Reasons why being fat blows. Part 1.

There are so many reasons why being fat is bad. I intend to list them all, but it will take a long fucking time. Let me just share this little nugget of wisdom though, anyone who tells you "it's what's on the inside that matters" is either, a) Fat and in denial, or b) Lying to make you feel better.

That's why couples often are around the same level in looks. If you see a smoking hot girl with a fat, ugly guy (or vice versa) they either stacked on the weight after they met, or there's some other factor like money involved. Think of the couples you know, are they about the same level when it comes to looks? Of course in Japan this rule is bent slightly, because geeky white guys can get hot Japanese chicks quite easily, however, the fat rule still stands, the only guys I've known in Japan to not get pussy pretty much whenever they want have been fat guys, or "scary" guys AKA not white guys...

Of course we are all going to get old and looks will fade, but first impressions count and being fat gives the impression that you have no will power, are lazy and don't care about yourself. This isn't always true but that's the world we live in. I have lost count of the times I have HATED being fat, I was never teased for being fat, but I got lucky.

The formal dress

The end of school formal (equivalent to 'the prom' I guess) was an event that I was looking forward to. I'd just finished high school, had been accepted to University, had a great group of friends and was generally content. Except for one thing.
 I was fat. Never fat enough to reach whale-like status, but fat enough to feel uncomfortable. Fat enough to be jealous of my skinny friends. Fat enough to hate myself (although teenage angst factored in there too). Fat enough to not be able to buy clothes that I really wanted to look good in. Fat enough to get depressed and eat a whole block of chocolate as compensation, thus exacerbating the problem. Fat. Too fat.

The dress is a crucial element when you go to the school formal, it's up there with wedding dresses on the dress importance scale, and even more so when you're 18 years old. I put off searching for a dress, I didn't want to do it with my friends because I was embarrassed that I wouldn't be able to fit in to anything and they would pity me. I decided to go with my mum, because who else can you be a fat miserable mess with if not your mum? We ended up going to Sydney for the day (about an hour away from where we lived) because surely there would be more choice in the big city. This was probably our first mistake, going shopping where we actually had no idea of the local shops and where exactly to find what we were looking for. And what was I looking for? Well, I had a perfect image in my mind. It had to be a pastel colour, maybe pink or purple. Tight bodice. Puffy skirt from the hips. This would have been great, but in my image I also had a tiny waist, accentuated by the tight dress. Looking back, I really was an idiot, all I needed to do was take a quick look in the mirror to know that kind of dress was all wrong for me. Have you ever been to a wedding where the bridesmaids have those tight bodice dresses, and the one fat girl looks ridiculous with all her blubber spilling out of them? That's what I would have looked like, all wrong!

We went to  a LOT of dress shops that day, and the more we looked and tried, the more I just wanted to scream and cry that it wasn't fair. I wanted to find a dress that was perfect, that would make me perfect. We'd been searching all day and it was just getting worse and worse. Then we got to the last place my sanity would go for one day, the big department store in the centre of the city, surely there would be something, anything there. As I went in the fitting room with a dress I thought looked nice, I knew pretty much straight away that it wasn't going to fit, but I decided to torture myself and try anyway. As I tried with all my might to shove my handfuls of fat in the seams and wrench up the zipper, only to end up jumping around like a fat froggy, I lost it, sat on the ground of the fitting room. And cried. Sobbed like a chubby baby surrounded by silky purple material, tear stains dropping and soaking in straight away only to be followed by more tears. My mum knocked on the fitting room floor and I could see her feet next to a tiny pair of leather shoes belonging to the sales assistant, a lovely little Asian lady who was bewildered as the door swung open and she was faced with an over-sized, emotional puddle on the floor of her fitting room. She looked heartbroken for me, but assured me that I'd find the right dress for me, I just had to look around more. She should have gently directed me to the fatty store but I don't think she had the heart, and just as well, I may have tried to slash my wrist with the tag on the dress...

So, reason number 1 why being fat blows- You can't buy nice clothes. Ever. The fatty store has NO equivalent, it's all dowdy and fatty looking! You want that hot little black dress, then you need that hot little body to go with it!