Tuesday, August 12, 2014

You Fat Bastards

By Flea - Be A Survivor

Americans pretty much make me throw up in my mouth.  We're a bunch o' fat bastards.  Two years ago I made a commitment to my health and I did two things: I quit those fucking cancer sticks they peddle (and my wife still smokes) and I lost 30 pounds.  I am proud to say I have kept that weight off and I still don't smoke - although I do enjoy the "occasional" cigar, in fact, I really don't even drink, save a beer or a glass of wine on very rare occasions.  Americans are pigs, face it, and really, stop the bullshit excuses, we're greedy fat fucks...admit it already.

I know a kid, he's 5 years old, he is 70 fucking pounds.  I was like holy Mary Mother of God are you shitting me.  Nope, I am dead serious.  He eats like shit and it shows.  This isn't some irregularity either, look at all the lard ass kids in your neighborhood, and their even fatter parents.  That's fucking child abuse, and your little piglets should be taken from you and given to some responsible people to raise.

I eat OK, not good, but not horribly.  I enjoy some fast food now and then, but I exercise on a regular basis which consists of pushups, sit-ups, and jogging - 4 days a week.  I splurge on the weekends and take it easy with the food during the week.  It works for me.  I am looking into one of the machines that you can do multiple exercise on as my next investment in my health.

You look at folks in other countries and you're like wow those bitches are malnourished, uh no, they are fucking healthy!  We're just so programmed to believe "Oh, she is beautiful on this inside!", that we have disillusioned ourselves into thinking pleasantly plump is the new healthy.  My little Becca is ready to have an apple shoved in her mouth and stuffing packed in her ass before she is tossed into the oven, but boy isn't she a looker?  Nope she is a fat pig and needs help, fast.

Put down the drumstick and get on the treadmill.  No one says you have to go cold turkey, start slow. When I started jogging, I couldn't jog for more than 5 minutes before thinking I was going to die.  Now a 30 minute jog is nothing...I'll jog 30 minutes and then go cut the lawn and I live on a hill with a fucking push mower!

Here is something else you can try as well, your mileage (risk) may vary because I am some guy in the Internet, not a fucking doctor.  I eat a very big breakfast and a decent sized lunch during the week and I don't eat dinner at all.  I find it beneficial to go to bed on an empty stomach because when your body starts the repair process when you're sleeping it uses stored calories rather that that belly full of food to fuel that.  I have found that has accelerated my weight loss.  The key is eating a really hearty breakfast (the most important meal by the way).

It won't matter how much water, food, and ammo you have stockpiled, if you can't run from the front door to the mailbox and back without having a fucking stroke, you're zombie food...and with all the fat asses in this country those zombies will be a hungry bunch.

So get off your ass, stop shoveling food into your pie hole, and move around you fat bastards.

That is all...

1 comment:

  1. There were five of us children. Only one had an extra pound growing up. My parents were slim. But, we played hard and rarely had any sweets unless Mama baked a cake, maybe some fudge. We had no tv or ac. I am 68, so old enough to know what heat is like in the deep South.

    My daughter's son wore a size 6 pants when he was 2 1/2. She bought him food when we were out before he even asked. She ordered more for him than she did for either of us. He 19 and a fat blob. So is the 13-yr-old g-daughter.

    I made an effort to get apples and bananas into my children, but she says hers are free to eat one or not. I never forced mine, but had my ways...lol. She has to sugar their unsugared applesauce because the "might not" like it. She never just gives them anything. She worries they might not like it and "doctors" their food to make it more palatable. She and her siblings at unsweetened applesauce, and I did not worry and sugar it.

    This all comes from her father who was a piggy baby and toddler and all through high school. He only lost weight before he met me and then ballooned again. He must have sugar and sweets all the time. After the divorce when he was more responsible for their eating, all three gained weight to the point of being morbidly obese. The two girls got in under control. The son did not.