The Sun published a noxious pictorial of multi-stoned British women today. It was all I could do to contain my projectile vomiting.
(Incidentally, one British stone is about 14 American pounds).
See, I’m not faint of heart. I enjoy gore; visual depravity does not deter me, and in fact, I enjoy the sight of blood, guts, human detritus, etc., but there is something particularly repulsive about fat women in bikinis that truly tickles my aversive gag. It’s as if there is a primal reaction that propels violently from your guts upon beholding these slabs of blubber. It’s not natural. I don’t care how much these women attempt to garner all SJW commiseration.
‘I won’t diet for the sun’: Meet the 75 STONE bikini babes who will flaunt their curves with pride this summer reads the headline.
They are shameless, proud and aesthetically toxic on levels seen only in Fukushima.
Go at it, fellas! There’s plenty to go around, and around, and around.
Anne-Lise Barber, hailing from Norway, hasn’t experienced a cold day in her life for the last 10 years.
She proudly boasts, “For me there is plus-size and obese. I am plus size. I eat well, I do yoga and I use a local outdoor gym. I am healthy just big and in three weeks we are off to Spain for some summer sun. I can’t wait to hit the beach. The fact is some people have to be big – it’s either in our DNA or we are built that way. To fat shame us for embracing fashion trends and daring to wear a swim suit is plain wrong and I won’t have anyone tell me what I can or cannot do. I used to be slimmer but I wasn’t happy and I’d rather be happy and large than slim and sad. I’d rather be a size 24 than a size 10.”
Do we need to tell these women it’s not “shame,” per se.
It’s abhorrence? A fine difference. And it’s not DNA, it’s joules, and I’m not talking about the ones where your triceps or chins go.