Concentration camps & war against fat-haterzzzz

In my dream, I was in charge of finding someone who could be the leader of a new concentration camp. They handed me a small piece of paper that I was to give to whomever I found worthy of the position. I walked through a long corridor, opening doors, trying to find the perfect Führer. No one really seemed interested in managing the camp and the ones that did, I didn’t trust. When I had finally interviewed everyone, I knew I only had two to choose from. It had to be either James Acaster or Ben Target. Acaster had expressed indifference when I had asked him about the job. I knew he probably wouldn’t love it, but I had the feeling he would honour the responsibility. Also, he’d probably turn it into a really funny character and make it fun for the prisoners. Ben Target would hate it – but he’s so lovely and I know him better than I know James, so he would know I didn’t choose him because I wanted to be mean. Ben was socially a better choice. Before I could make a decision, I woke up.

It is my first morning blog ever. Possibly also the last. It’s something I am trying. The good ol’ writing-in-the-morning-before-your-mind-is-awake-enough-to-censur-you-trick. You know, morning blogs.Like the one Richard Herring has, only less funny and more about concentration camps.

I woke up to a big disappointment. Last night, someone had posted an awful article (trigger warning) which completely fat-shamed a guy on an airplane. He had posted it with the comment “…..” which, we all know, can go both ways. It’s a classy way of not telling us how you feel, but letting it up to us to interpret. I was fuming, ready to take the battle. I have previously yelled at people who posted and supported fatshaming and then I have deleted them as friends. No matter how close of friends they had been before. I was ready to do it again. I asked him what his stupid trail of dots meant and then I went to sleep. I woke up and I saw it. One notification. He had replied. I clicked it. Are you excited? I was.

“I think it’s slightly too much. Only slightly.”

What?

That’s not good enough. I can’t start a raging hate-war against you, when you are partly on my side. You just brought this argument into being only about details. There is nothing I can say now – “YOU ARE WRONG! IT IS NOT ONLY SLIGHTLY TOO MUCH, IT IS COMPLETELY TOO MUCH. THAT’S MORE TOO MUCH THAN YOU JUST THOUGHT!”

I am considering deleting him anyways. Just for posting something shitty like that. I would also delete people who posted something racist. Possibly also throw in a comment. But nothing gets me going as fatshaming and fat-hatred. It is not because I feel that it is more important than racism – but fortunately, there are loads of people fighting the good fight against that. Very, very few people are fighting for fat people. So that is my cause.

Until I finally lose weight, then fuck those fatties, am I right, guys? Guys?

I just had chocolate for breakfast. Bow, for I am still your queen.

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