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My whole life, in Elementary School, people would always call me porky. I mean I was sort of festively plump but NOT THAT FAT. It got so bad that my dad once said that he needed to take the dog... er ME out for a walk to lose some weight. He even calls me his butterball. Oookay... For one, I am NOT a Discount Turkey that you get every holiday (or I can be PC and say Festive Gathering...) I am a person... WITH FEELINGS. Yes, you do have feelings through thick skin/bones. Yes fat people feel too. I AM FAT. Fabulous and Thick! Now, my dad calls me his Waffle Iron. My friends don't think I'm fat but one friend in particular, her name is Celeste, she thinks that I need to quit eating so much Carlos'. Ew Carlos. Ok the old man who stands at the door is just CREEPY. He's like four feet tall and he just stands there and watches you so you don't take any of their greasyspoon sodas. He looks insane. Then there's the lady who has a mole. So the fashion magazines say moles are attractive, WELL I SAY IF YOUR MOLE HAS THREE GIANT WHITE HAIRS COMING FROM IT THAT YOU ARE A WITCH. And so, PLEASE, everyone let's go buy some overpriced freezies (who carries dimes anyways...) and some hairy/sweaty poutine. Health Canada will come for them, they don't use gloves while handling food (and they use the same hands to scoop up your greaseball fries then use them to handle your tree-money). Next year I will be attending Nepean where I will move to greasier venues for my thigh "muscles".
Thx
Clara

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