Seriously, I can. I have every right to. Unless you have a medical condition that causes you to be overweight, or prevents you from exercising or eating healthy, you have no excuse for being fat. And I have every right to make fun of you.
Unlike you, I take care of my body. I don’t overeat, I don’t eat chelo-kabobs or chicken kabobs. I don’t eat abgoosht, and I don’t eat a whole plate of white rice that has a 1000 calories at 10:00 pm and consequently, I don’t sit on my ass and talk about politics for the rest of the night while I eat a whole bowl of “ash zard” for dessert. Hey, I like cannolis, cupcakes, and yes, even “ash zard,” as much the next guy, but I exercise self control. Nice concept, ha, “self control?” Look into it. It may help you in other ways as well. For example, if you knew anything about self control, you wouldn’t have poured onto the streets back in 1979 and you wouldn’t have brought in an obscure mullah that no one had heard from to rule our country who, in turn, caused you to flee the country, settle in the West and become the fat, chelo-kabob eating slobs that you have become today. So, don’t tell me it’s not nice to make fun of fat people. It is actually quite nice to do so. I have earned that right by denying myself some of the best pleasures in life: tasty food, which you fat people don’t seem to have a problem stuffing your faces with at all hours of the day.
And why don’t you exercise? If I can go out at 9:00 pm and run ten miles on icy sidewalks in sub-zero temperatures, you can do the same in sunny California. What, you have “back pain?” Don’t worry about it. It’s because you have been sitting on your fat ass for too long. It’ll all get better once you hit the gym. It’s too cold? Too warm? Join a fucking gym. It’s climate controlled and you can probably do it for as low as $50.00 a month. That’s less than what you pay for your delicious “noon khameie” each week. If you don’t exercise, and I do, and if you’re fat, and I’m skinny, I have every right to make fun of you every single time I see you. I have earned that right fair and square.
Now, let’s have some fun. Can you see your toes when you take a shower? No? That’s hilarious! How many chins do you have? If you’re a man, do you share your wife’s bras to keep your man breasts firm and tight? Did I hurt you? Ahhhh….hey, don’t feel so bad; you’ll probably die of a heart attack soon anyway. It’s all that disgusting animal fat that has built up in your arteries as a result of eating all those chelo-kabobs. Also, keep this in mind: when you die, I’ll be at your funeral. And in your memory, I will tell everyone about every instance of sloppiness that I have seen when you were alive. All those times that you snored and woke up the whole house, all those times that I saw you drenched in rancid, fat infused sweat because you walked up one flight of stairs, all those times that you passed out on the couch while still gripping the empty bowl of “ash zard,” all those times that you complained that the “Shamshiri” restaurant didn’t give you enough rice, all those times you put half a stick of butter on your rice….yes, you fat, dead slob…I am keeping track, and I’ll be there. Trust me. That’s because I’ll be here long after you’re gone. Happy eating!
