And I look good. Because, f*ck you, that’s why. Picture taken by Bat Sheva Creations (Facebook). I had just gotten my French Bulldog, Marie, and decided to have some pictures taken by a pro for dating profiles etc. Make-up: Bat Sheva. Dress: Hell Bunny. Hair: 100% natural. And I don’t care my teeth aren’t snow-white, I don’t care you can see I’m big from the neck down, I don’t care you can see the dumb “PMS made me smash a window” scar or the even dumber “I like that band, let’s get their logo tattooed on my hand” tattoo. I got a Hell Bunny dress and a Frenchie with one blue eye, and you don’t LOL. Because let’s face it, I represent the painful truth that fat people can be beautiful. Deal with it. I can’t get over the mystery of why fat people are collectively dismissed as ugly, when slim people with ugly faces get a chance for being slim. I’d rather be fat-assed than huge-nosed or meth-teethed. I mean no disrespect to people who would be considered ugly by others; I am trying to say: apparently fat people cannot be beautiful, and slim people cannot be ugly – while both statements are incorrect. Can you look at someone with a beautiful face and tell them they’re ugly because their ass needs a plus-size pair of pants? Or because their belly has an extra roll? Contrarywise, would you tell a person with an “ugly” face that they’re pretty because their weight isn’t striking? Makes no sense. If I were getting a little less hate – okay, a lot less – I would not feel bad about my body at all. I only do because society won’t let me feel any other way. Any moment of confidence and self-love is ended by a bunch of people showering me in dirty looks or calling “whale” at me. Does this face look like a whale’s? 
Weigh on me. 