My best friend currently has a hammate. It's the usual shit. Self-hating, pathetic, obese, sloven bitch with dark-blue tubblr hair streaks, and rain check for a Darwin award. One time she told me she drinks carbonated water after meals and snacks so it'll "melt" the calories. Lazy spoiled fupanda also can't wash dishes for shit. She leaves plates and forks with food stuck on them every fucking time, despite numerous warnings, so we have to clean up after this doughnut demon.
Like all fridge-fellaters she's very self-conscious about her weight, and tries to pass it off as confidence while often trying to thin shame my friend who's a super petite young lady. She will keep commenting on what my friend eats, telling her how she's underweight. She didn't even stop when my friend just got back from the hospital after a surgery. "You look soooo thin and sick omg!!!" Yeah, maybe because SHE WAS SICK, you slobbering sweaty cunt.
Anyway. Recently I've had an epiphany. Why shitlord these motherfuckers with logic? We keep telling ourselves that our shitlording is in their best interest. That they might see reason, and change their ways. Fuck that noise. Let's be honest, 99% of the time, that's not gonna happen anyway. So instead of trying to pull fats back from the edge, I've made it my mission to just push them over it instead.
Now whenever I'm visiting my friend, and I see hammate's food unattended on the stove, I slip in some extra oil. If I see a cup of coffee or tea on the counter that I know is hers, I'll stir in extra sugar. Piggy doesn't notice the extra, because I bet piggy already sweetens the shit out of it. When she's nearby, I will also start talking loudly about snacks and how hungry I am. How I'm reeaaaally craving an ice cold cola etc. Without fail she walks to the fridge, presumably giving it a super secret BFF handshake, and opens up a soda to gulp down. Sometimes she goes into binge-mode, asks if we want chips or whatever, and I go "Fuck yea!" Then when she comes back I take a few chips, and let her finish the whole bag and whatever else she got. One time my friend, hammate, and another girl wanted me to get some Starbucks for them on the way, so I got extra beetus syrup on top for tubby's order. Stupid piggy. I am going to fucking feed her until she can't look in the mirror without tearing up. I know she hates herself enough as it is, and I love the thought of her vacuous face staring down at the scale in disbelief over how she's gaining EVEN MORE weight than usual. Oh, she's my fucking prize pig now. I am going to fucking ruin her body more than she could've ever hoped to by herself. Heart attack at 50, or 60? Bitch, I'll train you down to your late 30s, no sweat. I'm gonna remove you from the gene pool before you get the chance to reproduce.
I do this with others as well. Just a few hours ago I was talking with my near-deathfat diabetic uncle. He was contemplating going to the doctor to talk about his issues, because apparently his feet feel like they're on fire (moron). I told him to relax, that all doctors are fucking frauds who just want your money, and that he'll be fine if he just eats less carbs, and to try putting his feet up more. LOL. Yeah you'll be fine alright. If you stay at home and die silently in your sleep instead of burdening the medical system with your past-the-point-of-no-return problems.