shape that fats try to make me feel shameful for taking care of myself. I tell chief small fat "my BMI is 19, what's yours?" Her face turned red and she brought out every excuse in the book about BMI being inaccurate for everyone ever (despite being a nutrition/sport exercise science major, smh). I motion towards a scale in the lab and told her "fine, let's see what gravity thinks about your exercise regimen." I'm nearly 2 feet taller than her so I'm expecting to be close or slightly heavier than her. We weigh and I go first. She goes and I watch paint dry while the scale is still spinning. She stares at the number in disbelief and steps off to weigh again. Same number. She demands I weigh myself again becase the scale isnt accurate. I step on again, this time I'm 0.2 pounds lighter than before ( I must have laughed off the calories after seeing her weight). She weighs 40 pound more than I do! Her defense? "You're just super in shape so that's not a fair comparison." I invite my group members over to play her game. Every guy in the group, except one, weighs less than her despite being my height or taller. The one that weighed more than here is also nearly 7 feet tall. She reeees that it doesn't count because women store more fat than men. Our resident shitlady steps up to lay the final nail in this fat fuck's coffin of delusion. This girl is slightly taller than the angry blob but still weighs 30 pounds less! How did the butterball defend herself this time? "You're a bunch of bigots that just want to fat shame people who can't lose weight as easy as you all do! You're lucky because blah blah blah metabolism blah blah blah genetics blah blah blah excuses. You hurt my feefees wahhh wahhh wahhh." I looked at her sympathetically with my best Oscar worthy performance of puppy dog eyes and said, "you hurt the scale's feelings by stepping on it." My friends lost their shit and were howling with laughter. Pig-little retreated in defeat and pulled out a clif bar and started chowing down. At this point I couldn't resist delivering the finishing blow, "that sugar bar you're gobbling down, to swallow your feelings, is why you're fat." BOOM! Mic drop and I left the lab.  Today was a good day.