eating water?
Supplements the debate/discussion thread
- Thread starter Freefaller
- Start date
eating water?
I like to chew stuff, have been the same with pen lids since I was a child too.
inb4 gay joke
Soldato
- Joined
- 3 Oct 2009
- Posts
- 19,893
- Location
- Wales
U are 1 ****ing cheeky **** m8 i swear i'll wreck u i swear on my mum's life
Soldato
- Joined
- 3 Oct 2009
- Posts
- 19,893
- Location
- Wales
You wake up in the morning. Rolling over to hit the alarm clock involves struggling to roll over your mass to reach it. You manage to hit it. Sigh, 8:30. You have no energy and feel like ****. Getting out of bed feels like you're lifting a squat bar. It's hard to move, because your mass just gets in the way of everything.
You see yourself in the mirror, you look up and down with disgust. You tell yourself that you're not that fat, that it's just a little pudge. As if a little pudge could weigh 120 pounds and an extra 20 inches of waistline. You dread the rest of your day, because you know deep down that:
1) Everyone is, in fact, judging you by your size. You have to watch what you say, you have to be careful about what you eat around others, anything to make sure you're not following the fatty stereotype.
2) The day is going to be long. It's going to suck. You're going to have trouble fitting in your chair (or being on your feet). People will pretend you don't exist. Every time you hear laughter, you can't help but wonder if it's at your expense. Even your friends will treat you like less of a friend.
You get to the bathroom for your morning routine. You had to pick this apartment because the other one had a stand-up shower in it and you couldn't fit in the shower stall. This one has the bathtub with a shower head. That doesn't keep the shower curtain from bulging out due to your mass. After your shower, you go to brush your teeth. You get to lean really far in, because your gut keeps you from being able to get your mouth over the sink.
You go to get dressed. Your bending over to pick your pants off the ground is a chore. You groan, because your body has trouble moving. You grab your pants with the 52 waistline and the belt that had extra holes drilled into it. You put them on, along with a clean shirt. You look in the mirror. This shirt shows your man-boobs and gut way more than you'd like, so maybe the all-black shirt will help hide them.
You get to your car. You unlock the door, and lower yourself in. Your gut is pressed firmly up against the steering wheel. The seat is as far back as it'll go. You feel disgusted with yourself that you're this big. You're depressed, and it feels hopeless. Your friends don't really like you, your family thinks you're a fat idiot, the only comfort you have is food. If only someone would care about you and help you overcome this burden.
You look at the time. It's 8:45, and you've already decided you hate your life. Only another 15 hours and 15 minutes to go before bed time.
Time to eat some ice.
You see yourself in the mirror, you look up and down with disgust. You tell yourself that you're not that fat, that it's just a little pudge. As if a little pudge could weigh 120 pounds and an extra 20 inches of waistline. You dread the rest of your day, because you know deep down that:
1) Everyone is, in fact, judging you by your size. You have to watch what you say, you have to be careful about what you eat around others, anything to make sure you're not following the fatty stereotype.
2) The day is going to be long. It's going to suck. You're going to have trouble fitting in your chair (or being on your feet). People will pretend you don't exist. Every time you hear laughter, you can't help but wonder if it's at your expense. Even your friends will treat you like less of a friend.
You get to the bathroom for your morning routine. You had to pick this apartment because the other one had a stand-up shower in it and you couldn't fit in the shower stall. This one has the bathtub with a shower head. That doesn't keep the shower curtain from bulging out due to your mass. After your shower, you go to brush your teeth. You get to lean really far in, because your gut keeps you from being able to get your mouth over the sink.
You go to get dressed. Your bending over to pick your pants off the ground is a chore. You groan, because your body has trouble moving. You grab your pants with the 52 waistline and the belt that had extra holes drilled into it. You put them on, along with a clean shirt. You look in the mirror. This shirt shows your man-boobs and gut way more than you'd like, so maybe the all-black shirt will help hide them.
You get to your car. You unlock the door, and lower yourself in. Your gut is pressed firmly up against the steering wheel. The seat is as far back as it'll go. You feel disgusted with yourself that you're this big. You're depressed, and it feels hopeless. Your friends don't really like you, your family thinks you're a fat idiot, the only comfort you have is food. If only someone would care about you and help you overcome this burden.
You look at the time. It's 8:45, and you've already decided you hate your life. Only another 15 hours and 15 minutes to go before bed time.
Time to eat some ice.