Wanting to please everyone by nature of your genetics and ancestral leanings, plus being a feminine and masculine blend of a woman design – rejected by all of societies as an inferior breed due to your feminine side, add to that your total lack of interest in any sport that involves a ball and getting hit and loving the fat in everything, except on a body to look at, which you can only see as anger covered in oil, reaching every high note of violence against one’s self, thrashing through every sweaty pore long, morose songs of regret.
You’re in the abhor department now of those who hate the world so badly that one punishes themselves by filling their guts – more than one you’re presuming – with culinary gratitude – wanting to be rid of that which seeks to punish rather than cure by absorbing, then flushing down the toilet in disgust from wanting to be a part to all of it. For wanting to be the vehicle that transforms food to poo, good to bad, just for the satisfaction of being there at the moment of transition from dark to light. A 24/7 job it became to flush the world away through your gut. Whoever thought the dark would remain as fat, while the light got flushed into the long dark sewer, out to the ocean to feed all the fishes and fauna, while you sit numb on the toilet too tired to rise above it all. Why sink lower and lower? Is that me or somebody like me, or is it you or somebody like you?
FAT-FREE CHEF™© 