Writing Hate Mail Like a Fat Babe Does

e3fa6b052901728308bd3b73c85ee097
Connect the dots, asshole.

Dear fat babe harassers of all ages and genders,

 

I get it, it’s summer, people are wearing shorts when its hot and that has got you seriously bothered. We all fucking know you, you are entitled, you hate when fat femmes feel safe in the world, you are bored, you get off on scaring us, you love the vibe you get after you shame us for existing, you feel like it is your god given right to police other people’s bodies, and you need to feel like a big fucking deal cause you are deficient in other areas – namely decency, but probably also your ability to get laid by someone who is actually into it. I do really get it, lemme summarize: you are a fucking dick and telling you to go fuck yourself is LITERALLY too good for you. See, I get it, I’m an emotional empath like that; I understand that you are a sack of shit that doesn’t deserve nice things.

And yet here I am wasting my time and energy on you because you have been fucking with a lot of fat babes I know lately, and we are more than a little tired of dealing with the nonsense that is your existence. You have been shouting out of cars while we are out walking and riding our bikes, you are getting in our way at the beach, speaking when you have most definitely NOT been spoken to, and honestly, you are just taking up the fucking space we are entitled to, and you can’t shut the fuck up about it. Even though we have heard your shit a fucking million times before (yes i have a fat ass, yes I’m a fat bitch, yes i have thunder thighs, yes i do think i should be wearing this, yes i should go fuck myself, obvi.) you still think we need to hear it again and again and again.

Now I will be real clear here, you are not novel, you are not new, you are not special.  Seen one bag of dicks and you have seen ’em all, amiright, babes? Most of us have been putting up with you for the better part of our lives and mostly we have learned to do what we need to do to survive you measly little ass wipes. Whether we shout back, find solidarity with other fat babes, smash your windows, cry hot angry tears, key your cars, put up with your fucking shit at the family dinner table, or like, follow your sorry ass home, track down your mother, and fucking tell on you, we are taking care of business like the fucking boss bitches that we are.

But we are also tired. We are tired of having to brainstorm witty comebacks to the fucked up shit you feel entitled to say to us. We are over having to brace ourselves every time we go out in the world. We want to be able to do the shit that we want to do without fear of you opening your mouth and taking a big shit out of it. Taking care of business takes a fucking toll and that is on you. You are responsible for stealing our joy in moving our bodies. You are the reason, we don’t wear the things we want to wear. You are why we avoid beaches, pools, gyms, doctor’s offices. You are responsible for fucking with our lives. You are the fucking reason we carry shame about the bodies that have survived you over and over again.

But just because you are the reason doesn’t mean you have the power. Just because you want to destroy us doesn’t mean you will. Just because parts of us are so deeply and irrevocably hurt by you doesn’t mean every part is. For example, my fist is SUPER fine.

We have spent our lives building up armour so that we can protect the gentle, delicate, sweet, and fragile parts of us that hold space in our bellies, and upper arms, and thighs, and chins, chests and hearts. We protect those parts because they are vulnerable, but also because they are fierce and eventually, we hope, they will be the parts of us that we allow to be free, even for just a moment when we know it is safe enough.

Cause asshole, you may be a constant in our lives, you may find the words that can cut us down even when we know they shouldn’t, you may even sometimes trick us into thinking we deserve what you are dishing out, but you don’t fucking own us. You are not in charge here. You are a thing we get together to manage, deal with, work around. You are a problem to be solved. And if there is one thing angry fat bitches are good at it is asshole mathematics. All we need to do is knock down the first domino and the rest of you will come toppling down. Its douchebag physics, you taught us that.

Motherfucker, you are mean. And boring. And mean, boring, motherfuckers need to get the hell out of our way. Because as of this fucking minute, we are coming for you.

2dd0720abd3a327ad66f0d47b8f3917e--sinful-nail-polish-nail-polishes

Always dead to me,

Your Fave Fat Babe

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s