Fatties strike back!
I will sit next to you at the movies, on the Metro and on the bus, my plump, sweaty thigh crushing yours and my multiple rolls of fat taking up the arm rests. I do this to repulse you, and it's working beautifully. When I go to the gym I wear a leotard that's 3 sizes too small and get on the treadmill in front of you so you can only stare at my gargantuan ass. I use the motorized cart at the grocery store and when I see you coming down the cookie aisle I block you.
And here's a mental image for you: we fat people are breeding. A whole new generation of squinty eyed brats with an insatiable lust for Doritos, squeezing melted Kit Kats between their pudgy fingers. Every time you see our children you'll have to deal with the mental picture of two fat people, naked, rolling around with their roly-poly partner as they grapple, sweat and moan.
My goal? To bankrupt your health plan, bankrupt Medicare and raise your taxes. All of my fat friends are buying gallons of ice cream and dozens of donuts and we swear we won't stop until you beg for mercy. So don't bother telling us what to do, it only makes us eat more. Think about that the next time you see a rotund, gigantic, well-fed human being with a grin on their pudgy, pimply smiling face as they plod down the street. They're doing it to piss you, yes you, off.