Moving

Aside from the obvious fact that fat girls don't like varying from their sedentary existence PERIOD, the type of moving I'm speaking of is slightly different. Today I speak of the moving that implies setting up a new barn for you to be harnessed to a milking machine and have your udders pumped.

I'm talking about moving houses; getting all your shit together and migrating to some greener [or in this recession, browner] pastures. I'm pretty sure that no one actually LIKES moving aside from those who make their living out of it, and even they only like it for the monetary compensation. But as we all know, no one hates anything like fat girls hate everything. We redefine disdain.

As usual, this is a multi-faceted type of hate. We don't just hate the fact that we have to move something somewhere besides the fork to the hole in our face; we overanalyze all of the intricacies of moving and hate it all individually. We'd hate for a part of it to feel left out.

Personally, I have more experience moving other people than I do moving my own dojo. That's one of the things we hate the most: helping people. But that's just because we're bitter. There's no real reason we should dislike it. It has nothing to do with our lard. It has to do with our mental instability.

But when you're a fat girl, especially one like me where there's no part of you that is just disgustingly disproportionate to the rest of your body and you just hold your weight EVERYWHERE on a pretty equal level, people just assume that you're strong.

Granted, you probably are. You've had to lug your own body around for the past however-many years, so you're basically a trained Olympian. But it sucks that it's expected, because they make you lift the big shit.

I, for one, am a beast. I can lift a live bear off of a piece of salmon. And I would, because I fucking love salmon.

The skinny girls can lift a pillow and not be judged. She's just "delicate." If a fat girl just carried a pillow down them stairs, she is the laziest piece of shit to ever come out of the gene pool and she is thrown off the roof, Highlander style.

There can only be one.

And then even though you're lifting the most enormous couch of all time with one hand and juggling fireballs with the other, you're trying SO hard not to pant because you don't want to let on that you're actually just a fat girl. Pride is huge with hippos. We can show no weakness.

And then there's the sweat. It gets everywhere. Between the fire that you're juggling, the heavy lifting and the heat that is ALWAYS sweltering regardless of season [and everybody decides to move in the summer anyways...], you're just sopping wet and your palms are just dripping with grease. This makes it very hard to grip things, let me tell you! And then it's in chubbo's rolls, her hair, her buttcrack.

Nightmares forever. Not only for her, having been the person sweating, but for anyone who had to read about the sweat in her buttcrack.

Moral of the Story: Fat girls hate moving because they feel like a circus act. Which they are, so I don't know why they're so bitter about it.