An Open Letter To My Body #1; Stop Storing Fat, You Retard!

Dear Body,

Are you a fucking retard?

Why do you feel compelled to store every little excess calorie that I eat and drink as fat?

How long have we been together? Our whole fucking life, right?

And how many days have we gone without food? Fucking none, right?

So why are you such a paranoid freak, squirreling away calories like we’re never gonna see another meal in our life?! We’ve been lucky enough to have been born into a situation where food has never been a concern. How is that not sinking in with you, you retard?!

Stop creating fat!

You like sex, right? It feels good in pretty much every ounce of you, right? Well, if you keep storing everything I eat and drink as fat, you can kiss copulation goodbye. There is an inverse relationship between stored fat and getting laid.

And how do you feel about exercise? It sucks, right? It’s a painful experience for both of us.

So let’s just boil it down. We both love sex and hate exercise, right? In addition to that, I love eating greasy double cheeseburgers and buckets of buffalo wings drenched in blue cheese while drinking exotic IPAs and white russians. But if you keep storing fat like a dipshit, in order for the possibility of sex to still be on the table, we have to spend all our free time exercising so that we don’t look like Jabba the Hut.

Just think about it. Instead of righting this wrong that you continuously commit by slaving away on a treadmill like a roly poly rodent on a hamster wheel, we could be lounging at the beach eating meat lover’s pizza and drinking pina coladas while humping bikini-clad coeds.

Doesn’t that sound good? How much more time is it gonna take for you to get it, you dumb shit?!

When the fuck are you gonna learn?! Stop storing fat!

Just stop!!!

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