I can't help but take it personally when you talk about how horrified you are at the weight you might gain if you eat more than your allotted two tablespoons of hummus for lunch or skip a workout at the gym. When you spit out words of disgust at the sight of a person who is heavy, I'm honestly shocked at why it is such an affront to you personally. You are so convinced that you possess an above-average intelligence, so it cannot slip your notice that I am fat when you make these comments in front of me. It pisses me off that your bigoted, shallow attitude puts me on the defensive and I feel compelled to silently list my attributes as proof that I'm indeed a person of value and substance. Meanwhile, you're a sad, shallow person. The evidence that supports this conclusion: You have no old friends or long-lasting friendships, your relationships with men are abysmal failures, and other than an obligatory holiday visit every two and half years, you have no relationship with your own family. Here's a tip for free from a fatty: If you stopped obsessing over your BMI and started working on what's on the inside, you could have real friendships with quality people, and you might cultivate enough genuine warmth so that you don't repel every decent man with your reptilian coldness.
P.S. Heavy people are battling their own demons, and they sure as fuck don't need a trashy booze-swilling bitch like you making things worse. Thank god my brother got the fuck away from you.
—Anonymous