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EverydayAngelKarie
Joined: 07 Mar 2007
Posts: 761
Location: Lakewood, CA
Chubby Girl Rant
(this poem could be on the humorous board, but it's also an emotional piece i suppose)
Maybe you didn't come here to listen to a poem about the chubby girl blues,
but this is a poem about the chubby girl blues.
People think that fat is funny, so naturally, I am both.
Though I prefer to be considered chubby.
But for the sake of drama I'll say fat.
Fat has a much fatter impact.
This doesn’t mean I have low self-esteem.
I consider myself cute and cuddly.
A cliche teddy bear of sorts. Come and snuggle me.
It's cozy underneath this J-ello.
And it doesn't mean that I don’t care about my health.
It means that I love beer, soda, and the occasional midnight PopTart.
Nor does it mean that I’m not fit enough to squash your spiny frame.
Oopsie daisy! I think I just had a slip of the tongue.
Did I say fit enough to squash your spiny frame?
I meant fat enough.
I am definitely fat enough to squash your spiny frame!
But I’m also smart enough to know that
squashing an evil twerp out of its misery would be inhumane.
People should always have a chance to learn
from their negative judgement and underestimations,
and if you experienced
Premature-Death-By-Fat-Ass-Squish
you would probably learn nothing.
Also, violence is never the answer.
That’s the first thing a chubby girl learns in school.
Because she’s expected to lose the fight.
Every. Single. Time.
She’s expected to be the friendly girl who never speaks her mind.
She’s expected to be bad at sports.
She’s always picked last in PE unless she proves herself,
or by the chance of some God-Bless-The-Chubby-People-For-One-Day miracle,
that the retards in her PE class
want to use her as the goalie
because she can block
85% of the net without ever moving.
In reality she is not that large.
But sometimes she feels like “whale” is not far off.
And yes, I did say retards. I’m not trying to be politically correct here.
You can blame my lack of political correction on the heart palpitations
I’m experiencing at this present moment.
HELP!
Does anyone here know CPR?
Emergency! Chubby girl with heart palpitations near death is in the vicinity!
Doctor! Doctor! Does anyone know fuckin’ CPR?
Nobody here is a doctor.
So I fall to the ground and get stuck under the weight of my heavy heaving heart.
After the initial shocked stares and dropped jaws, I stand up and yell, I’m OK!
And I continue reading this poem!
Sue me about my caloric intake, and how I just scared the nothingness
out of your stomach when I fell to the ground pretending to die a horribly fat and tragic death!
Just wait and see what happens when my arteries unclog
and unleash a hellish storm of carbs into your aura
and turn it into a bloated blob of jackass bologna carcass,
topped with bullshit pepperoni and complete with
a blood red plethora of cherries on top.
But always remember, that violence is never the answer.
Especially if the violence involves food.
Because people all over the world could feed off of the grub that just exploded from my chubby tummy!
If it bothers you to hear me talk openly about my technically obese BMI,
go to the privacy of your home, and purge all of your frustrations into the media toilet.
Then eat a hamburger to cheer up.
I really don’t care.
It interrupts my dinner thinking about your skinny regurgitating values,
and we all know, a fat girl can’t enjoy her dinner if there are
skinny little A-holes purging at that same exact moment.
Note: I know that not all skinny people are A-holes and I know that all people do not hate fatties or chubbies. There is just much too much to love.
And don’t worry, you don’t need to avoid offending me
by assuming that I am the speaker of this poem.
Because, really, it is me.
I wore a tighter T-shirt today
just to prove
that I am this chubby girl.
I’m sure you knew that already.
And at any rate,
nothing calls for a snack
more than a poem
of buffet
proportion.
Fri Sep 09, 2011 3:12 am
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