~ IM TOO FAT TO EXIST ~

Once upon a time in a small town, there lived a man named Larry—me. I was known for two things: my insatiable love for food and my utter lack of social skills. Every morning, I would wake up, stretch my arms, and feel the gentle tug of my flaps and chin folds as I moved. My body was a landscape of softness, each roll telling a story of late-night snacks and indulgent meals.

The Daily Routine
I would shuffle into the kitchen, my belly gently bouncing with each step, and prepare my breakfast. A mountain of pancakes awaited me, golden and fluffy, drenched in syrup that glistened like liquid gold. As I devoured my meal, I could feel the weight of my chin pressing against my chest, a constant reminder of my struggles. I would watch cooking shows, dreaming of creating culinary masterpieces, but the thought of maneuvering in the kitchen without knocking over a chair was daunting.

The Social Struggles
Despite my cheerful demeanor, I often felt like an outsider. Whenever I tried to join a conversation, people would either ignore me or make snide remarks about my weight. "Why don’t you join a gym?" they would say, chuckling. I would smile back, but inside, I felt the sting of loneliness, my flaps quivering slightly with the effort to maintain my composure.

The Fateful Day
One fateful day, I decided to attend a local fair, hoping to find companionship among the crowd. I squeezed into my favorite shirt—one that I had outgrown years ago but refused to part with, the fabric stretching uncomfortably over my belly. As I ambled through the fair, I spotted a booth selling donuts. Unable to resist, I bought a dozen, thinking they would be the perfect icebreaker.

However, as I reached for a donut, my elbow nudged a stack of plates, sending them crashing to the ground. The sound echoed through the fair, and I stood frozen in embarrassment, frosting splattering across my shirt. Laughter erupted around me, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, my chin folds quivering with shame.

The Realization
That night, I sat alone in my room, surrounded by empty food containers. I realized that my love for food had overshadowed my desire for connection. I felt like a balloon—full and buoyant on the outside, but deflated and sad on the inside. My flaps and folds felt like heavy weights, dragging me down into a pit of despair.

A New Beginning
Determined to change, I decided to join a local cooking class. It was there that I met others who shared my passion for food. Slowly, I learned not only to cook but also to connect with people. I found joy in sharing meals, laughter, and stories, my chin folds softening as I smiled more often.

Though I never became a fitness guru, I discovered that friendship and laughter were far more fulfilling than any plate of pancakes. I embraced my body, flaps and all, realizing that it’s not about the size of my waistline but the size of my heart that truly matters.

Conclusion
My journey was far from perfect, but I learned to wear my title as the “fatass” of the town with pride. I was loved for who I was, not just for what I looked like, and that made all the difference.